Lowlander Silverback (Gorilla Shifter Royalty 1) (7 page)

“My wife and I never had kids,” Mac said with a dreamy look at the photo Kong was staring at. “We tried, but it didn’t happen for us before she got sick. And then Layla came along, and I got my shot at raising one after all. Funny how things work out sometimes.”

Kong sat down in the chair and relaxed into it. “She told me about her parents leaving.”

Mac’s lips ticked as he shook his head in disgust. “They weren’t fit in the first place. Layla fell to pieces when they left, but me? I was glad they were gone. At least Layla had a shot of a couple of normal years before she went out on her own. It was late in her life to give her stability, but she took to it. Most kids would’ve acted out, but not her. She was a Steady-Eddie. Responsible beyond what the kids at her school were, but she’d already been on her own a lot by then.” Mac swung his intelligent gaze to Kong. “I’m so proud of that kid I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Kong grinned and nodded. “She sure loves you.”

Mac nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Do you know what she does every morning, first thing?”

Kong shook his head. He didn’t know nearly enough about Layla.

“She drives out to the cemetery and waters my late wife’s grave. Gloria has the greenest patch of grass and the cleanest headstone. I used to do it. Every day I visited my wife because I still feel very much married. But when my health went, Layla picked up where I couldn’t. She brings me pictures every time she visits, and my Gloria has different flower arrangements in every one.”

Kong’s throat tightened as he fell for Layla even more. She was a good one. A genuinely decent person. Perhaps she was the best he’d ever met, and he was saying goodbye in a letter.

“Can I ask you something?” Kong said softly as he fingered the folded paper in his hands.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you ever re-marry? Lots of people find someone else after they lose a mate, but you didn’t. Why not?”

“Because my Gloria was it for me, son. And may you be lucky enough to find a woman like that. I had thirty good years with the love of my life. I lived an entire lifetime with her. Some men only get one big love, Kong. One shot at that kind of happiness. Anyone else would’ve just felt like filler until I died and joined Gloria again.”

Mac watched him for a long time, but Kong couldn’t speak. Not now when he felt like Layla was that for him. The other females were the filler, and he was choosing them over something real with her.

“Layla has talked about you over the years,” Mac said quietly. “People don’t affect her like they do you or me. She shut down after her parents left and became protective of her heart. But with you, I saw that spark in her eyes again. It was nice to see her open up about someone other than me. I was hoping she wouldn’t be alone in this world when I go. This morning she said you would leave soon, though.”

Kong nodded his head, a deep ache unfurling in his chest. “I’ve been called away. I’ll be gone in a week.” He made a single clicking sound behind his teeth and met Mac’s sympathetic gaze. “I’m letting her down.”

Mac’s eyes rimmed with moisture as he pointed with a shaking, knobbed finger to the pirate romance Layla had gotten him from the library. “Read to me a while?”

Kong nodded and replaced the thick book on the end table with the goodbye note he’d brought for Layla.

“The second to last page of chapter sixteen,” Mac instructed.

Kong flipped through to the right page and read aloud. “As he watched his love float away at the helm of the small tug boat, he knew he’d made a grave mistake. A necessary one for her since she would be better off safe on land than on the arm of a high seas criminal, but a detrimental one to him. With every stroke his first mate rowed her away from him, his heart turned blacker, darker, and more hollow as a pain reared up inside of him and became too harsh to bear. He was killing himself by sending her away but saving her in the process, and all because of who he’d turned out to be. So many decisions in his life that had gotten him to this exact moment in time would haunt him, but he couldn’t regret the journey. The jagged road he’d taken in his life had led him to a few glorious moments with her. He’d lived more in the last two weeks than he had in the entirety of his forgettable life because he’d known love—the bone-deep kind that changed a man from the inside out. And now…he knew sacrifice.” Kong’s voice cracked on that last word, and he shut the book, unable to read anymore. He swallowed several times before he braved a glance back to Mac. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I’ll give her the note,” Mac said in a frail voice.

“Thanks.” Kong stood and strode for the door.

“Kong?” Mac asked.

Kong stopped and turned, leaned on the door frame. “Yes, sir?”

