Page 23 of Ruined Wolf
Lucas could hear everything, and his breathing picked up. I heard the clink of his piercings as he jerked himself off, and it only drove me on.
“I want his fingers in your ass, Nova. Tell him. I want to be able to come home and claim that gorgeous little ass. I want to fuck you hard in it, and he needs to get you ready for me.”
I gasped. “I can’t tell him that!”
“Tell him, or I’ll spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week,” he growled.
“Maverick,” I said, my voice breaking over the constant slamming of his hips against me. “Maverick, finger me... finger my ass... He wants me ready for him... to fuck... when he gets back.”
My face was on fire with humiliation, but there was a part of me deep down inside that felt a thrill at giving orders to this man, this alpha. He followed every command, and this one was no different. I felt the press against my back entrance and then the dark, dirty desire that flared up as he pushed first one and then a second finger inside me.
“Can you feel it, Nova?” came Lucas’s voice.
“Yes... moon, yes!” I cried out.
“I’m going to fuck you there, little omega. I want every one of your holes to belong to me. I’m going to fuck that little ass while he rams into your pussy. You’re going to be so damn full...”
“Lucas,” I cried out. I could no longer hold my weight on one arm, and I fell forward again, my ass in the air as Maverick rode me hard. The phone dropped next to my face, but Lucas was done ordering us around, and I heard his groan over my own. “Oh fuck, my fucking dirty little omega, I am going to fill you with my cum until you can’t hold any more... Fuck!”
The sound of his climax only urged me closer to mine, and I knew Maverick was close too. I reached back between us to cup his balls, scraping my nails over the sensitive skin, and he cried out, slamming into me so hard I knew I’d be covered in bruises tomorrow. I didn’t care, though, because his climax hurled me into my own release, and I screamed his and Lucas’s names into the mattress.
“Well done, my sweet omega,” Lucas murmured, and then the line went dead. Maverick reached down and pulled me up against him, my back against his chest. His knot was swelling inside me, so he guided me down onto the mattress on my side, curling up behind my back. I had never felt so content and so alive than I did in this moment, lying in Maverick’s arms. His lips pressed gently against my shoulder.
“Are you okay? That was rather... intense.”
I gave a quiet laugh. “Yes, it was, but I’m good, so good. Are you?”
“I’m... incredible.”
“Yes, you are.” I grinned, even though he couldn’t see me.
I felt his chest huff as he laughed, then it faded, and he went quiet. As his breathing settled, becoming more regular, I concentrated on the sound of it, trying not to let my thoughts go wild as I lay there. I just wanted to think about him, about us, while our bodies were joined together like nothing could break us apart. The world around us seemed to fade away until the only thing that existed was us.
CHAPTER NINE
NOVA
I hadn’t meant to doze off, but I’d fallen asleep almost immediately, wrapped up in Maverick’s warm arms and tired from our love making. I jerked awake a couple of hours later. The house was silent with that chill that falls when the house is dormant throughout the night. I listened to Maverick’s breathing to reassure myself that he hadn’t woken when I did, but he was sleeping peacefully. Carefully, I wriggled my way out of his arms. It only took a few moments to pull one of Maverick’s huge T-shirts over my head and find the house keys tucked inside his jeans pocket. I closed my hand around them so they didn’t make any noise and slipped out of the door. I padded silently down the hallway. Possessing wolfish instincts meant stealth came second nature to me, but the two other wolves in the house had bloody good hearing, so I was extra careful.
I stopped outside of the last bedroom door. It took three tries to find the right key, and as I opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, my heart thudded hard in my chest. Crossing to the nightstand, I turned on the lamp and looked around. The room had been cleaned up and tidied, but dust had settled on the furniture and walls, with cobwebs weaving across the corners. It wasn’t furnished much differently to Maverick’s, with dark wooden furniture and soft grey accents. There was a musty smell, and I guessed no one had been in to air the room out in a long time. They’d left it here for him, just as it was, for when he came home, and it was home. I could feel Jaxon here, his presence lingering in the room like a ghost watching me sadly from the corner.
