“Not yet.” He rose, and I let go of his hair reluctantly. “Wait for me, Robyn.” I propped myself on one elbow, watching as he fumbled in his brother’s nightstand, then tore open a condom. A moment later, he settled over me, supporting his weight on his elbows. His tongue trailed up my neck, pushing my head to one side as he sucked my earlobe into his mouth. “Almost…” he whispered, as he positioned himself between my thighs. Then he slid inside me in one long, smooth stroke.

For a moment, neither of us moved. I tightened around him, enjoying the pressure and friction, and he groaned softly in my ear. Then I rocked beneath him, and he groaned louder.

Titus pulled back, then sank into me again. And again. We found our rhythm, and I rose to meet him over and over. Soon that pressure built again, an ache made of promise.

When I couldn’t wait any longer, I wrapped one leg around Titus’s thigh and pushed on his shoulder. He slid one arm around me and rolled us over.

Pleased, I sat up, both hands braced on his sweat-damp chest, and took control of the rhythm. Driving us faster and faster as I chased that swelling, spiraling release.

“That’s it,” he moaned as I rode him. “Show me what you like.” Titus’s hands slid down my waist to grip my hips, pinning me to him, increasing the friction as I set the pace.

“Robyn,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips. He was close.

“Almost,” I panted. I sat upright, my hands in my own hair, grinding into him at a new angle, and suddenly everything tightened.

Pleasure erupted through me, tearing a cry from my throat as I rode him frantically, and for a moment I was aware of nothing but the release washing over me with every rock of my hips. Every new jolt of friction.

“Robyn!” he cried as he came, thrusting into me, pinning me against him as he bucked up from the mattress.

I rode my release until it ebbed into an aching satisfaction. Until finally, I collapsed against his shoulder, my hair spread over his arm. We breathed in sync, his heart pounding frantically beneath my ear.

Still buried inside me, he throbbed, and little aftershocks of pleasure fired through me as I tightened involuntarily around him.

“Three years, huh?” I teased, running one hand down his side. “That was some pretty impressive control.”

“It was an effort,” he admitted. “But it can only get better, right?”

I groaned. “I’m not sure I can handle anything better than that.”

He laughed, one hand wrapped around my back, holding me to him. “I have confidence that you’re up to the challenge.” Then he rolled us over and withdrew as he stood. “Be right back.”

I got up to find the pillows, and Titus returned as I was spreading the flat sheet over the bed. “Oh good. I was afraid you’d be dressed.”

“Nope.” I crawled onto the bed, beneath the top sheet, and he curled up next to me. Around me. One arm draped over my side. “I like naked.”

“So I recall.” He chuckled. “I like you naked too.”

“Is it weird that we’re in your brother’s bed? Do you think he’d mind?”

“I know for a fact that he would not. He’s always been generous with his things.”

I huffed. “Probably because you always had the money to buy more things.” Then a new thought occurred to me. “Do you think that’s changed, now that he’s been infected? Some shifters are highly territorial.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Titus brushed my hair up over the pillow and away from his face. “But if anyone is likely to recognize me as an Alpha, it’s my baby brother. I was the only authority figure in his life long before either of us were shifters.”

“What’s Justus like?” I asked, snuggling against him. “I mean, before he was infected?”

“He’s a normal nineteen-year-old. Young and stupid, in a lot of ways. But he’s a good guy. Generous, like I said. Funny. He likes video games and movies, but he also watches the news, if you can believe that.”

“I actually can believe that. I hate the news, but Abby was a political science major. In school, she was always talking about the distribution of power and how some laws were written to hold people back, rather than protect their freedoms. What I study in the past, she studies in the present. Without the benefit of historical hindsight.”

“I have to admit, that’s come in handy out here. We’re building all that from scratch, and we could use both current and historical expertise.” Titus exhaled against my neck, and chills shot up my spine. “I always thought Justus would have been interested in what I’m doing, and now I guess I’ll get to tell him about it. Assuming we ever find him. And the council doesn’t have him executed.”

I rolled over to face him. “Your brother’s going to be fine, Titus. He didn’t mean to infect anyone. Leland already told us that. The council is a pain in the ass, and they’re way too stuffy for their own good, but Faythe and Abby’s dad will never let them execute Justus for something he did by accident. Something he didn’t even know he was doing. They’re old and mean, but they’re not psychotic.”

Titus frowned. “Robyn, the council has been executing strays for doing exactly what Justus did, under those same, ignorant circumstances, for generations. If I want to save him, I’m going to have to come up with something a lot better than ‘he didn’t know what he was doing’.”

“Maybe not.” I shrugged, and the pillow moved with the motion. “Maybe it’s as easy as giving them something they want more than Justus. Like whoever infected him.”

SEVENTEEN

Titus

My brother’s bedroom had no curtains, so when the sun rose, I did too. Careful not to wake Robyn, I rolled over and stood to dig my phone from my jeans pocket.

The clock on the lock screen read seven minutes after eight am. I’d gotten less than four hours of sleep, but my body refused to submit to any more with my brother still missing. Even with Robyn’s naked warmth calling to me from the bed.

The only thing resembling breakfast in Justus’s kitchen was half a box of frozen toaster waffles and a four-pack of energy drinks. The boy lived on carbs and caffeine.

Grumbling, I put on a clean shirt from my suitcase and walked down to the cafe on the corner for breakfast burritos and four large paper cups of coffee that I didn’t have to brew myself. Blum and Robyn were still asleep when I returned, so I dumped a packet of sugar into one of the coffees and called Spencer Cole.