LOGINLogan--
I don't know why, but I didn't expect to be having so much… fun. I knew Emory and I would have chemistry, and I even expected we would get along well together because we're mates. That's how mates work. What I didn't expect was for her to be so funny when I can finally get her to relax enough to think through the instinctive arousal– not that I mind that, either.
When I first caught her heady scent after asking her to dinner, I thought I was going to pass out from all the blood leaving my brain. I can't even think of anything to compare it to, it's just… my new favorite smell. There’s a musky note, along with something sweet and floral– maybe orange blossoms? It makes me want to edge her all day every day, just so I can let that fragrance permeate my skin and hair and nose and every molecule of me– but then I realize everyone else like me would be smelling her, too, and I’m already far too possessive of her for that. It’s hard enough to share her smiles with anyone else. She sweetly said goodbye to the security team on the way out, while I tried hard not to make eye contact. Fortunately, they didn’t say anything to me.
I am, admittedly, struggling to keep my wolf leashed. His idea of a great ice breaker is to pull her into one of these filthy alleys, slam her against a wall, and make out with her. That might work with a she wolf, who could smell our connection as well as I can, but a human requires a lighter touch. Or no touching at all, in the very beginning. Another issue that my wolf is having is that she lives in a less-than-safe part of town. Our mate has to be alive and whole in order to be ours forever. I share this particular issue but obviously there isn’t much I can do about it until I find out who owns her building. If I can get them to sell, I can do an overhaul and make sure she has the best security measures available until we get to know each other well enough to move her in with me. I wonder if Ollie and James would have anything relevant to that project? I’ll have to ask him later.
“So tell me, Emory, are you from the city? You have a Southern accent, so my guess is no.” I wonder how far she lives from her family? I just barely manage to step around a questionable puddle when I look over for her answer.
“I’m actually from North Carolina, out in the boonies. I just felt so stifled, surrounded by cow fields and tractors. I love the options of the city, even if I miss the silence of back home sometimes. The traffic here is nonstop, and I'm sure one day I'll find it comforting like I do hearing the trains back home. The arguing of my neighbors is a little harder to get used to.” So she’s not a fan of her building. Cheap soundproofing is a hallmark of shortcuts taken elsewhere, and Emory deserves better and safer. I bet there's not even a lock on the front door.
“My parents and siblings all still live there– scraping together a living until I ‘make it big’ and bring them all to live with me. I’m not sure we’d all make it if we tried to live together again, though. I remember some legendary fights between my brothers and I, growing up.” Good. She’s staying here. We’ll figure out a guest house for the rest of her family or something along those lines.
“Brothers, plural? How many siblings do you have?” Brothers might be a problem. I have… a bit of a reputation… and I wouldn’t want to hurt them when we’re all just trying to make sure Emory is happy and safe. Best not to go in expecting enemies where I could find allies, though.
“Just three, two brothers and a sister. We alternated– boy, girl, boy, girl– and I’m the second of us. My older brother is Bryan, then me, then Hunter, then the youngest and most spoiled is Elliana. Hunter seems to think that just because he got bigger than me, that makes him my big brother too, but I’ll always remember putting dresses on him when we were little. Do you have siblings?”
James--I swallow down my shame as I keep an eye on the sub I’m planning to claim for the night. Ever since I got one single damned sniff of Logan’s assistant before lunch with his new mate, my tastes have trended more toward small blondes than ever before. Previously, I would choose a leggy model type. I never had an opinion on hair color besides a distaste for the obviously unnatural. I’ve always liked my subs with hair long enough to wrap around my hand, but Anna’s short hair matches her no-nonsense personality so perfectly that I can’t imagine her any other way.Since I’ve seen her, I’ve been… intrigued by the possibilities of a sub much smaller than I am. Physical domination has always been a given– any shifter is going to be orders of magnitude stronger than a human woman, no matter what– but to have
Logan--Well, little rose, you’ll always be short compared to me. And I would break anyone described as ‘petite’ in the human world. I like your curves, baby. I like how they fit in my hands, I like how they move when you walk, and I like most of all how they jiggle when I’m balls deep– I get the impression of Emory’s squeak on the other end of our connection, and I chuckle as she immediately starts trying to clear her mind of thoughts to end the conversation. If the shifters thought I was crazy before, they’re convinced of it now. I’ll have to tell them it was for Hector’s benefit or I’ll end up explaining telepathy to them. I’m not sure we want to confirm that particular rumor to anyone. The more people know, the less advantage we can take of it.
Logan--Once we got the camera from the photographer, he became very cooperative. We deleted all of the pictures from his camera and his phone, though he thankfully didn’t get anything too destructive. I’ve coached my whole pack on how to melt into the shadows before they shift, to avoid eyes at all costs. I’ve asked Ollie to have Jeffries check up on the kid, and James is riding Jeffries’ ass as well. Jeffries is technically part of James’ security team, but Ollie keeps him on retainer because he’s a nosy fucker. Ollie’s got this inquisitive nature that has him riding the cutting edge of his sphere, but it spills over into every other area of his life, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew exactly what Emory and I usually do on our way home from work in the evenings. Soon enough, we’ll know all about th
Emory--“This is a public park. By being here, you consent to any pictures taken of you.” The camera man replies, though he’s fidgety about it. It's hard to tell if the trembling in his fingers is more from fear or from caffiene overdose. He looks like he's being held up by adrenalin alone at this point. “I could sue you for assaulting me and holding me against my will, actually.” I can’t resist rolling my eyes at him. What a weasel. He hasn't seen assault yet, according to Logan's darker thoughts. “Ah, but you forget I’m a celebrity now. The rules are different for me, I’m afraid. Your friends have made your own life harder by making me the new sensation.” Logan replies in a pleasant tone. I tamp down the urge to fidget next to him. I'm not sure if that's actually true or if rich
Emory--I sit up with an undignified snort, alerted by Logan’s sudden panic blaring through my head. We’re going to have to find a way to filter our communication, fast. Once I understand what the problem is, though, my panic matches his. There was someone in the woods around us, someone who took at least one picture. I look down at myself– disheveled in a way that anyone would know what I was just doing, but decently covered, at least. I don’t think they would have seen anything rated R unless they had really precise timing, but it depends on how long they’ve been here. There’s a reason we didn’t hire a photographer for this ceremony, after all. As much as I’d love to have an album to show our kids and grandkids one day, it’s too much of a risk of exposure to have a camera anywhere near
Logan--It’s no wonder Emory always passes out after we have sex. I’ve never experienced a full-body orgasm like that before– I feel like I just ran a marathon and then got high on the best drug on the market. I can still feel muscles in my legs twitching, and my knees wouldn’t be up to the task of standing right now even if my life was on the line. I feel a weird… stretching feeling from my wolf, like he’s pulling at the leash inside me. Usually, that means I need to fight the urge to shift, but that’s not what I’m feeling right now. It’s not until I hear Emory’s litany of quiet panic that I realize what happened. My wolf is on a walkabout in her head rather than mine. It takes a few slow seconds to look over at Emory so I can work out the best way to calm her down. He’s not a bad wolf, and she knows him well, already. When I finally work up the neck strength to turn my head, I realize that Emory’s mouth isn’t moving. Her face is blank– not quite serene, but a pretty good poker fac







