Page 4 of His Brazen Mate

She sucked in her breath, throwing her head back as she called his name as she orgasmed. Drake reached behind her to free her from the restraints. Her entire body convulsed as Drake continued to thrust in and out with an unrelenting rhythm. He needed to stop, to slow down, to let them both catch a breath, but he didn’t. He continued rubbing her clit as he drove into her body again and again.

Her inner walls shook and quivered as she grasped his upper arms. Her breath sped up, and the noises she was making became little whimpers as her orgasm began to overtake her despite her wishes to hold out on him.

“Come. Now,” he growled.

The woman’s body stiffened in anticipation, and she began to pant. Suddenly, he could feel her pussy clamped down on his length as she called his name. He gave a last, ferocious thrust deep inside her, and she screamed in ecstasy, her pussy spasming all along his length, her legs trembling as she writhed in his hold. Her pussy greedily milked his cock. Drake shuddered, savoring every bit of pleasure he could as he held her in his arms.

Rolling away, she whispered, "Find me."

Her voice echoed in the depths of Drake’s mind as he woke with a start, the image of the woman lingering in his thoughts. There was something about her, a connection between them he couldn’t explain. Longing and foreboding intertwined within him, leaving him restless and more determined than ever. The truth, no matter how painful, would come to light.

CHAPTER 3

MEGAN

Megan Reeves stepped out of the small, rustic cabin she was renting on the Alaska Peninsula. The crisp Alaskan air bit her cheeks. The sun had just begun its descent, casting a golden hue over the vast, untamed landscape. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of pine and snow. She was here for her job, but this place had offered her sanctuary, a place where she could escape the complexities of her human life and embrace her true nature.

She scanned the horizon, her keen eyes spotting a narrow trail winding through the dense forest. The path seemed to beckon her, promising solitude and freedom. She stripped off her clothes, folded them neatly, and placed them back inside the cabin. The familiar tingling of the shift rippled through her as she called her snow leopard forward, closing her eyes and surrendering to the change.

The air around Megan began to shimmer, the first sign of the transformation taking hold. The swirling mist that allowed for a shift appeared, rising from the ground and spiraling around her feet. It moved with a life of its own, wrapping around her legs and slowly climbing higher. The mist was thick and vibrant, shifting through an array of colors—blues, purples, and silvers blending in an otherworldly dance.

As the mist enveloped her, thunder rumbled softly, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to come from within the vortex itself. Lightning crackled through the mist, brief flashes illuminating Megan's form. The electricity danced along her skin—like St. Elmo’s Fire along the mast of a ship—not painful but exhilarating, a herald of the change occurring within her.

The colors in the mist grew more intense, swirling faster and faster, merging and separating in a hypnotic display. The thunder grew louder, and the lightning more frequent, casting stark shadows and brilliant highlights across the misty cocoon. It was as if the very elements were conspiring to reshape her, to reveal her true nature.

With a final burst of lightning, the mist tightened around Megan, the colors reaching a blinding crescendo. The thunder roared, and then, just as suddenly, the mist began to dissipate. It fell away in wisps and tendrils, sinking back into the earth from which it had risen.

In the aftermath of the elemental storm, Megan was no longer human. Where she had stood, now crouched a magnificent snow leopard, her fur glistening in the remnants of the mist. Her eyes, once human, now gleamed with the sharp, intelligent gaze of the great cat. She stretched her new form, muscles rippling under her thick, spotted coat.

The transformation was complete, the swirling mist of thunder, lightning, and colors having unveiled her true essence. The forest seemed to recognize the change, the night air carried the scent of her wild, untamed spirit. She was ready to embrace the freedom and power of her snow leopard once more. She stretched, flexing her claws and feeling the strength coiled within her lithe frame.

With a final glance back at the cabin, Megan bounded off the porch and down the trail, her paws silent on the snow-covered ground. The forest, with its towering trees, formed a canopy high above enveloped her. She moved with grace and agility while her heightened senses, made every sound and scent vividly clear. The thrill of the run surged through her, a primal joy she could only experience in this form.

The trail led her to a frozen stream, its surface glistening in the fading light. She leaped onto the ice, her paws finding purchase with ease. The cold seeped through her fur, invigorating her further. She ran along the river, her reflection a ghostly shadow on the ice. The vast expanse of wilderness that was an endless playground for her snow leopard stretched out before her.

Megan slowed as she approached a clearing, the trees parting to reveal a breathtaking vista. The mountains loomed in the distance; their peaks dusted with snow. She paused, her chest heaving, and gazed out at the landscape. Here, she felt truly alive, connected to the wild in a way that transcended her human existence.

She crouched low, her eyes narrowing as she spotted movement in the distance. A herd of caribou grazed, unaware of her presence. Megan watched them for a moment, her predatory instincts stirring, but she had no desire to hunt. Tonight was about freedom, about embracing the wildness within her.

As the sky darkened, stars began to appear, twinkling against the velvet backdrop. Megan let out a low, contented growl, her breath misting in the cold air. She turned back toward the forest, ready to continue her run. The night was young, and the wilderness awaited.

Megan wove through the trees with effortless speed. The forest was alive with nocturnal sounds—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl, and the faint scurrying of small creatures beneath the snow. Each noise was a symphony, blending into the background of her rhythmic breathing and the soft thud of her paws on the ground.

She followed the trail deeper into the woods, relishing the sensation of freedom. Time seemed to lose meaning as she moved, her body attuned to the primal rhythms of the wild. She ran until her muscles ached pleasantly, her energy ebbing but her spirit soaring.

Eventually, she found herself at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a frozen lake that shimmered in the starlight. Megan sat on her haunches, her tail curling around her feet as she gazed at the breathtaking view. This place, so remote and untouched, felt like a secret world all her own.

The cold night air nipped at her, and she knew it was time to head back. Reluctantly, she turned away from the cliff and retraced her steps, her paws leaving faint imprints in the snow. The forest seemed to welcome her back, the path familiar and reassuring.

As she neared the cabin, she slowed to a walk, her breaths coming in steady puffs of mist. She approached the porch and paused, savoring the last moments of her time in her snow leopard form. The transformation back to her human shape was always bittersweet, but she knew it was part of who she was.

With a deep breath, Megan allowed the change to take her. Once the mist of the shift had receded, she stood, naked and human, her skin tingling from the cold and the residual energy of her run. She quickly went inside and dressed, the warmth of her clothes a stark contrast to the chill outside.

She closed the door behind her, enjoying the cozy feel of the cabin, and moved to the window, gazing out at the forest. The stars still twinkled brightly, the night still holding its tranquil beauty. Overhead, a shadow caught her eye, but when she tried to focus, it was no longer there. Perhaps it had been nothing, but with it, a feeling of disorientation had swept over her. She dismissed both the sighting and the feeling as nothing more than manifestations of the stress of being undercover.

She made herself a cup of tea and sat by the fire, the flames casting a soft glow around the room. As she sipped the hot liquid, she felt a profound sense of peace. The run had invigorated her, grounding her in a way that only the wild could. Tomorrow she would resume her investigation. She had managed to snag a ticket to one of the most highly coveted bourbon tasting events.

Northern Lights Distillery hosted an annual event, and she’d been granted an invitation by Magnus McAllister himself. He seemed to have figured out her ruse and had said he had information to share. Now Magnus was dead, having died in a car accident. Rumor was his son, a decorated SEAL, had resigned his commission and returned home to take his father’s place. Megan wondered if Drake McAllister might prove to be as useful as his father.

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