Warm, beautiful woman met his hands, her skin satiny, the slightest bit damp from her shower. He closed two fingers around each of her firm ni**les, his c**k fiery hot.
Misty had defied a Shifter woman for him. She had guts behind her sweet smile, and it made Graham’s body hotter than August sunshine.
Graham broke the kiss to lick her throat. Bite it. The mark he’d left on her shoulder showed outside the strap of her tank top. Graham suckled her there again, darkening the mark. So all Shifters would know to back off. Even better, he breathed out onto her skin, scent-marking her.
For her protection, he told himself, so the horny, mate-needing male Shifters of Shiftertown wouldn’t run after her. They’d know Graham protected her, and back off, unless they wanted to fight him for her.
But he knew, even as he did it, that the scent-marking was more than just for her protection. Graham was proclaiming that Misty was his and his alone. He’d been denying this to himself since he’d met her, but here in the unfinished, dusty basement, he knew. He wanted Misty, and no other, as his mate.
“My life is screwed up,” he said softly.
Misty touched his face, turning him to her. “Hmm?”
“What am I going to do?” Graham asked, half to himself. “I can’t stay away from you.”
For answer, she kissed him, sweet and fiery. Graham tenderly squeezed her br**sts, his hands still inside her shirt, the warm goodness of her coming through his touch. Graham wrapped his foot around her bare ankle. One tug, and she’d go down. He’d guide her, holding her, so she’d never fall, but only lie down while he came over her. He’d start making love to her by peeling off her clothes and licking her body, then he’d spread her legs with his hand and slide into her.
Goddess and God, he wanted that.
A light shone full in his face. The sudden glare after the fine darkness with Misty hurt his eyes. Bloody hell.
“I found flashlights,” Dougal announced. The cubs, still wolves, sat on their haunches, looking interested to know why Graham had his hands up Misty’s shirt.
“Good.” Graham casually removed his touch from Misty’s br**sts, as though not worried Dougal and the cubs had caught him groping her. Misty didn’t look worried, but amused Graham was embarrassed. “Give one to Misty. And don’t shine the lights in my face—I don’t need to be night-blinded.”
“Thank you,” Misty said graciously to Dougal as she took the lantern flashlight. The large, square glare lit up the corner of the basement. Dougal smiled back at her. He was going to hero-worship her, it looked like.
Graham glared down at Matt and Kyle. “All right, you little shits, where were you exploring?”
• • •
Graham kept hold of Misty’s hand as they walked deeper into the basement. His grip was strong; she wasn’t getting away.
His touch had been gentleness itself when they’d kissed, as though he’d been holding back his power to be tender with her. Misty loved that about Graham—his ability to soften himself when he needed to, to take care of the cubs, to help Dougal, to caress Misty. Everything he did made Misty fall for him a little more.
The cubs wanted to rush into the darkness, and only Graham’s commands kept them close. Misty shone her light in front of her feet so she wouldn’t trip, but she knew the cubs could see well without it. Shifters had good night vision and only needed the faintest glow.
The basement was enormous. It was more of a dugout, with rock and desert earth still above them rather than joists to support the next floor. As they walked forward, the bright daylight behind them quickly receded.
“Why is it so big?” Misty asked. “The house itself won’t be this long. Or wide.”
“She shouldn’t be down here,” Dougal said, a growl in his voice.
“No kidding,” Graham said. “Remember me yelling at you for bringing her? Misty, you have to promise to keep quiet about what you see here. That we’ve put in basements at all. All right? It’s very important. Could be deadly if you don’t keep it secret.”
One of the wolves—Kyle, she thought—came back and shifted into a boy. Yep, Kyle. “Will you punish Aunt Misty if she tells?” he asked, his eyes round. “You might hurt her. She’s not as strong as Shifters.”
“If I think Misty might tell,” Graham said, “I’ll tie her up, chain her to my bedpost, and . . .” Graham glanced at Misty, his eyes in the flashlight’s glare holding wickedness. “Tickle her,” he finished.
Kyle thought this over, perfectly serious. “That should be okay.” He shifted back into wolf and ran after his brother.
“Tickle?” Misty asked.
“He means sex,” Dougal said. Shifter hearing—she couldn’t best it. “He wants sex with you in a big way. He’s broadcasting it like crazy.”
“Shut it, Dougal,” Graham said with a growl.
Dougal went quiet, but Misty felt no contrition from him. Good for Dougal, having fun laughing at his uncle.
“Matt, Kyle,” Graham called. “Wait.”
The cubs came to an immediate halt. The fact that they obeyed instantly, without question, told Misty how serious the situation was.
Graham turned in a circle, sniffing the air. “You sure this was where you were?”
One of the cubs shifted—Matt this time. “We came in here. We were exploring. Then we got dizzy. Then we were in the car.”