Determined to get Jackson back, Anton approaches the werewolf pack that’s his to lead by right, but that he’s largely ignored. They agree to help him, but Anton has to embrace his inner wolf to work with them, and to help Greg come to terms with what he is.
Meanwhile, Jackson is trapped—hurting and beaten—praying for rescue that looks unlikely, even as his time is running out and Greg is convinced he’s going crazy, fearing he’s hearing voices that won’t go away.
As pack Alpha, it all falls to Anton to keep his people safe, but there are forces at work that even the strongest werewolf might not be able to overcome. Can Anton keep his friends safe and save his beloved mate from the voices that call to him? Find out in this sequel to Sean Michael’s Bite.
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Anton closed the door as soon as they were inside the room, locking it. Then he had Greg in his arms, his mate's back hitting the wall. Some instincts were stronger than others, and this one had been there ever since Greg had walked into his home. This was his number one priority, his focus.
Greg snarled, the sound raw and rough and worried. He pressed their lips together, one thigh pushing between Greg's legs. Mate. His. Protect.
He growled happily as Greg spread, hips rocking against him, cock filling. Yes. Yes, Mate. His tongue tangled with Greg's, the kiss deep and hard, Greg’s goatee rubbing against his skin, almost like fur. Grabbing at Greg's clothes, he just barely managed to keep from ripping them from his mate's body.
Greg's fingers grabbed his hair, holding on, little growls and rumbles pushing into his mouth. It was sexy, having a true mate in his arms, someone who was as driven as he was to join, to love, to let the animal out.
He got Greg's shirt off, fingers pressing into the bare skin, nails dragging. Greg’s sounds got louder, needier, Greg's heart slammed against his chest. Anton tore his mouth from Greg's, finding a nice spot on Greg's neck. Worrying it, he began to pull up a mark as his fingers pinched and pulled at Greg's little nipples.
"Fuck me." Greg arched, fingers scraping along his spine. "Fuck me."
"Gonna." He would. He wanted to. He had to.
Anton growled as his fingers refused to work the button on Greg's jeans, but then it came loose and he yanked down the zipper. The smell of Greg hit him hard, making his knees buckle. He pressed up against Greg, groaning, teeth catching on his mate's skin.
That earned him a happy growl, Greg head-butting him, panting. "Don't. Tease."
He laughed, nearly howling, and turned Greg to face the wall as he pulled the jeans down. "I won't."
Greg helped, stripping out of his shoes, tattoos rippling and shifting as he stretched. Anton tore his own pants open, his prick pushing out eagerly. He touched Greg's hole, groaning as his fingers encountered the soft skin.
Dropping to his knees, he spread Greg's cheeks with his hands. Those lean hips pushed into his touch, Greg ready, eager, wanton. The scent here was pure Greg and it made him even harder, his cock aching, dripping with need. He licked at Greg's hole, tongue dragging across the wrinkled skin.
"Anton." He heard that low, single word, his name, as that tight hole jerked under his tongue.
Growling, he pushed his tongue into Greg's body, feeling it squeeze around him. Greg braced himself, pushed back into Anton's face, movements jerky and needy. He fucked his mate's ass with his tongue, wetting the tight hole, getting it ready for his cock.
"Need. Fuck." Greg's claws tore into the wall.
"Mine." He rose up, pushing into Greg without fanfare, just slamming into his mate.
"Yours." Greg howled, caught between him and the wall, hips jerking spasmodically.
He nodded, mouth closing over Greg's shoulder, biting as he took his lover. The muscles around his cock squeezed, rippling and working him. He let go of Greg's shoulder and bit closer to Greg's neck.
"Anton!" Greg pulled away and he bit again, marking, holding tight. His. Hips snapping, he drove the point home.
He felt Greg's orgasm, squeezing around him.
"Yes!" Growling softly, he held, waiting for Greg to finish before slamming home again and again until he came, too.
Greg slumped against the wall, whimpering softly. He leaned against his mate, still buried deep inside Greg's body. Groaning, he licked the sweat from Greg's shoulder, tongue sliding across his marks.
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