Brothers - Dexter's Pack - George (Book Five)(13)

But, there was his mate looking like a damn tasty treat to his eyes, and as much as he didn’t want to go there with her. He wanted to damn well go there with her.

While the other witches were fevering away in the archives and pouring over books, including the one that Vicky had found, his mate was standing watch on the battlements.

In her hand she gripped a sword like it was her only lifeline to sanity.

She looked formidable.

She looked so damn hot that he wanted to lick her from her head to her toes, and back again.

Hell, he wanted to do more than that – he wanted to be buried balls deep inside of her with those long legs of hers wrapped around his hips as he thrust until they were both sated – then mate her some more, over and over, until the fever within his blood vanished…

George felt that ache within his jaw as his fangs started to elongate, and he shifted his gaze, and his stance to look away from the temptation. It didn’t help the ache within his balls, or the knot within his gut.

“I’ve had all of my shots,” George offered back.

He folded his thick, muscled arms across the expanse of his chest and eyed the sky. He tried to remember why he was standing up on Connor’s damn roof in the first place. It certainly wasn’t with the intention of stargazing with his mate, although, that thought appealed to him as well.

Hell, he’d just about do anything that she wanted so that he could stay within her sphere – be in her presence.

She was everything and more. He knew that – it was written within his DNA.

A mate.

A witch.

His one true love.

George had witnessed his pack finding their mates.

They might have thought that he’d been distracted by his brother, but he’d watched. He’d seen how the big, strong, fierce shifters had lost their hearts and their heads.

There was a part of him that had wanted that.

Maybe, that was why he had ended his brother … maybe he just couldn’t take his sibling stalking him a moment longer.

It didn’t matter why – it mattered that he’d screwed up.

He’d put his pack – the wider community in danger, and for that he was truly sorry.

Dexter had taken him in and given him a home. Family.

He’d done his bit to fight for that family, but he should have gone with his gut and left when he’d killed his brother.

He’d meant to do it.

He’d wanted to do it … but …

It didn’t matter why. It only mattered that he’d stayed.

If the dragon came then he would offer himself up on the condition that the rest be saved.

He didn’t want anyone fighting, or dying for him, because of him. It was his curse and his fight…





CHAPTER ELEVEN





~

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”

“Shut up, Connor. I really don’t need anything more to do with books, even Charles Dickens, when my eyes are blurry and crossing at every opportunity.” Vicky grumbled in annoyance.

She liked to read as much as the next girl, just not speed reading through pages and pages of text that needed to be rationalised in context of the times in which it had been written.

“Touchy…” Connor whispered against her ear, and she reached up and swatted her hand at him, but he was already gone.

“No feely…” she muttered back, scanning the page in front of her, and all because she’d seen the word dragon mentioned in the text – too bad it was dragon’s blood.

And there was the problem – too many spells called for dragon’s blood, and the merry band of witches were all growly and groaning like their mates as they dismissed page after page, and spell after spell, on their search for the answers to their little problem.

Well, it was a bloody big problem by all accounts.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” Connor offered back, distracting her once more. “Just came to check in.”

“Well, bloody well check out again – you know where the door is,” she grumbled.

“Got it. I supposed the copious amounts of coffee and the pile of chocolate wrappers has nothing to do with your mood…?”

Connor twisted his head on his neck the moment that her eyes snapped up to his – he would have made the sign of the cross and kissed his butt goodbye if there had been time, but she zapped him so fast that he didn’t stand a chance…

“Go be gone!” She hissed in annoyance.

“Love you too…” he bit out as her magic subsided enough that his body could just shake it off, and shake it off he did.

“Come back when there’s a bloody big flying lizard above our heads and not before – if we find anything, we’ll come to you – unless we’re spelling up something, and then you’re on your own.” She was scowling up at him, and he got the message loud and clear.

“Always to the point. I like that about…”

“Out.”

“Got it.”

“Then go.”

“Going…” Connor offered her his sing-song voice.

“Don’t come back,” she did the same for him.

“Dominatrix…” he chuckled, but he turned on his heels and made haste, before she decided to zap him again.