I’m celebrating getting Conduit 4 into the editor (and out of my mind, hopefully, for 10-14 days – yay) by dropping a longer Kandy excerpt (below!). YAY!
I’m going to play around with Kandy’s book until it’s time for me to do another draft of Conduit 4 (based on the editor’s story notes), so I’m still catching up with what I’ve already written and making certain I like the shape of the story, etc, etc.
I’m going to make myself a hot chocolate and then work on Misfits 2 for the rest of the day.
Have a great weekend!
– MCD
Reminder: typos abound, and possible tense changes. Anything in [parentheses] needs to be fact checked or I’m not happy with the phrasing yet.
This is Kandy’s book, Mistaken Loyalties (title is very subject to change) (aka Misfits 2)
Start here: Misfits 2: Chapter 1, Part 1
Or if you’re behind:
Chapter 1, Part 2
Chapter 1, Part 3
Chapter 1, Part 4
Content of note: explicit language and sexual situations. Please remember that this is Kandy’s book and all that implies. 😜
Jorgen relieved me of the duffle bag at the base of the exterior stairs of the open, multistorey parking lots. The chilled air chased away the bulk of the human scents, replacing cooking spices with gasoline, body order with oil and grease, and cloying perfume with a hint of greenery. Though no trees or bushes were near by, Vancouver always smelled green.
Jorgen took a deep breath, cleansing his nasal passages. Likely from every scent still clung to him from the plane.
With my hands mostly free again, I snapped off a large chunk of the chocolate bar, not bothering to peel the paper back first. Stuffing that hulk of it in my mouth, sans paper, I offered the other half to the silent wolf padding alongside me.
He smiled, taking it with a slight nod that called my attention to the significance of werewolves feeding each other. Had it just been myself and Jorgen, my [will trade fucks for treats] sign and the exchange of the chocolate bar might have be meant playfully. But in front of the other wolves the sharing of food held weight.
A significant that I just re-enforced by giving Jorgen a hunk of the bar.
I chewed, enjoying the contrast between the smooth, slightly bitter European chocolate and the crunchy toasted almonds while trying to decide if being paired with Jorgen in the minds of the East Coasters bothered me.
Our steps almost silent on the concrete and pavement, I prepaid the parking at the mobile kiosk and ate another bite of the bar before tucking the remainder away in the outside pocket of Jorgen’s duffle.
I’d parked as far away from the airport as I could, though spots had filled around me while I’d waited for the nordic wolf’s flight. Striding with purpose, we made it to the sleek white SUV I’d borrowed from an ancient vampire for the week before Jorgen asked the question he’d presumably been wanting to ask since he’d spotted the three other werewolves.
“Former lovers?”
I touched the latch at the back of the SUV, stepping back as it lifted on its touch-triggered mechanism. The key tucked in my pocket just needed to be near the vehicle in this newer model to unlock the doors. A teasing scent of old books and peppermint wafted out of the car.
Jorgen tilted his head slightly, his gaze indirect. Always so careful to not trigger me, even after busting down a London professor’s office door years ago, after catching my scent. Because, titles or no titles, cuffs or no cuffs, I was higher ranked than him. He’d always be beta. I knew he didn’t mind that position, not one bit, but he also liked having sex with me — hence the careful tone.
“You think I did all three?” I asked archly. “One by one or all together?”
He shrugged. “Tig is fairly new to the East Coast pack, since you left. But I don’t track your travel.”
That was the first time he’d acknowledge knowing anything about my past that I hadn’t outright told him. I narrowed my eyes at him, still trying to be somewhat reasonable. Though seeing Dedra had bothered more than I liked to admit. Because, honestly, I’d done background checks on Jorgen as well. Mostly before inviting him to visit for the first time.
“You’d know if I left Vancouver.”
He hummed, noncommittal.
“Or if anyone came here.”
He continued to avoid direct eye contact, tossing his duffle in the back hatch. I pressed the close button, folding my arms across my chest, and pinning him with a hard gaze.
He assessed my glare with a flick of his blue eyes, then chuffed playfully. “We don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t misread the situation.”
“You never misread anything.”
He grinned playfully, meeting my gaze directly. “I misread everything having to do with you.”
“I’m not that hard to understand.”
