Hateful Desire

by Marianne Willis

  Several tools lay around a half-built construction at the far end. Chayton spoke with a few workers, pointing in different directions at the structure. She couldn’t hear him from this distance, but he was a man in charge. No wonder he aimed to lead his pack. His demeanour screamed authority.

  “This way,” Ian added when she paused.

  She followed him into a simple office with a square desk beneath a large window. So, this was Chayton’s workplace? It didn’t seem right. Perhaps some colour was required on the plain white walls, or a fish tank rather than the plastic plant in the corner. She didn’t know him well enough to distinguish what suited, but gut instinct told her the plain-as-day appearance detracted from his true nature.

  “Sorry about the whole fiancée thing.” Ian took a seat behind the desk. “I figured she’d comprehend that rather than the bonding marks of werewolves.”

  Amber snickered. “That’s understandable. I, ah, didn’t realise you worked here.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, ever since this place opened. I’ve known Chayton a long time. When he first told me about the gym, I jumped at the chance to be his business partner.” He waved, gesturing the opposite chair.

  “Will you be competing for leader?” She placed her purse under the chair and sat.

  His smile faded, losing some of the brightness in his animated face. “No.” He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d be honoured. It’s just, I’m happy to follow the leader. So, did you have to quit your job to relocate here in Qualla?”

  “No. In fact, I’m a freelance photographer. I sell pictures.”

  “Sell them to whom? Galleries?”

  “Mostly royalty-free websites. Whatever I can get my hands on.”

  The door opened, and she twisted. Gwen sauntered over, dropping a folder on the desk.

  “Thanks, Gwen,” he said.

  The secretary gave her a cold stare and exited the office.

  Amber glimpsed over her shoulder to make sure she had gone. “Does she have a problem with me?”

  He blinked. “Who? Gwen? Maybe.” He chuckled. “Considering she has a thing for Chhh…chocolate.” He scanned the folder in front of him as though the most interesting thing captured his attention.

  “Chocolate?” she mocked.

  “Oh, shit,” he sighed.

  Just her luck, destiny partnered her with a guy in a relationship. “What’s going on between them?”

  He shot her a pleading look like a little boy who didn’t want to attend school. “Don’t throw me in the middle of this.”

  “Answer me.” Secrets and lies were not part of the deal. If Chayton thought for one minute he could have her and another woman on the side, he could think again.

  “They had a fling years ago, but it’s way over.”

  She clenched her teeth. “Excuse me?”

  “Waaaaaaay,” he whispered, eyes wide, and waving his hand to exaggerate his point.

  “He has affairs with his employees, very professional.”

  “No, their relationship happened before she worked here. I think Gwen’s pursued more, but he’s kept it strictly business between them. In fact, since he’s found you, he’s even cut off the other women.”

  “Other women? How many are we talking here?”

  “Okay.” He flattened his hands on the desk. “I’ve said too much.”

  “Tell me, Ian.”

  “Nah-ah. I ain’t getting my ass kicked for dropping my mouth. This subject is closed. I suggest you take your mind off it. Why don’t you sketch something?” He snatched a notepad, and dropped it in front of her.

  “I take photos,” she said dryly.

  “Yeah, that.” He shuffled documents into a file, cheeks colouring. “Go home and do that.”

  The door clapped in its frame. “What’s going on?” This time it was Chayton.

  “Your woman’s here to see you.” Ian stood, rearranged the folder, and rushed out.

  Chayton closed the door behind him, and leaned into the hollow wood. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came by to drop off the sandwiches you forgot.”

  Dark brows furrowed, he stalked to his desk. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to.”

  “How many women are you seeing?” She shot out of the seat, wanting to see the truth in his eyes.

  “What?” He paused from opening the metal drawer.

  “Before you found out about me, how many were in your life?”

  “Two.”

  Ouch. Why did that hurt? She tilted her chin. “Were any of them serious?”

