He grunted as her hand curled around his cock and began to pump. Her mouth was desperate, hot, and seeking—he knew what she was looking for from him: to forget. If that was what she wanted, he’d give it to her.

Derren rolled her onto her back. “Shush. You’re not there anymore. The dark doesn’t have you now.” He slipped a hand under her ass and tilted her hips. “I do.” He thrust hard and deep, groaning as her pussy clamped around him. So fucking good. Her legs wrapped around his hips and her claws dug into his back as he plunged in and out of her. Her hard nipples stabbed into his chest, making him remember just how sweet they tasted.

“Harder,” she rasped, her eyes glazed with lust.

“I’ll give you what you need. I’ll always give you what you need.” His pace furious, he fucked her into the mattress. The headboard slammed against the wall but he didn’t give a shit. If this was what she needed, she’d have it. Her pussy began to flutter around his cock. “Ready to come for me?” He slipped a hand between their bodies and strummed his fingers over her clit.

She bit him. Reared up and bit him right on the shoulder as her pussy clenched and milked his cock.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled, slamming home one last time as he emptied himself inside her. Panting and shaking, he stared down at her—shocked and gratified that she’d marked him. A dreamy smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and then she fell asleep. Derren wondered if she’d even been truly awake to begin with. He snickered. “Little minx.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Grief was such a complicated package of emotions. Anger, hopelessness, disbelief, regret, fear, guilt, loneliness—it all flowed from the people around Ally and battered at her, giving her a sharp, pounding headache.

Watching as the coffins were lowered into the ground, she stood beside Derren while Nick and Roni flanked them. Despite the dangers that came with leaving pack territory, Nick and Roni had both been adamant that they would be present at the funeral with Derren. Apparently, they were the only two people in the pack other than Ally who knew everything that had happened to him. Bracken and Marcus had also come along, but remained outside the border of the territory. In case Nick’s SUV was targeted, he’d ordered the enforcers to follow in a separate vehicle. It was a good thing, since Marcus had refused to let Roni leave pack territory without him anyway.

Shocked, nervous, and fearful, Derren’s old Alphas had tried turning him away when he appeared on their territory. But when Nick had pointed out that he could—and absolutely would—make life difficult for them if they didn’t grant Derren the simple right to be present at his own parents’ funeral, the Alphas had folded. Nobody with a brain wanted Nick Axton as an enemy.

Since they had arrived, Derren had avoided touching Ally, as if worried that his emotions would bleed into her and increase the pain she was already feeling. While she was grateful, she also wanted to touch him and soothe him—especially since his old pack was behaving atrociously.

The adults kept their pups shielded, hiding Derren from their view . . . like he was a sick predator, and the mere sight of him would traumatize the kids. Their suspiciousness, disgust, and fear felt like acid on her tongue. It was pathetic, unfair, and maddening.

There was only one adult who had made proper eye contact with Derren: a petite female with eyes and hair as dark as his. Ally guessed it was his sister. Whenever her mate caught her casting glances at Derren, the guy would nudge her with his elbow; she would then instantly lower her gaze. No, Ally didn’t like him at all.

She didn’t like any of them, and she didn’t like them being near Derren. He’d been through enough. Had been unjustly punished for something he hadn’t done, had spent most of his youth in juvie, and had suffered greatly in that fucked-up place. And these people—who had let down a fourteen-year-old boy so badly, who could have prevented all of it if they had just been willing to listen to his account—thought it was okay to treat him this way? Nu-uh.

Her heart had ached for him the night before when she’d seen just how shocked he was that she believed he was innocent. The extent of the damage and pain his old pack’s betrayal had caused him had become extremely clear to her. Even if she didn’t know him well enough to know he wasn’t capable of harming a female that way, she only had to consider that Derren wasn’t a guy who made excuses for himself. Like Ally, he believed in owning his shit, in taking responsibility for his actions.

If he said he didn’t do it, she believed him.

As the service ended, the crowd began to disperse. The grievers all gave Derren plenty of space as they passed—their eyes wide with fright and their mouths flat with distaste. A growl seeped out of Ally before she could stop it, making a few of them jump. Ha.

“It’s okay,” Derren told her, his voice low.

Ally looked at him. “No, actually, it’s not.”

Okay, no, it wasn’t. Derren loathed that he’d been branded a rapist—a creature that should be fucking killed on sight. Roni had almost been raped as a teenager, and the shifters here had lumped Derren in the same category as the fuckers who had attacked her. But he refused to get worked up about it right now; he had enough shit going on in his head. “Had you expected anything different?” He hadn’t.

“I’d hoped that maybe they’d developed a bit of sense at some point in the last decade and a half.”

Derren forced himself to resist the urge to touch her, not wanting to worsen her pain. “To admit that they were wrong, even to admit it to themselves, would mean accepting they’re exactly what you called them on the way here this morning—‘ignorant, easily led, thoughtless bastards.’ No one would want that title.” She just humphed, which pulled a weak smile from him. “Snippier than usual this morning, aren’t you?”