Claimed by the Beast(3)

"Yes, sir," she managed, crying now not only for the pain but for the fact she'd broken his trust. "I'm sorry."

He left her there for a few moments as he walked to the kitchen and  drank a glass of water. He then walked behind her and his hand was on  one burning cheek, spreading her open. She heard him unzip his pants and  for as much pain as she'd been in moments ago, for as humiliating as  her position was, her pussy reacted.

His other hand was on her other cheek and he pulled her cheeks wide. He  then pressed the huge head of his cock against her pussy and pushed  hard. She groaned, his cock too thick and her passage too tight after  nearly a week without sex. He didn't stop though and he didn't move  gently. Instead, he pushed her deeper into the couch, gripped her hips,  and fucked her hard, coming quickly after several powerful thrusts. When  he pulled out of her, she stayed bent over, feeling semen leak out of  her and drip down her thighs while listening to him zip his pants.                       
       
           



       

She remained as she was while he stood behind her. She looked up to  watch him walk into the kitchen but dropped her gaze when he tore off  several paper towels and returned to stand behind her, wiping at her  tender thighs, cleaning her. He discarded the towels, taking his time to  return to her. All the while, her bottom throbbed.

"Pull up your pants and panties and straighten up," he said.

She did and turned to look at him.

He put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her tears. She leaned into him while he held her.

"I know you meant well, but you know better," he said.

She nodded, her face still in his hands.

"I don't ever want to come home from a trip and have to punish my wife first thing again."

"You won't have to, I promise."

"Good," he said, pulling her in for a tight embrace as he rubbed her  back. "I love you, Kayla. If something had happened …  I don't know what I  would do without you."

"I love you too, Elijah."

"Come on, let's go get some sleep."

"Am I forgiven?" she asked.

He nodded. "I can't stay mad at you," he said, hugging her once more.





Chapter Two





Professor Lance Weston sat behind his desk studying the same file he'd been studying for the last hour.

"Good night, Professor Weston," one of the interns called out.

Lance turned in his direction. "Good night, Doug. See you tomorrow."

"Don't work too hard," joked Doug.

Lance smiled and watched him climb onto the elevator. Once the doors  closed behind him, he collected the key he needed and stood. His left  hand shook just a little and he shoved it into his pocket. No one was  left to see it now. He didn't need to hide the trembling but he did  anyway. He hated it, hated the disease that had already stolen so much  and would, in time, kill him. His grandfather had died of it within five  years of its onset and this was year three for Lance. Parkinson's came  on quickly in his family but he was close to a cure, he was sure of it.  His medications to control the trembling were heavy and the side effects  caused too great an impact on his life. No, he needed a different sort  of solution. Eric Maddox had been on the right track but his murder and  the explosions that had destroyed all of their research, not to mention  samples, had set Lance back. He had managed to salvage a small piece of  tissue sample, and although he knew shifters still walked the earth,  they were about as accessible to him as the moon.

But he had done well with the samples he had. He was close and if his  test later this week proved a success, he could be finished with the  illness forever. Hell, he'd become a millionaire.



* * *



Elijah was unable to sleep and so at six am, he climbed quietly out of  bed, wrote a note for Kayla, and left. As several inches of snow covered  the roads, he stripped off his clothes and walked into the woods behind  their home. There, he shifted, navigating the deep snow easily in wolf  form as he ran toward Rachel's house.

It had been a long time since he had shifted and it was invigorating.

He tried now, as he always did, to hear Marcus. To send him a message.  To receive at least some word, some small indication that his younger  brother was still alive somewhere. A part of him understood Marcus's  reluctance to return-eight years in captivity watching your brother  slowly mutilated after witnessing the brutal murders of your entire  family could damage the strongest of men. Phillip and Eric had destroyed  a part of Marcus as surely as they had killed the rest of Elijah's  family. But damn it, it was time for him to return! Rachel needed him.  Couldn't he feel that? Didn't he know it? They were bonded. Rachel was  different than Kayla. Her family carried a specific and unique gene-one  that gave them access into the telepathic communication lines of his  pack. Rachel knew how to use those powers, he was certain of it. And  that thought only served to solidify the other thought that had been  nagging at him for too long: the thought that Marcus might be dead.

Elijah roared and took off in a hard run. It was time to take care of  his family and Rachel was very much a part of that family. She needed  guidance. Kayla's touch was sweet and soft, but now, it was time for a  firm hand.

The house was still dark and quiet when he approached. He shifted back  to his human form and, using the key he kept hidden in the backyard, he  let himself into the house. He listened for her and could hear the soft  sounds of sleep coming from upstairs. His mind drifted to Clarissa for a  moment and the sounds she would make when she slept, how she snuggled  up against him whenever he held her, how she looked at him, really  looked at him.                       
       
           



       

He smiled and went to the spare room where he kept a set of clothes for  himself and dressed. Returning to the kitchen, he switched on a light,  shook his head at the mess and put on a pot of coffee. The living room  was in slightly better condition and once the coffee was ready, he  poured a cup and sat down to wait for Rachel to wake.



* * *



Rachel opened her eyes but remained perfectly still. Someone was in the  house. She felt it even though when she listened, she heard nothing more  than the usual sounds. She sat up slowly and inhaled the scent of  coffee. Pushing the covers off, she climbed out of bed, picked up the  baseball bat she kept by her bed and headed to the stairs.

An intruder wouldn't make coffee. She knew that much. But the memory of  the men who had come for Kayla still frightened her and she proceeded  with caution down the stairs.

"Coffee?"

Rachel jumped and let out a small scream just as Elijah turned on a  lamp. "What are you doing, trying to give me a heart attack?" she asked,  taking the last two steps into the living room.

Elijah smiled and stood from his seat on the couch.

"What time is it and why are you sitting in the dark?" she asked.

"It's about seven in the morning and I didn't want to wake you," he  said, taking a few steps closer to her. "I never see you anymore and you  never call so I figured if I wanted to catch up with you, best to  invite myself. How are you, Rachel?"

She set the bat down and touched a hand to her bandage when she saw him glance at it.

"Been better. You?" she asked, knowing he knew what had happened. He had to know.

"I'm all right. Traveling some with work, but Kayla would have told you that last night."

Rachel turned away for a moment. "I need a cup of coffee," she said.

He studied her and what she saw in his eyes was far from the anger she expected. "Sit down, I'll get you a cup."

She nodded and took a seat on the sofa. Elijah returned a few moments later with a mug of steaming coffee and handed it to her.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, taking a seat next to her. He waited until  she took a sip before proceeding. "Mind telling me what happened last  night? Why my wife had to take our baby out in that weather and come  pick you up at the hospital?"

Now there was a slight edge to his voice. She handed her coffee to him and he set it down on the coffee table.

"I was in a car accident. I didn't know who else to call."

"How about me?"

She shrugged her shoulders but couldn't meet his gaze.

"Hey, look at me," he said.

She did.

"Don't shrug your shoulders at me. You didn't call me because you didn't  want me to find out the guy you'd been in the car with was drunk. You  do realize how lucky you were, don't you?" he asked. All the while she  was unable to meet his eyes.

"Lucky? Yeah, right."

"Listen, Rachel, you're like a sister to me, you know that. What's happening with Marcus-I'm sorry for that."