Free Blood Rights [Wicked River 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Gabrielle Evans Page A

thigh. “Who do you belong to, Moira?”
    “Say it,” Koba demanded when she didn’t respond. “Tell me who you belong to, kitten.”
    Moira couldn’t speak, though. Two shadowy figures had emerged just beyond the barn door, watching them in the waning light. She couldn’t see them clearly, but she felt sure one of them was her beta, Rip.
    Her brain screamed that she should be mortified at being watched, but her body erupted into a firestorm of heightened arousal. It was so naughty, so utterly taboo, and her belly clenched as her second release took her captive. “You, both of you,” she whispered before crying out to the rafters.
    “Mine,” Brock growled, pushing up and sinking sharp canines into her shoulder.
    “Ours,” Koba amended right before his eyes shifted to their lupine equivalent, and his own fangs pierced the side of her neck.
    There was no pain, no discomfort, only an erotic pleasure so unimaginable that Moira gasped and shuddered through yet another orgasm. Power flowed through her, the long-dormant beast gnashing its teeth and screaming in victory.
    Pointed fangs burst through her gums, the room came into sharper focus, and scents she’d never smelled before assaulted her. Acting on instinct, she bit into the salty flesh on Koba’s shoulder, groaning at the sweet taste of his blood.
    Satisfied that her mark would last for all to see, she extracted her canines and whipped her head around, striking at Brock’s neck and claiming him as well. Her mates growled and groaned, bucking against her in jerky movements until fiery wetness filled her depths to overflowing.
    “That’s my bedroll, you asshole!” Moira recognized the voice of Casey Marsh. He didn’t sound angry—maybe a little breathless and tortured, but definitely not angry.
    The other man spun on his heels and stomped out of the barn, driving his fist into the wood of the door as he went, confirming Moira’s suspicion that the figure was Rip. “Oh, god,” she moaned miserably.
    “Stop,” Brock chastised. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
    “I know.” That wasn’t the problem at all. “An unstable, pissed-off wolf is the last thing we need right now, though.”
    “He’ll get over it,” Koba said without a hint of concern. “How are you feeling?”
    “Strange. Different.” Unmitigated power crawled over her skin and sparked inside her body. “Amazing,” she added with an uncharacteristic giggle.
    “Dude!” Casey called. “I don’t want to see your ass, Koba!”
    “Then stop looking!”
    “It’s right there, though. How am I supposed to not look?” He paused for a moment and pointed to a space just to the left of their trio. “Is that my lube?”
    “Get out!” Brock barked.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” Koba asked, ignoring everyone else. He stared her up and down for a long time before speaking again. “You’re not a lycan.”
    Shit! “I, uh, I meant to tell you. I was going to tell you. I…”
    “Easy.” He dipped his head and brushed their lips together. “Just tell me now.”
    Taking a deep breath and girding her proverbial loins, Moira held tightly to Brock’s hand for support as she looked up into Koba’s eyes and prayed her confession wouldn’t blow up in her face. She tried several times, but she couldn’t get the words out. Why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn’t she just say it?
    “Moira, just tell me.”
    “It’s okay, Mo,” Brock said reassuringly. “Just say it.”
    Swallowing loudly, Moira tried once more, and though her voice came out small and weak, she finally managed to say the words. “I’m a demon.”

Chapter Seven
     
    Koba had taken the news in stride, just as Brock had known he would, but they hadn’t really discussed it, either. After Moira’s announcement about her demon parentage, Koba had simply nodded, kissed her chastely, and told her that it didn’t matter.
    Forty-eight hours later, they still hadn’t talked about it. Actually, they seemed to be