His eyebrows flew upward. A massive reaction — for him. But then I was outright lying. I just hadn’t heard the lie before I said it.
“Fine,” I huffed, lowering my own gaze slightly. “I liked the claiming.”
“Did you?” he murmured, voice dropping into a low pleased growl.
He still didn’t close the space between us though I was obviously inviting him, so I snarled pissily. “You know I did.”
He laughed quietly, shoulders slumping wearily. If I wanted him to participate in the sex I had planned — and I really did — I’d have to move the conversation along. I hated baldly divulging truths. Just laying everything out always triggered way more questions.
“Dedra,” I snapped. “Just … her. I’ve never met Bill or Tig. And, before you ask, other two don’t interest me in the least.” I hadn’t screwed another male, wolf or not, since we’d met. But Jorgen didn’t need to know that.
Jorgen stilled, thoughtfully. “But you don’t date female wolves.”
“Right.”
He frowned. “She’s an exception?”
“She was.” I shifted uncomfortably, caught myself doing it and snarled under my breath. “The only exception.”
He was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, turning toward the passenger door of the SUV.
“Is that it?” I asked caustically. “I don’t want to revisit this conversation.”
“It’s none of my business who you sleep with, Kandy,” he said evenly. “Or who you’ve slept with. That is clear to me.”
“You make me sound like a complete shit.”
He laughed. The sound brief and sharply edged. “I’m not an idiot. I knew your no-female-werewolves rule had to based on someone, some bad experience. I’ve certainly enjoyed the other females you’ve invited to join us.”
That hadn’t happened in a couple of years. And never in Vancouver. Because it turned out that I didn’t much enjoy sharing Jorgen — whether the female joining us was a werewolf or not — so I kept my other trysts — mostly with witches or non-wolf shifters — away from our fairly regular sexual liaisons. Not that I’d mentioned the reasoning behind the sudden lack of extra sexual partners to him. To myself, I’d blamed it on the weird alpha position I’d somehow created with my pack of misfit Adepts here in Vancouver, and the whole stupid role model thing. But I didn’t welcome that possessive — on my part — shift in Jorgen’s and my dynamic. Or I hadn’t.
Because I’d only ever considered being monogamous to one lover. Dedra. And seeing her again was making me antsy, pushing me outside of my hard-won comfort zone.
And apparently making me even more possessive.
I closed the space between us, grabbing Jorgen and pinning him against the side of the SUV. Careful as always to mitigate the extra strength the cuffs gave me. Though unless I was upset that was natural for me now. And, seeing as I was apparently stuck in bald honesty mode, I was actually more upset than I preferred to admit. Thankfully, the concrete pillar I’d deliberately parked next to partially shield us from view, because I wasn’t interested in sharing any more of myself than I already had.
Jorgen instantly threaded his fingers through my hair, slouching against the vehicle to even up our heights as he met me halfway. Lips and teeth and tongues clashing. His light stubble was scratchy against my skin. His skin warm in contrast to the chilly afternoon, and his grip firm.
When Jorgen touched me, there was never any hesitation, no averted eyes or questions.
I adored that about him.
Not at all satisfied with a simple, though fierce, lip lock, I reached between us, stroking Jorgen through his pants. He hardened against my hand, groaning into my mouth.
He pushed my hand away and grabbed my ass, lifting me up and grinding my core against his own.
I moaned, darting my tongue into his mouth as I twined one leg around his to give him better access.
He pulled back slightly, reaching for the buttons of my suit jacket. Good. I desperately wanted his hands on my skin.
“Do you need to come?” he asked, murmuring against my neck between kisses and sucks.
I had always been better at communicating without words — fighting or fucking. And I most definitely wanted Jorgen’s lips, his mouth, and his fingers in different places. Right now. But that wouldn’t be enough.
After all, I hadn’t maintained a relationship with a male werewolf for over six years for what his mouth and fingers were capable of doing.
Despite the desire pooling between my thighs, I was keenly aware that the East Coast werewolves might be keeping tabs on us, just out of my range to scent them. I would if I was in their territory.
“Not here,” I said. “I want you in my bed.”
He swore in Norwegian. Then growled.
Corralling myself, I pushed him away, stepping back and tugging down my suit jacket. My lips felt bruised, nipples uncomfortably tight, chest heaving.
He eyed me smugly.
