They said nothing—or at least not words—but there was no need for anything other than the feel of their torsos rubbing up against each other and the points where they touched. The amber in Gibson’s eyes remained, flecks of gold beaten into the folds of silver already there, but the growing heat between them bordered on savage, especially when Gibson began to move.
Zach rose to meet him, demanding as much as Gibson was willing to give. The discovery of their rhythm was a slow one, a syncopated beat twisting into the rise and fall of their joined bodies. Wrapped around Gibson, Zach reveled in the power he had at his fingertips. Scratching his nails across Gibson’s shoulders drew out an aroused hiss, then a frenetic pounding of Gibson’s cock into his depths. His teeth sunk into Gibson’s throat and the shock of pleasure nearly unseated Zach from his purchase around Gibson’s hips, and they shared a small burst of laughter before their passions took over again.
The horizon of his release came too soon, rising up to drench him in a light Zach wanted to embrace but mourned. The shift between pleasure and orgasm struck as hard as lightning from a winter storm. His heartbeat became the thunder, an unending, booming percussion following the flashing sensations he was beginning to drown in. Then Gibson moved, in some inexplicable tilt of his body, a curve of some kind driving him so deep, stroking at Zach’s core and lighting up the edge of his climax.
He had a vague sensation of Gibson’s fingers around his dick, a tight caress followed by the rub of callused fingers, but none of that seemed to matter. Zach raced the lightning, riding it to its zenith. Then he gasped, welcoming the spill of Gibson’s release inside of him. If his climax was the storm, Gibson’s was the break in the clouds afterward. There was too much to see, too much to feel, exposed by an incandescence as golden as the wolf in Gibson’s eyes.
“I love you,” Gibson whispered, moving his hips slowly, his length softening, but they both were reluctant to break apart. Not just yet. Not when they could still taste and feel each other in their own blood. “I cannot live without you.”
“Well, that works out, then,” he murmured back, tightening his hold on Gibson, refusing to let go. “Because I can’t live without you either, and I love you so much, I want to spend my life making you smile.”
Epilogue
SPRING BROUGHT with it a burst of flowers to the hills and warming of the pond they hiked around all winter. They’d woken up one morning to find the snow melt nearly complete and the ground thick with rivulets and mud puddles. Mud puddles a certain oversized wolf seemed to take great delight in rolling in, then shaking off what he picked up all over Zach.
“Oh no.” He spotted Gibson eyeing a nearly pool-sized puddle a few yards ahead, and he bumped the wolf before he could run toward it, throwing Gibson off his stride. “You are not going to get me again. I am already covered, and I feel like a termite mound. You shake over me one more time and I don’t care how big you are, I’ll throw you into the goddamned lake.”
There was nothing more mocking than a wolf’s laugh.
They’d locked up the cabin, expecting to be gone the entire afternoon. Zach left the running of the inn to Ruth and Martha, fully admitting he knew little to nothing about customer service, and when it was all said and done, knew he would do a horrible job. They spent a few hours a week going over what needed to be done or deciding who to hire when the refurbished bed-and-breakfast began to get busy. He liked the quiet energy of the place, a welcoming grandmother of a building, but he was always grateful to go home to the cabin.
To Gibson.
The same Gibson who was still chortling behind a wide wolf smile, bounding on long legs toward the spot they’d come to think of as their secret hiding place.
The pond was lovely, but Zach spied the shards of ice floating just beneath the surface, an image at odds with the blanket of tiny purple flowers climbing the hill above. Several trees were bright green, sparsely leafed but working toward filling their branches, and the lush emerald needles of sturdy evergreens, cradling dots of emerging pinecones. The air was still crisp, as if threatening to return winter to the area, but Gibson had reassured him earlier, the cold would soon be on its way out.
Of course Gibson also assured him that the pond was swimmable, but unless Zach had every intention of pretending to be a penguin, there was no way in hell he was going to climb into that water.
He’d grown used to seeing Gibson shift, but the wonder of it still remained. The ripple of skin parting black fur, then the ebb of amber from his eyes fascinated him, but the brief flash of agony across his face when the change hit his bones was something Zach heartily wished he could ease away. It was part and parcel of being a shifter, the price a man paid to carry a wolf in his blood, and even though the process was painful, there were times when Gibson needed to run on all fours.
That morning was one of those times. The hike was a long one but fairly easy, something they’d done more than a few times as the weather grew warmer. The vista from the large flat boulder wedged into the ground next to the pond was breathtaking, a spectacular view of the lake and the mountains beyond. They’d had picnics on the rock, mostly during the day, but a few of the moon-drenched evenings when the sky was clear, they’d watch the sunset, then make love under the stars.
Zach had grown very fond of the rock.
Gibson stood shivering on the pond’s shore, his hand stretched out toward Zach. “Can you hand me my clothes? I’m pretty sure I’m not going to have any balls left if I stand out in the cold much longer.”
“Well, we certainly don’t want that.” Zach dug through the backpack he’d carted up the trail, then pulled out the bundle of clothes he’d carried up for Gibson. “You know, they make saddlebags for service dogs. I bet you can find something about your size so you can carry your own damn clothes.”
“And here I thought you loved me.” Gibson’s wicked grin flashed, taking Zach’s words as the teasing he’d meant them to be. “’Sides, I don’t think those things would let me run like I need to or I’d be all over it. Nothing worse than going wolf, then finding out you’re really craving a hamburger but you don’t have your wallet because you’re buck-ass naked underneath your fur coat.”
It was a shame Gibson had to hide his body under a pair of jeans and a Henley, but Zach knew from experience the rock could be very rough on a piece of bare skin. A few rounds of rash along the back of his thighs and across his own ass made him more than willing to tuck a thin, durable blanket into his backpack for the long hike.