Safe and Sound (Omega Wolves 2) Read online

  “Like mint,” Ivoire said with a shaky, bubbling laugh. He bit lightly at Zachariah’s chin. “You, too. But you can’t reach. I didn’t think -- it’s been a while, I -- Here. Like this.”

  Ivoire started to slide off Zachariah’s lap. Zachariah knew what he meant to do, that he planned to get on his hands and knees, that he would kneel and present himself. And that would have worked better, maybe, but --

  “Don’t,” Zachariah gritted out. His face burned at Ivoire’s questioning look, but he’d gone too far, and he wanted. Slowly, bashfully, he brought his palm up the roundness of Ivoire’s belly. He breathed in sharply through his nose at the feel of it. He hadn’t even let himself think about this since losing Jace, about how it had driven him mad with lust back then, but the ripeness of this Omega filled his mind with white-hot fire.

  He groaned with appreciation he couldn’t hold back and prayed Ivoire would understand.

  Ivoire went briefly still, then seemed to melt on Zachariah’s lap. “Oh,” he breathed, coming back in. “Oh, yes. Please, Zachariah.” He pushed at Zachariah’s shoulders until Zachariah got the idea and eased them both down, Zachariah on his back and Ivoire straddling his groin. His cock nestled into the slickness of Ivoire’s cleft, so hard he thought he might burst.

  “Not before you’re inside me,” Ivoire said, soft and low. He reached between his legs to help guide Zachariah, and took both his hands for leverage as he slowly, slowly lowered himself on Zachariah’s cock.

  They both cried out. Zachariah couldn’t help it, watching the Omega take him deep. Lovely Ivoire arched his neck and sank his teeth into his lip, fucking himself on Zachariah’s cock, taking him in so easily, fitting their bodies together.

  Zachariah knew he should have let Ivoire keep both hands, but he couldn’t deny this hunger. He let go of the right and rubbed Ivoire’s belly, amazed at the tautness of the skin, the fullness of him.

  If that were his pup in there, making Ivoire bloom… “Oh, God,” he groaned, taking Ivoire by the hips. He thrust up, hard and fast, almost too hard. Ivoire cried out, but came back to meet him, body demanding all he could give. “God, God in heaven, God…”

  “More.” Ivoire brought Zachariah’s hand back to his belly and kept it there as he rose and fell. Faster, slower, tighter, squeezing him, his cock rubbing against Zachariah’s stomach with every stroke. His breath grew short and jagged.

  Almost there, almost there. Zachariah brought them both up, just high enough to press his mouth to Ivoire’s belly.

  Ivoire cried out as he came, his mouth in a tight O and his eyes shut, a flood of warmth spreading between them. Zachariah couldn’t hold out against that, against the muscle contractions that kneaded his cock and brought him over the edge with a shout so loud and hoarse his throat burned.

  Zachariah fell back -- nothing in the world could have stopped it -- it was as if his ligaments had come loose -- and caught Ivoire as Ivoire came tumbling after, all damp curls and belly and Omega scent. He’d slipped free without noticing, only realizing it when Ivoire curled one leg to bring his knee gently to rest at his groin.

  For a moment all Zachariah could do was try to breathe, to remember how to speak.

  Ivoire’s kiss startled him, soft at the edge of his jaw. “Thank you.”

  Surely he hadn’t heard that right. “What?”

  “I said thank you.” Again, a kiss, then Ivoire rested his head on Zachariah’s chest, right over his pounding heart. “I’m glad this happened before I stopped believing in nice men.”

  Zachariah wasn’t a nice man, and he knew it. Sanity had started to slide back in through the cracks, and with it came pure dismay. A nice man wouldn’t have done that. A nice man wouldn’t be capable.

  “I can hear you thinking, you know.” Ivoire butted his chin against Zachariah’s collarbone. Around a yawn, he said, “And you’re wrong. Since I’m the only one here, and I think you’re nice, you are.”

  Zachariah threw his arm over his eyes in despair -- but the other had found its way across Ivoire’s back, as if to shelter him. He was so warm, and already his breathing had started to even out in sleep.

  He’d move in a minute, he thought, keeping his eyes shut. Make a bed for Ivoire out of the boxes. He knew where things were, even if he’d never unpacked them. Yes, that was the right plan. Make him a bed, a separate bed, and sleep the madness off.

