He pumped in and out of her, pressing against her clit with every movement. Their bodies slapped together, the sounds of wet, hot sex mixing with his groans and the sound of her voice calling out his name.
Betsy threw her head back onto his shoulder and came, covering him with her juices. He held on for dear life as she milked him with her muscles until it was too much, until he had to release deep inside of her or he’d never breathe again.
Cyrus had never come so long or so hard—over and over again. He saw stars before his eyes, and his ears rang.
It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to collapse on top of her when he bit down on her shoulder. Would he ever stop doing that? He didn’t know, and for the first time, he didn’t care. Betsy liked it. Biting her every time worked for them, and he intended to stick with it.
“Love you.” She panted.
“Me too, princess, me too.” More than she would ever know.
Chapter Sixteen
Betsy groaned and grabbed her head. Light pushed its way through her sore lids and forced her to open them. The cold ground dug into the small of her back where her shirt had ridden up. She shivered and felt her head again while she tried to sit up. Her hand was covered in dried blood and so, from the residue on her fingers, was her head.
What the hell had happened? She stared left and then right, realizing for the first time that she had no idea where she was. Not one clue. Or why she was alone.
Her heart rate kicked up into a rapid gallop, which made her throbbing head only hurt worse. Okay. Okay. She had to get control of herself and figure out where she was and how she’d gotten there.
A big blank nothingness filled her brain. Had she blacked out somewhere? Had something happened? Why didn’t she know where she was or why she’d been bleeding?
Betsy sniffed the air. There were some things she did know. Her name. Cyrus’ name, he was her mate, and they were both, strangely enough, werewolves. She’d come to Montana to figure out what happened to her parents, what the truth was once and for all…
She caught her breath. Montana. That’s where she was, back in her home state. They’d gotten on an airplane and come here. Then what?
Betsy staggered a bit as she tried to get her feet to work. She felt drained, as though her body didn’t want to function. She rubbed her head again. Something obviously had occurred. And if she really dwelled on her current situation, it terrified her even more.
There was no way she should be alone on a country road somewhere in Montana. There was no way Cyrus would have allowed that to happen if he could have done anything to prevent it. She’d been alone, unconscious, on the side of the road with a gash in her head. Something terrible had happened. Tears poured out of her eyes, and she sniffed before pushing them away. She wasn’t going to be able to help anyone if she didn’t get herself under control and fast.
If he lived, Cyrus would do everything in his power to get to her, and if he didn’t, then the world was too horrible to contemplate and she couldn’t let her mind go there.
The first problem was that the last thing she could remember was going to bed in their rented house. Had something happened there? Had John attacked Cyrus and tried to take over the pack? She dismissed that thought and tried to ignore the constant throb of her head.
If John had attacked them in their bed, she wouldn’t be lost on the side of the road. That didn’t make sense. She growled and stuck her shaking hands in her pockets. Pockets! She had them. In fact, she was completely dressed. Black slacks, white turtleneck, and winter jacket. Gloves in her pockets She had not gone to bed dressed like this, so she must have gotten up and dressed at some point. But when? How? She was on the road. When had they left the hotel?
The plan had been to hit the road after breakfast and drive the hour to Destiny, Montana, the closest town to where she’d grown up. They’d go to her childhood home and assess the situation there before heading over to Nathan’s family’s compound. Cyrus’ plan had been less clear at that point. Or maybe he hadn’t told her everything, which was what she suspected from the way he went silent whenever she asked him about it.
He wouldn’t have wanted her to worry. Her mouth felt dry, and she felt around inside her coat until she pulled out a peppermint. She didn’t always carry them but she felt lucky they were still in there. Popping it in her mouth, she tried to figure out what to do next. There had to be a street sign at some point somewhere. Didn’t there? Could she be lost forever on this road?
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Betsy. You are a strong woman. You survived your childhood. You survived Nathan in New York. You became a werewolf and mated an Alpha. Extremists have attacked you. Certainly, you can handle walking down the road Just suck it up and stop being such a chicken.”