  “No, it was casual.” He rummaged through the drawer and groaned, unable to find what he hunted.

  “Are you lying?” A voice in her head told her to shut up, but she couldn’t help herself. Jealousy sliced her insides like a meat cleaver.

  He slammed the drawer shut, and scowled. “I don’t have time for this, Amber.”

  Hands flat on the desk, she stopped herself from clawing at the wood. “Are you still seeing any of them?”

  “What did Ian say to you?” he insisted.

  A groan strained her throat. “I want to know if you still have these relationships.”

  “No,” he shouted. “And don’t give me that look, considering the amount of guys you’ve been with. Maybe I should have you tested before we take this further.”

  She staggered, and gaped. “How dare you.”

  He shut his eyes, strumming his fingers over the desk. “I didn’t mean that. I just—”

  “Yes, you did,” she cut him off. “You just love throwing the past in my face.”

  His jaw flexed. “We both have a past. And we both have to work on the future. I’ve cut all ties with the other women the moment I discovered I was stuck with you, so back off my case.”

  “Stuck with me?” she rasped. “You chose this. You could be a follower like Ian, but big, muscley Chayton has to lead,” she mocked while shaking her fingers in the air, then fisted them by her sides. “Dammit, Chayton,” she shouted. “When am I going to be good enough for you?”

  Yellow flashed in his irises, and she could have sworn he was seconds from shifting. “Easy, never.”

  She swallowed the stir of mixed emotions. Afraid he’d still be able to read her anger, or worse, her sadness, she snatched her purse and fled the office.

  ****

  At the empty dinner table, Amber ate leftover steak with the salad she made. She shifted her gaze to the microwave. Nine-thirty. Chayton hadn’t given an exact time to when he’d be home. But with each minute that ticked by, she wondered if he’d even bother returning.

  She sipped the last bit of red wine, and continued her meal. Low footfalls padded close by, and she paused from taking a bite. With gentle care, she set down her fork, still keeping the steak knife in a secure grip. The wooden legs of the chair screeched along the floor when she rose. She cringed, and held her breath.

  The footsteps echoed in the next room. Something wasn’t right. The heavy slapping did not sound like shoes, but raw meat being thrown against a wall. Who the hell was here? With anger fuelling her adrenaline, she marched into the living area, ready for a confrontation. A dark figure passed the corner of her eye and she whirled, only to be consumed by complete immobilisation.

  Words of warning alarmed her mind as the black beast strolled past the fireplace, sniffing the air. “Oh, shit,” she breathed.

  Yellow eyes narrowed, not threatening, but she could have sworn it observed her with total possession. She whimpered, and backed up a few slow steps. The beast lunged over the sofa and blocked her way. Her hands extended out in front of her, but the action of surrender failed with a weapon clasped in one grip. The wolf spied the steak knife, its mouth curled above elongated canines and growled.

  “Drop the knife.”

  She staggered at the commanding voice inside her mind, smacked the sofa and slid to the floor. The knife clattered out of reach.

  “Relax.” The wolf rushed forward, its legs positioned over hers, tra
pping her, and leaving no room for escape. It leaned in, inches before her face. “It’s just me.”

  “Chayton!” Yes, she recognised him from her dreams. Her wolf, Darkness. Although, he appeared much larger in real life.

  The black mass of fur slumped. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It was wrong. I became angry by your little outburst and retaliated. You must know all my relationships were never serious because I knew one day I’d be with my mate, with you.”

  She pondered his words for a moment. What he’d said hurt. He should be lucky she hadn’t packed her things and left. The main reason she hadn’t was because only he could grant back her power. Amber raised a brow, considering the promise she made. So, maybe her witchcraft wasn’t the only thing keeping her here.

  “It’s time,” he added. “We must go.”

  “Time for what? Go where?”

  “The bite. We must go to the campfire.”