“You should read the ending to that book someday.”

Kong nodded, knowing he never would. “I’ll see you when I see you, Mac.”

The old man’s thin smile lifted and fell. “Goodbye, Kong.”

Layla was supposed to be off tonight, so when she bustled through the door and behind the bar top, Kong was utterly gut-punched.

“She isn’t supposed to be working tonight,” Kong muttered to Creed, dark-eyed alpha of the Gray Backs. “That’s the only reason I was okay with having this here.”

Jason was talking to Kirk in the corner while Kong shot pool with Creed. Beaston, the clever monster, had apparently told his crew about Kong’s troubles, as well as about Layla, and they had set up a going-away shindig at Sammy’s. They were also doing a bang-up job of keeping Kirk at a distance, which he appreciated more than they knew. Rhett had said he’d rather cut off one of his own balls than come to a Kong celebration, so he was getting a night off from that relentless prick as well. The going-away party had gone great until Layla came in looking like a million fucking bucks in a short, ripped-up jean skirt, fishnet stockings, and black combat boots that came mid-calf. And always with the tank top that showed the top half of those buxom tits of hers. And now, after one second of drinking her in, his dick was knocking on the seam of his jeans.

He forced his eyes back to the pool table to line up a shot before Kirk noticed his flighty attention. Willa danced by with a red feather boa around her neck singing a song about a matchmaker finding a find and catching a catch. He’d bet his sawmill the pint-sized red-headed hellion had something to do with Layla taking over Jackson’s shift midway through the night. Kong hid a smile and shook his head as he popped the cue ball into the red three. It blasted into the corner pocket. Damn, he was going to miss these bears.

“We got you a going-away card,” Willa said with a graceful spin before she leaned onto the pool table. She pulled an envelope from her bra and grinned up at him. “It’s not money.”

Kong snorted and ripped into the thick envelope. Inside the card read,
Don’t Go Asshole
in ugly bubble letters, and the Gray Backs and Ashe Crew had all signed it. In the very bottom corner, Beaston had simply written,
you are my friend
, and he and Aviana had signed their names underneath.

Kong’s throat tightened, and he tried to smile at Willa. He opened his mouth to pop off a witty retort, but none came.

“Oh, hairy monkey,” Willa murmured, throwing her tiny arms around his middle and squeezing him with an amazing amount of gusto for one so small. “This place isn’t going to be the same without you.”

“Willa, you’re killing me.”

She whispered, “It’s okay to cry.”

“No, I mean you’re squeezing the shit out of me.”

“Oh. Bear muscles,” she explained, easing away and flexing. “As almost alpha, I don’t know my own strength.”

Creed sighed behind her and chalked up his pool cue. “Willa, you are
second
, not
almost alpha
.”

It’s all the same
, Willa mouthed to Kong. She whipped her cell phone from her back pocket and nearly blinded him with the bejeweled case that protected it. She punched in a number and waited, hip cocked against the pool table as she bit her thumbnail. “Oh! It’s ringing.”

The landline behind the bar was trilling at the same time Willa shoved the phone into his palm and whispered, “Good luck.”

“What?” he barked out as panic dumped adrenaline into his veins. But Willa was already prancing off toward Kirk, flailing her feather boa gracefully.

“Sammy’s,” Layla clipped out.

“Uuuuh, hi.” He turned and shot her a glance behind the bar.

“I’m busy. Someone is apparently having a going-away party I wasn’t invited to.” Her voice shook with anger and something else he didn’t understand. “Nothing like serving drinks at a farewell party for the man I love.”

She made to slam the phone back onto the cradle nailed to the wall, but Kong said, “Wait.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead and checked that Kirk was busy. Willa had draped herself across him, and Jason was singing in an off-key opera voice. Matt was in the process of positioning himself in between Kirk and Kong, cutting off his guard’s line of site. Well played, Gray Backs. Kong turned and rolled his shoulders as he looked at the wall and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that in the note. I got it by the way. Nicely done giving it to Mac instead of telling me in person.”

