“Oh, my fucking gods!” The combination of sensations - Lamont inside him, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, his hand wrapped around Ewen’s cock, the bond singing between them - pushed Ewen over the edge. His orgasm crashed through him, and his fox surged forward.
Lamont leaned down, offering his neck, and Ewen’s teeth found the juncture of neck and shoulder, taking care not to disturb the gem encrusted necklace already there. He bit down hard, tasting copper and the magic that embodied his mate. It was as if their bond exploded into brilliant gold light, causing stars behind Ewen’s eyes.
Lamont made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, hips stuttering as he found his own release, and then…
Ewen felt the pinch of teeth as they sank into his neck.He claimed me, too.Ewen hadn’t been sure that Lamont would do that - his mate had never mentioned doing it, and Lamont already wore the collar/necklace signifying Ewen’s claim on him. But Ewen’s fox didn’t care if it was right, wrong, or just something Lamont wanted to do in that moment. He threw back his head and howled in triumph.
The dual claiming snapped into place with an almost audible click, and Ewen felt Lamont’s presence flood through him - the fierce protectiveness of a hellhound, and underneath it all, a love so vast and certain it stole Ewen’s breath.
Mine, Lamont’s hound rumbled through their bond.Ours. Always.
Yours, Ewen’s fox agreed, curling up content in the back of Ewen’s mind.Always yours.
/~/~/~/~/
Lamont traced idle patterns across Ewen’s shoulder, careful not to wake him. The dual claiming had been unexpected - he’d acted on pure instinct, driven by his hound’s need to mark the person who belonged to them. Most hellhounds only wore the collar, but Lamont expected Ewen to bite him - that was the shifter way.
But somewhere along the way, Lamont had remembered something his packmate Beau had mentioned doing with his shifter mate - biting him in return. That wasn’t something hellhounds did as a rule, but Lamont was keen to see Ewen wearing his bite scar to match the one he had.Two bites, he mentally chuckled.Beau was right. The bond he had with Ewen felt deeper somehow.
That same bond thrummed between them, carrying Ewen’s emotions even in sleep. He was content. Lamont could feel the love between them, but above all, Ewen felt safe. Lamont’s chest tightened. He’d protect that feeling with everything he had.
His thoughts drifted to the scattered papers in his office - the evidence of corruption that had nearly cost Ewen his life. Forty-three soldiers dead, maybe more. Cortesi was murdered for asking questions. Ewen’s Cairo contact was killed by a car bomb. And his mate, locked in a basement for ten days while Lamont was busy elsewhere.
The Arcturus Group has to be responsible. At least, the money trail suggested that was the case. But Lamont already knew exposing them would be dangerous. Louise’s phone call earlier proved someone had gotten to The New York Times, convinced them to scrub Ewen from their records, and spread lies about a sabbatical. Whatever pressure they’d applied would likely work on other American outlets, too.
Lamont mentally ran through the international options he’d mentioned to Ewen earlier. Der Spiegel had a solid investigative team, but would they run a story about American defense contracts? The Guardian might, especially with their history of publishing whistleblower documents. Le Monde had the credibility, and French outlets loved exposing American corruption.
But the whole process had to be airtight. Ewen’s documentation was meticulous - field reports, maintenance logs, financial records, and signed affidavits from three former Hardline employees. The problem was the lack of witnesses. Two were already dead, and the other employees could be silenced or discredited before publication.It would devastate Ewen if anyone else dies over this.
In theory, they would need to move fast. They would need to coordinate simultaneous releases across multiple outlets, the story couldn’t be buried. If the FBI and any other authorities were notified at the same time as the articles went live…before anyone has time to interfere.
Of course, Lamont’s biggest concern was keeping Ewen safe through everything. His hound stirred restlessly at the very idea that Ewen might be in danger again. Lamont knew his pack would help if he called - they’d proven that when Giorgio’s mate needed protection. Lord Hades might even intervene if Lamont asked, although he wasn’t as confident about that. Lord Hades was not allowed to interfere in mortal affairs…although neither am I.
That sent Lamont off on another mental tangent about articles he’d written in the past. He figured none of his cases qualified as interference, since they, like Ewen’s current one, involved corporations and business wrongdoing rather than individual people.
Ewen shifted in his sleep, burrowing closer. One hand curled against Lamont’s chest, right over his heart. The trust implicit in that gesture made Lamont’s throat tight. His mate had been alone for so long, fighting his own battles, protecting his sources with nothing but his wit and determination. He didn’t have any family to call or a pack to watch his back. It was just Ewen against the world.
Not anymore.
Pressing a kiss to Ewen’s dark hair, Lamont breathed in the scent of his mate - mostly the evidence of their lovemaking, but underneath it all that special scent that was uniquely fox.
Tomorrow,Lamont decided. They would figure out a strategy tomorrow. Work out who to contact, how to coordinate the release, and above all, make a plan to ensure that the evidence came to light in such a way that it could not be suppressed.
For now, Lamont needed to sleep, confident that his hound would watch over them both.
Chapter Seventeen
“This section here.” Lamont tapped the laptop screen where Ewen’s article described the substituted armor specifications. “You’re citing facts, which is good, but you need to hook the reader first. Make them care about the soldiers before you bury them in technical details.”
Ewen leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. A week had passed since their claiming, and he’d spent most of it hunched over the keyboard in Lamont’s office. The article had consumed him - all the rage and grief he’d bottled up during his captivity pouring onto the page.
“More emotive language,” Ewen repeated, pulling his glasses off to clean them. “Right. Because nothing says, ‘serious journalism’ like emotional manipulation.”
“It’s not manipulation if it’s true.” Lamont settled onto the edge of the desk, close enough that his knee brushed Ewen’s shoulder. The casual contact sent warmth through their bond. “Sergeant Cortesi died because Hardline wanted to save a few thousand dollars per vehicle. That’s not just a statistic - that’s a tragedy. Make the reader feel it.”
Ewen glanced up at his mate. Lamont had pulled his long hair back that morning, the leather cord emphasizing the strong line of his jaw. The claiming bite on his neck was visible above his collar, and Ewen’s fox preened every time he saw it.
“You’ve published in what, a dozen major outlets?” Ewen asked. “Guardian, Times of London, Le Monde...”