  And in the morning, he’d make sure Ivoire knew this couldn’t happen again.

  First he needed to pull up his pants. He’d rest a moment first. Just a moment…

  Chapter Three

  Zachariah

  A few minutes’ work with a pair of scissors and an old T-shirt, and Zachariah had something that wouldn’t win any beauty contests but would serve well enough as a mask that’d cover his mouth and nose, and tie behind his head. Add a pair of sturdy work gloves from the same box the T-shirt had been in, and he was all set to tackle the mint patch.

  Funny how he’d never thought to do that before, only wrinkling his nose every time he had to work near the overgrown vegetation and moving on as quick as he could. But that morning, while half listening to Ivoire pattering around in his kitchen, he’d glimpsed the box in his peripheral vision and the idea just… came together.

  Not that it had anything to do with Ivoire. He’d slept well, that was all, and rest rejuvenated the mind.

  Zachariah glanced back at the cabin. He couldn’t see Ivoire, who was still wearing his old robe -- claimed it was too comfortable to lay aside -- but could hear the Omega through its open window. Singing some radio hit, or trying to. For all his other virtues Ivoire couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket with both hands. A particularly discordant note made Zachariah wince, then lift the corner of his mouth.

  Lord, what a handful.

  No word had come from the packmaster yet. On the other hand, none of his deputies had come around overnight, so might be he ought to count his blessings there.

  Ivoire would be gone soon enough.

  The knowledge griped at Zachariah’s guts, but he shook his head stubbornly and double-tied the knot on his mask. What had happened between him and the Omega the night before had been something else, for sure, and he couldn’t deny it’d done them both some good. Ivoire had slept at least as soundly as Zachariah, and still been snoozing when Zachariah woke at dawn. Nor could he claim his house didn’t feel more welcoming with an Omega in it.

  But Ivoire wasn’t his Omega. The packmaster would have other plans, and what did he want the hassle for anyhow?

  He didn’t. Nope. No more than he wanted this mint. Zachariah crouched, all the better to deal with the roots, and gave them a good yank. They came free easily enough, though a few broke off before they cleared the ground.

  As he scowled at the ragged roots, Zachariah recalled suddenly and vividly an older wolf’s bemoaning the mint that’d infested her backyard.

  “Toss one sprig of mint over your shoulder and let it touch the earth, and you’re done for,” she’d said. “In the end I just decided to move before it could take over my whole garden!”

  Inside Zachariah’s house, Ivoire started doing something that clanked and rattled. Zachariah lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the window. Try though he might, he couldn’t make out any details. The angle was wrong. Sounded like pots and pans coming out of boxes.

  Well… there couldn’t be too much harm in that, could there? He’d started the unpacking himself that morning. Ivoire was saving him some time and effort. Decent payback for sanctuary.

  And if you believe that, my son, I’ve got a bridge to sell you. Zachariah scoffed at himself and bent back to his task with a will.

  He’d gotten halfway through the first patch, tossing everything aside on a pile he’d either compost or burn later, when a distant wolf song made him prick up his ears. Listening intently, he identified three separate wolves moving in a triangle formation. They sounded older than the pups who’d been on the rampage yesterday -- old enough to be worth list
ening to.

  Seeking, one of them belled. Seeking Packmaster’s kin. Where? Where?

  Zachariah rubbed thoughtfully at his chest. He didn’t think Ivoire had heard. The Omega hadn’t stopped his cheerfully tuneless mangling of the entire Top 40.

  Packmaster sends word, another, nearer wolf howled. Seeking. Where?

  Zachariah hesitated. On the one hand, he wasn’t inclined to trust any of the wolves in his pack just then, and yet if they weren’t trying to pull a fast one, it was his duty to respect their packmaster, and it’d be his hide if he obstructed the man’s justice.

  He still didn’t care for the idea of handing Ivoire over.

  Well, he wouldn’t. Not until he knew for sure Ivoire would be well taken care of. Answering the call didn’t equate tossing Ivoire off his land.

  It’d been a while since Zachariah had tried a partial shift, and he was sure he looked like a caricature of himself, but with a wolf head and neck on a man’s body he could communicate and fight dirty if need be. He tilted his head back and howled his reply. Answering seekers. Who asks? Why?