“Because I can’t,” Kong murmured. “I can’t see you. I can’t talk to you. You think I want it like this? I fucking love you, Layla. I
love
you. I do. There it is.” He gritted his teeth and murmured, “I’ve never said that to anyone before, and look at where it’s getting me. I’m gutting us both.”

When he ghosted a glance at the bar, Layla had her back to everyone, and her shoulders sagged. “How did everything get so fucked up?”

That would be his fault. Or rather the animal inside of him. The birthmark. The traditions of his people. All of it was on him. Layla was perfect. A perfect rose in a summer garden, and he was the weed steeling her water, her life, clinging to her roots until she suffocated.

“Do you know how hard it is to love a man I can’t touch?” she whispered brokenly.

A soft growl rattled his throat, and he tossed a look to Kirk who was laughing with the Gray backs as Georgia sauntered over with a round of shots. She shoved two in Kirks fists as the rest of the crew lifted their tiny glasses and toasted him. It was now or never if he wanted to steel a moment with her. Rhett was back at the cabin, and Kirk was more relaxed in his guard duties, and if his slurring words were anything to go by, well on his way to three sheets to the wind.

“Meet me in the office,” he murmured.

“When?”

“Now.” He hung up the glittering phone and set it on the green felt of the table.

Willa gave him a wink when he muttered he was going to take a piss. Kirk didn’t even respond, so Kong weaved through the crowd and into the back hallway. Layla was already waiting, pacing when he stepped into the office.

“The door doesn’t shut,” she whispered, her bright blue eyes round. She smelled like worry and adrenaline.

But Kong was a problem solver, and a forceful shove to the door sealed that sucker tighter than a tomb. As he turned, Layla slammed into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. Layla, his Layla. Damn this felt good, right here with her body wrapped around his.

“Why are you going now? I thought you would have more time.”

“Fiona called me the day I dropped you off at Mac’s. Rhett got suspicious I met someone and ratted me out. I think it sped up the process.”

“I don’t want them to have you. I don’t want you protecting them. I want you for me,” she said in a voice as soft as a breath.

Kong winced as his chest crumpled inward with pain. Damn, he wished things were different. He wanted her to be safe with him, but he was only one silverback, and Fiona could sic the entirety of his people on him, and on Layla, if he wasn’t careful.

“I want you,” she said, stepping back.

He angled his head and frowned. “What?”

“If this is all I have with you for our whole life, I want you.”

“Layla…” Kong shook his head. “I signed…”

“I don’t give a good goddamn about some contract you were forced to sign, and I give even less fucks about
tainting your seed
. You’re mine, Kong, and if all you’re leaving me with is a memory to last my whole life, I want a good one.” She ran her hands underneath his shirt, over the ridges of his ab muscles.

His eyes rolled closed because, holy hell, she felt good against his skin. On her tiptoes, she kissed his tripping pulse at the base of his throat. His hands tightened around her waist.
Be gentle. Layla likes gentle.

He’d prided himself on being an honorable man and following the contract, but it had all been shot to hell the day he’d given in and talked to his mate. He’d never wanted anything more than to bury himself deep in Layla and empty himself inside her, just to be close. Just to share a moment like that with the woman he loved before he ripped himself away from here and lived the rest of his life in numbing emptiness. Dammit, he wanted to feel! He wanted to know how mating should be. Not just some scientific humping to create offspring.

“Take off those fishnets, Layla,” he growled out in a voice he barely recognized. Her scent was filling his head, making it hard to think.

Layla’s pupils contracted. She swayed slightly, but regained her balance and began to kick out of her boots. Too slow.

With a snarl, he gripped the edge of the desk and shoved it against the door, then ran his hand over the surface, scattering everything onto the floor. He gripped her hips and slid her onto the table, then reached between her legs.
Riiip.
The fishnets weren’t an obstacle anymore.

Layla gasped and slid her arms around his shoulders just as his lips collided with hers. These weren’t sweet kisses like their first one had been. There wasn’t time for that. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down just enough to unsheathe himself, then he pushed her panties to the side—lacy if his sense of touch was spot on—and cupped her sex. He wasn’t small, and he needed to make sure she could take him.