I felt my eyes fill with tears and brushed them away quickly. My heart ached with grief as I looked around at this portion of his life I had never been a part of—one he’d never even spoken of. Dozens of photo frames covered the dresser and the desk, and I leaned in to study them. I smiled at the boys in the pictures. All of them were so young, and the photos were clearly taken during happier times. Many were with a strong-looking, dark-haired man who looked like Lucas without the tats and the piercings, and a woman with soft brown hair and grey eyes. There were boating and fishing trips, camping under the trees, playing on the beach, first days of school, and birthdays. It was all here.
This time I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. I ran my hand over my stomach as guilt washed over me. It didn’t matter if I found that gold or not, I would never be able to give my child any of this. When the guys found out how I’d lied to them, they wouldn’t welcome me into the pack with open arms, nor would they welcome the child of the brother who abandoned them. It would just be the baby and me wherever we went. Our child would never get to experience the joys of growing up in a real family. I had dreamed of being surrounded by that family, by a pack, and a community, and being loved, claimed, and wanted. I had never had that growing up, but I wanted my child to have it. Due to my choices, however, and Jaxon’s, they would never have it. We would always be alone.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ground myself. I couldn’t do this. If I slipped into the well of self-pity, I wouldn’t be able to claw myself out. My eyes connected with those of a teenage Jaxon as he laughed at the camera, holding up a fish he must have caught. No more thinking of what-ifs or of dreams. They were for children or people who didn’t have to worry about actual survival, and that was my first and only concern—the survival of myself and my child. To do that, I needed to find out what Jaxon had on Ethan. I needed leverage, and I had a feeling it was here somewhere.
I began to search the place, opening drawers and cupboards and rifling through the contents as quickly as possible. I was trying not to disturb things too much, but thankfully, Jaxon hadn’t been super organised when he was younger either, so it wasn’t as though clothes were folded. Most things looked as though they’d just been chucked in the drawers, and it meant they didn’t look any different after I had searched them. There was nothing there, though I did find a small teddy bear tucked away in the bottom drawer. It looked well loved, but it was still soft and had both eyes. Tears threatened to overwhelm me again, and I quickly placed it back where I’d found it before turning to the desk.
It was stuffed with papers and folders and books. Jaxon really had been into history in a big way, especially Desolation Island, and I flipped through pages and pages of notes, finding nothing. A heavy book sat on top of a load of papers, and I shifted it to get underneath. Just as I was about to set it down, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the side. I set it back on the papers and opened it to the marked page.
It was an article about a Spanish explorer called Vasco Balboa. I recognised the name from Jaxon’s journal, and I wouldn’t have read further, but Jaxon had underlined a few lines in the text and written notes on the side. I skimmed over the passages. Balboa had been a Spanish conquistador in the sixteenth century and had been the first European to discover the Pacific Ocean. He travelled around Central America, conquering and raiding the indigenous peoples, collecting treasure of gold and pearls. A fifth was sent back to the King of Spain, as was the rule, and he kept the rest. A note in the margin in Jaxon’s handwriting read, "Colossal wealth, some used to commission more ships. What happened to the rest of the money?”
My suspicions rose, and I kept reading. I had been right. Jaxon seemed to think that the treasure collected by Balboa was the treasure stashed here on Desolation. I frowned. That couldn’t be right. We were thousands of miles from Central America, and the article stated that Balboa had only reached Mexico in his travels. I skipped forward to where Balboa and four of his friends were beheaded after being accused of trying to usurp the governor and create a separate government in the South Sea.
Another note from Jaxon said, “Governor Pedrarias is B’s FIL. He stood to claim the treasure on Balboa’s death, huge amount of wealth, and long standing enemies. B must have hidden the treasure to thwart P, but who else knew? The four friends were with him on the voyage to Atrato.”
My head swam as I checked the article again. In 1515, Balboa went on a voyage to the Atrato River in Colombia, because they thought there was a vast temple there filled with riches, but he never got there, chased away by the natives. I tapped on the desk. What if he had reached the temple and found a fortune? He’d have been expected to give a fifth away, and the resulting riches for himself would have increased his power and wealth far above his father-in-law’s. What if he hid the treasure in order to preserve his life? It would make sense to go north, because as far as the governor knew, the farthest north he’d ever been was Mexico.