  A pause, and then the deepest of the wolf howls replied. Zachariah recognized it as the packmaster’s second in command, a former Ranger who no one doubted could be relied upon. There? Where?

  Zachariah, he replied reluctantly. Sanctuary. Safe.

  The second pause went on long enough to make Zachariah knot his fists in readiness. Good, the deep-voiced wolf answered at last. Keep there. Packmaster returns in one-day, two-days, soon as possible. Keep safe until.

  Zachariah curled his lip. Safe from deputies, too?

  The wolf’s answer was as dry as a howl could be. Deputies scruffed. Packmaster will punish, has sworn it.

  Huh! Well. Good enough, Zachariah supposed. Would have been better to muzzle them in the first place, but perhaps Ivoire would get a chance to witness against the lot and teach them a lesson. Zachariah grinned again, surprising himself. Ivoire didn’t have a vicious bone in his body. He’d need someone to take his part there.

  Zachariah supposed he wouldn’t mind volunteering, if called upon.

  Agree, he called back at last. Will keep here. Will keep safe.

  Had Ivoire understood any of that? Zachariah shifted back to fully human shape and undid his mask, craning his neck while he did to get a proper look through the cabin window. Now he saw what Ivoire had been up to. Not pots and pans, but -- a ladder? Hell. Yes, a ladder. Specifically that rickety-ass old ladder he’d meant to burn. It wouldn’t support a mouse’s weight, much less that of a pregnant Omega, but even as he watched Zachariah caught a glimpse of Ivoire’s sleek calves, climbing the rungs.

  Oh, it’d be a fine thing if the Omega broke his neck just when Zachariah had promised to keep him safe, wouldn’t it?

  If Ivoire hurt himself…

  Cold chills rocketed through Zachariah’s spine and set fire to his feet. He’d started running faster than his mind could process it, and jerked back in surprise when his body barreled through the cabin door.

  “Ivoire, stop!”

  * * *

  Ivoire

  Ivoire caught the ladder rungs to keep himself from falling. Once he was sure he wouldn’t slip, he held on to the top rung and turned as best as he could from what had once been his waist. “Zachariah, what on earth?”

  He’d been annoyed -- any kind of fall was dangerous for a pregnant Omega -- but at his first sight of Zachariah’s face, Ivoire’s irritation dissolved. White to the lips and eyebrows, his hands were shaking on the doorknob.

  Terrified. For him?

  Ivoire eyeballed the ladder carefully. “This isn’t meant to be used, is it?”

  “I kept meaning to chop it up for kindling,” Zachariah said, voice hoarse. He swallowed hard and stood up straight, shoving his trembling hand in his jacket pocket to hide it. “Get down from there. Now.”

  Ah yes. Ivoire recognized this kind of mood. In some ways, Alphas were all the same. Give them a good scare, and they’d rage the walls down to conceal how frightened they’d been. God forbid anyone think they were capable of worry.

  But no, that wasn’t fair. Ivoire sighed and rubbed at his belly to try and soothe his pup, who hadn’t liked being shouted at. Zachariah was likely just out of practice. Besides, whether it stemmed from anger or alarm, Ivoire rather thought he liked the way strong emotion livened Zachariah right up. It suited him far better than the gruff, stoic mask he’d worn the day before.

  And besides, this situation gave him an opportunity waiting to be taken. “If it’s that dangerous,” Ivoire said mildly, waiting, “Then come and help me down.”

  Zachariah narrowed his eyes, but if he knew what Ivoire was up to he didn’t choose to call him on it. He stalked to the ladder and steadied it with one strong arm, his barrel chest pressed against Ivoire’s back. “Turn this way. Put your arms around my neck. I’ll lift you to the ground.”

  Ivoire bit back protests that he was pregnant, not helpless, and gave the man his way. Why not? He liked how his arms fit around Zachariah, and how even as heavy as he’d gotten, Zachariah could lift him like a handful of feathers.

  Even better, Ivoire liked the way Zachariah paused ever so briefly to press his nose against Ivoire’s neck and breathe in his scent. The touch gave him a good shiver that went straight to his toes and made them curl.

  You are dear, aren’t you? Ivoire thought fondly. Hide it though you might.