He pushed his finger into her. So wet. Warm. Fuck, he was losing his mind. He pulled out and slid two fingers in. Her hands were on his dick now, stroking as his lips moved against hers. He shoved his tongue past her lips as he jerked her to the edge of the desk. So wet. Wet and ready. The growl was constant in his chest, but he was in it now. If it scared her, she’d have to deal. This was him. This was what it was like to be with a silverback shifter.

He pressed the head of his cock against her, dipped inside by an inch. So tight. Fuck, she felt good around him. His hips jerked as he pushed inside her again.
Steady. Don’t hurt her.
Layla arched back as his kisses trailed to her neck. He sucked hard as he pushed into her completely. That would leave a mark, but so fucking what? This was what he got with her, and he wanted a mark on her. He wanted her to look in the mirror and remember the exact second he took her. Claimed her. Claimed her? Yeah, that sounded right. She was his, and no one else for the rest of his miserable life would replace his Layla.

He grunted as he eased out of her. Wrapping his arm around her back, he pulled her closer and slammed into her. She was mewling, begging, but she had to be quiet here. He kissed her hard, bit her lip to remind her to be quiet. Shit, he didn’t want that. He wanted her screaming out his name. He wanted her loud. His stomach flexed as he pushed into her again. Another sexy groan from Layla, and he was gone. Not thinking straight. Rutting like an animal, he pumped into her, careful to hit her clit every time they connected because, dammit, if this is all he could give her, she was going to come. He was going to take care of her. Satisfy her, satiate her— his animal required it. Duty. His duty shouldn’t be to female strangers whose genetics made them a viable match. His duty was to his mate—the woman who had his heart. The only woman he wanted to breed with. His teeth were elongating, just the canines. He could feel the burning ache of them.

He wanted to bite her. It wouldn’t Turn her. It would only show other silverbacks she was claimed. He wanted to mark her, but wouldn’t hurt her, not when he couldn’t stick around to defend his claim. He pumped into her faster, and she met him blow for blow, soft noises of abandon in her throat.
Don’t Change. Don’t scare her. Make her come.

The growl in his throat was louder now, uncontrollable as pressure filled his dick. He was close, so close. He shoved her backward and laid her back against the desk. Jeans still clinging, he rolled his hips into her, locked his arms on either side of her head and watched her face as he took her. Bowed against the desk, she raked her claws against his back and exposed her neck.
Good mate. Just like that.

His eyes would be blazing, and his teeth were long now. He should scare her, but when she opened her eyes to dazed slits, a wicked smile came over her face. “Do it,” she gasped out.

Kong slammed into her again as punishment for asking for things she knew nothing about.

“I’m going to come soon,” she said on a breath. “Do it.”

Kong lowered to her, bucking into her. So wet, fucking her had a sound. Sexy. He teased, grazing his teeth against her shoulder. He gripped her hair at her nape, steadying her as he thrust into her hard enough to shove her up the desk toward the door.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he gritted out. A few more strokes, and he was going to blow. So tight. So good. “It won’t Turn you or fix things for us. It’s not like that for gorillas. It’ll only hurt and scar you.”

Layla kissed his shoulder, then sank her teeth deep into his skin. Harder. He gritted his teeth at the pain. Harder still, she clamped down until the scent of iron filled the air. Little hellion human mate. What was she doing? Marking him so that every female he ever bred would see proof of his betrayal.

Good mate. Smart mate.

Holding back a roar, he sank his canines into her shoulder—shallow to keep her pain minimal, but deep enough that his teeth would leave four pink puncture mark scars. She cried out his name and clawed his back as her body clenched around his in deep, quick pulses. Her orgasm triggered his. He released her skin from his bite and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes against the ecstasy as his dick contracted and shot jets of seed into her. Over and over, he pulsed into her, filling her until her legs were slick with him. “Fuck,” he whispered, shaking as he bucked into her again, slower this time. He lifted off her by inches as he continued to stroke into her wet heat, uninterested in breaking their coupling yet. In and out, slower and slower until her aftershocks morphed into another orgasm. This one drew a gasp from her lips and his name whispered like a prayer. His Layla.