“I’ll drive,” I snapped.
“I never thought any different.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He grinned, straightening. Then he raised his hand, long, dexterous fingers reaching for me deliberately slowly.
I held my ground.
He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. It was just long enough to stay there. “I’ve missed you, love.”
I tamped down on the impulse to say the same, not including the endearment. But it was true. My bed was woefully empty when I was in Vancouver.
He smirked knowingly. “And not just the fucking.”
I curled my lip at him, turning on my heel and marching around the SUV to climb into the driver’s seat.
Jorgen climbed into the passenger seat without another word, angling his seat back and settling a gentle gaze on me as I started the vehicle, pulled out of the parking spot, and headed for the exit.
Gentle was an odd way to describe the way Jorgen looked at me sometimes. But it wasn’t compassion I read in him, and it wasn’t a knowing look or even just acceptance. It was contentment.
I was exceedingly aware that was an emotion, a state of being, that I wasn’t capable of achieving.
“How long do I have you to myself?” I asked gruffly, without looking at him as I slowed to line up at the prepaid pay station.
“Is Desmond in town yet?”
“He arrived a couple of hours ago. With Audrey.” I sneered my beta’s name. I was tense, more so than usual. I should have taken Jorgen up on the parking lot orgasm.
Jorgen chuckled quietly. “Is it thanks to her arrival that I have a ride from the airport?”
I rolled down my window and shoved my prepaid ticket in the reader. The gate lifted. “She is utterly insufferable.” I drove through the gate, pressing on the gas to merge into the main road. “Rolled in like thunder demanding to be updated on all the wedding prep, even though she’s been cc’d on every effing email.”
“She’s in favor of the wedding?” He sounded surprised.
“She is beta of a mix pack,” I said. “Though it’s also possible she’s overcompensating.”
Jorgen hummed thoughtfully. “Not surprising.”
I glanced at him. “We aren’t all driven by our childhoods, you know. Audrey chose to join us, to vie to be beta. A move that put her on the other side of the country from the rest of the Rothchilds.”
A smile quirked his lips. “Are you defending Audrey or backing your beta?”
I curled my lip in an unvoiced snarl.
His own smile widened, then he deliberately closed his eyes, settling his head back. Once again effortlessly easing the tension that had been building — for me — again. Jorgen was the second born to his pack alpha. His elder brother was in position to inherit. The European packs did things differently than the American, with much less fighting and killing to gain position. More focus on creating a satisfying way of life for their members, if not completely equitable. Females were ranked at the bottom of pack — based on their gender not prowess or intellect — or they took their ranking from their mates. Nonbinary wolves, unless also tied to a higher ranking shifter, were treated as submissive — unranked — even if they were dominant enough to rank much higher.
Jorgen could choose to be beta of his pack when his brother ascended, but he had other skills that made him more valuable to shapeshifters as a whole. Skills that made his position with the shapeshifter Assembly just a stepping stone even though he wasn’t yet thirty. Those skills were the reason Desmond asked him to arbitrate the Yukon grizzlies’ pack status application.
Those same skills translated into Jorgen’s ability to manage me without difficulty, with that gentleness that could be coaxed into fierceness when I desired it.
The sad thing was? I apparently didn’t mind being managed. By him. For short periods, at least.
I changed lanes, swooping up the overpass and onto the bridge, heading out of Richmond and into Vancouver.
“I’ll need to meet with Desmond,” Jorgen said quietly, picking up the conversation as if we hadn’t paused. “And Pearl before our first official session tomorrow morning.”
“Can you talk to Desmond in front of me? And maybe Audrey?”
“Yes.”
“Dinner then. I’ll order in. Indian?”
“Perfect.”
“You’ve got about twenty minutes to nap while I drive, then you’ll need to climb a set of stairs.”
“And after that? You’ll just move me where you want me?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
He laughed quietly. “No. I just like talking with you.”
I huffed.
Plans confirmed, I let him sleep, exceeding the speed limit as much as traffic would allow as I sped us toward the city.
– Misfits 2, Chapter 2, Part 1 – first draft
Are you new to the Adept Universe? Click here for the suggested reading order where you can download a PDF that includes all the shorter stories (and where to find them).
Kandy’s three prequel shorts can be found in
Moments of the Adept Universe 1