  He would have enjoyed a chance to ruffle Zachariah’s hair in response, but once Zachariah had plunked him more or less gracefully on the cabin floor, the Alpha let go and stepped back.

  “Just so I’m clear, was it the ladder or was it any kind of messing with your stuff that got you hot under the collar?” Ivoire asked, teasing him a little. He wanted to keep that spark of Zachariah’s burning. “Either way, you have cobwebs in the corners up there.”

  Zachariah shot him a dour look but plucked a cleaning cloth off the ladder rung where Ivoire had left it, stretched his arm to its fullest extension, and did away with the offending spider webs in three brisk swipes. “Happy now?”

  “Ecstatic,” Ivoire assured him. “No, really. I don’t mind that the spiders got a free show last night, but I’d rather you didn’t have them for roommates in the long run.”

  Zachariah almost chuckled at that. “Me neither.” He caught himself and went stone-faced. “Word came through from your cousin the packmaster.”

  Ivoire’s breath caught in his throat. He scolded himself -- his cousin’s protection was what he’d come there for in the first place, for heaven’s sake -- but he couldn’t alter his body’s reaction. “And?”

  “And you stay here for now.” Zachariah crossed his arms. “Under my protection, until your cousin’s back in town.”

  For the life of him, Ivoire couldn’t tell whether the idea pleased or displeased the Alpha. “All right,” he said slowly, searching Zachariah’s face. On impulse, he took Zachariah’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Zachariah looked down at Ivoire’s fingers, so small and delicate compared to his, and -- blushed. Red blossomed in his cheeks.

  Ivoire’s heart melted. He patted Zachariah’s arm, then took pity on him and let go. “Okay then. If I’m going to be your roommate for a day or two instead of the spiders, then I want to earn my keep. What can I do that’s more useful than dangerous?”

  Just as he’d imagined likely, Zachariah argued that. “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I know. That’s why I said I wanted to.” Ivoire lifted his chin. “I can unpack boxes. I can clean, if you have a broom or a mop.”

  “Uh-uh.” Zachariah dug in his heels. He gestured awkwardly at Ivoire’s middle. “Not… like that.” He saved himself by grinning, a quick flash of humor, and adding, “How would you even see where you were sweeping?”

  Ivoire roll his eyes, but an answering smile tugged at his lips. “Carefully, and with patience. I mean it, Zachariah. I’m not going to stand here twiddling my thumbs all day. That’s not me.”
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  Zachariah blew out a breath. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely yes.” There was a fine line between standing one’s ground and crossing the line, and Ivoire thought he’d just about reached it on this point. Besides, now that the pup was awake it’d started beating on his insides like a tympani band, and Ivoire could only divide his attention for so long. He laid his hand on Zachariah’s arm without thinking. “I won’t push myself too far. I know my limits. But I need to be busy. You understand that, don’t you?”

  He thought Zachariah would keep right on going, but the Alpha surprised him with a thoughtful gaze and a nod. “Yeah. I do.”

  Ivoire raised one shoulder and waited. Well then?

  “Unpacking,” Zachariah decided. “As long as you don’t try and lift heavy things. Or -- no, wait. Do you know how to draw?”

  The non sequitur startled Ivoire. “What?”

  “Draw,” Zachariah repeated. “I can’t do straight lines, but I was thinking it’s about time I got my plans for this place properly worked out. It’d help if I had them down on paper, too.”

  Was he inventing busy work just to keep Ivoire occupied? Ivoire couldn’t quite tell. He wouldn’t put it past Zachariah, and yet -- well, it was sweet, wasn’t it? And he wasn’t running in the opposite direction, nor slamming up another set of defensive walls.

  Ivoire supposed he could compromise. “I don’t know about straight lines, but I guess I’ll find out. Do you have a paper and pencil somewhere in here?”

  Zachariah’s grin took his breath away. “Guess I’ll find out.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later found them perched on the edge of Zachariah’s front porch, their legs dangling over the side. Ivoire nibbled at the barrel of the pencil Zachariah had found for him and sharpened with a jackknife. “So you’ll have a shed for the goats here on the right? Or did you mean left?”

  Zachariah leaned into Ivoire’s space to study the line drawing taking shape. “Which side is the well on? Away from that.”