her whole body went soft and needy.
“We’re here to work,” she made a token protest, but from the light in his eyes, he could scent her desire.
“No problem, Meggie mine.” He ran a finger over her lips. “I’ll make you work for each and every orgasm.”
A couple of hours later, Tynan slowed as the trees opened into a meadow. He could scent other shifters, hear the sounds of conversations, of a guitar, of a fire.
They were arriving somewhat late. Having found that sunny patch of grass, he’d…had fun. Meggie had come so many times that she’d wobbled when she stood. It was good they were in wolf form—she’d needed all four legs.
And she’d nipped him when he laughed.
After a quick glance at the festival grounds, Tynan skirted the tree line and entered a big tent. The back flap opened to the forest so those in animal form could slip in and shift to human.
Meggie followed him in.
Around the sides of the tent, personal backpacks and duffels were meticulously organized by territory. He found the North Cascades section and, after a few sniffs, located where Oliver had left their bags. Dropping the small pack of their clothing he’d carried, he shifted to human.
As they dressed, he watched Meggie. Her nipples were still swollen and red, her cheeks beard burned.
She caught him looking and flushed.
So loveable. Drawing her into his arms, all silky skin and soft flesh, he nibbled on her shoulder.
She leaned against him. “I just realized we forgot to pack sleeping bags.”
“We didn’t forget. For non-human events, most of us spend the night in animal shape. Our pack will make a big furry pile.”
Her eyes lit.
Poor little wolf that something so commonplace hadn’t been part of her experience. Being Daonain, she’d been targeted by the worst of humanity.
Now, he and Donal would have the joy of showing her the best of being a shifter.
And in that light, he needed to talk with his snail-slow littermate. Sure and his brother was thicker than a stump when it came to relationships. Nonetheless, it was time—past time—to take the next step. After all, Meggie was practically living with them.
Of course, many shifters never took it further, content to love each other, yet still participate in Gatherings every full moon. Tynan shook his head. He wanted more than that for them.
He wanted to see their lifemating bracelets on her wrist. Wanted a lifetime of waking with her snuggled between him and Donal, breathing in her scent, giving her everything that was in his heart.
Yes, it was time to have that talk with Donal.
Under the biggest trees at the edge of the meadow, Margery pushed to her feet. Stretching her arms over her head, she groaned. Driving a car could sure knot a person’s muscles.
Driving, then lots and lots of sex, then helping set up the dining tent, and now, tending wounds. Her lips quirked as she watched the two troublesome cubs dash toward the dining tent as if they’d never gotten all scraped up falling out of a tree.
When Donal arrived tomorrow, he’d have a fit when he learned the Cold Creek teens had shared their favorite hobby with the other territories’ cubs.
Treeways were being created in the forest all around the festival grounds.
Grinning, she boosted herself up into one of the trees to look. Yes, there it was. The tops of the larger branches had been smoothed to make secure landing spots and were marked on top with a dab of light paint. One easy to use tree path that was invisible from below.
The tree next to hers shook as a cub jumped to it.
Athol shifted to human, balancing easily on the branch. “You like our treeway?” After his rough first shift when he’d panicked and slashed the cublings, he’d worked exceedingly hard to gain control over his forms.
“It’s very cool,” she said honestly. “Makes me wish I were a cat.”
Athol puffed up at the compliment before heading back to join his friends without bothering to shift.
Margery winced. All that bare skin. But the teens played up here in both forms.
Donal would be displeased that she hadn’t scolded them. “You’re encouraging that Gods-benighted, pixie-brained behavior?”
Hypocritical feline. Last week, she’d spotted him and Alec playing tag high up in the Cold Creek treeway. They’d moved far faster than the youngsters—and had a wonderful time.
Smiling, she dropped out of the tree and picked up her first-aid bag. A small healing tent was being erected near the center of the meadow. Supplies were already there. Since