  Silence stretched between them. If she were strapped to a heart-monitor right now, the electronic device would explode. “Do I look insane?”

  “Calm down, I won’t be in wolf form.” He spun and headed for the door.

  “Wait!”

  Muzzle at the edge of the wooden frame, he paused and turned.

  “What makes you think I’d complete this bond after this morning?” Yes, he apologised, but could she forgive him?

  “The other night in my truck, what you said was true. You have the right to make a choice.”

  And that choice was hers. She could take this a step further or retreat right now. A strong part of her craved to see where this led, needed to discover why fate chose them. She rose, and without another word followed him out of the cottage.

  The sky was a sheet of navy blue sprayed with tiny crystals, and the silhouette of tall trees sashayed below. Mesmerised, she paused at the full moon and how the round orb seemed so close.

  “Come on,” he said in her mind, and loped along the dirt driveway, into the forest.

  “The full moon, is that why you’re in wolf form?” Maybe that had been the reason his irises flashed yellow today.

  “No. Werewolves can alter at will.”

  She swatted at the leaves and trudged forth. “Where are we going?” Once she asked the question, they entered a clearing, one she recognised. Her gaze roamed the bed of grass leading to the slight hilltop ahead, the same location as her dreams. All this time, this place was real, right behind his house. She ran to catch up, but stopped after recalling her previous visit here.

  He wheeled around. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you remember the last dream we shared? When you approached me?”

  He thrust his muzzle in the air. “That was the same night you placed me under the Keeper Spell. I had a dream of following my mate into the meadow, but then I found you instead.”

  “And started choking me,” she added wryly.

  He skittered forward, eyes blazing. “You placed me under a spell. I didn’t know why you entered my dream and I retaliated.”

  “You do that a lot, retaliate.” She still refused to take a step forward.

  “Amber.” He lowered his head, muzzle in the grass. “Don’t be afraid.”

  But she was, not of Chayton…of her eagerness to reach the hilltop. Something big was about to happen, she sensed the change in the air. It sent a chill down her spine. Urging her feet into motion, she followed him to the top. A campfire was lit, sitting on a pile of logs. “Did you do this in wolf form, too?” she teased, unable to hide her smirk at the idea of Darkness lighting a match.

  “Funny,” he said, sounding far from amused.

  He stopped in front of an ivory rug laid over the grass. His legs and arms stretched out. His thick mane receded, black to grey until the fur faded into skin. Naked, he rose from the crouched position. He was beautiful, with broad shoulders and biceps that defined his strength. His chiselled chest and washboard abs not only appeared masculine, but deliciously tempting. Thighs knotted with muscle, and between his legs stood one impressive erection. Thick, long and…oh crap, she stared. She reeled around, panting. Her focus centred on the dark forest.

  “Look at me.”

  Hesitant, the tip of her shoe brushed the soft grass. Her cheeks scorched when she faced him. A good thing it was night.

  His gaze roved her body, tongue running over his bottom lip. “Undress.”

  She glared. Did he jest?

  “This is part of it,” he insisted.

  Her shaky hands captured the straps of her dress, but too enthralled by the intensity in his face, she kept them there a minute. His pupils widened, hands fisted by his sides in anticipation, or perhaps impatience. She inhaled deep, in hopes her nerves would calm. The soft cotton slipped past her breasts, her stomach and legs. At first his dark eyes didn’t stray, then descended with slow measure toward the fabric now pooled at her feet.

  “All of it,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

  She gathered her hair, shifting the tresses over her shoulder. Unhooking the simple bra, warm air brushed her nipples when the undergarment dropped to the ground. Fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear, she swallowed, and slid them off.

  He stilled. The dark shade in his eyes could not be mistaken for anything other than lust, and maybe even a hint of admiration. Under his blatant gaze, her heart hammered hard in her ribcage. She considered covering her nudity, but lost the thought when he closed the remaining space between.

  “You have to tell me where to bite you.”

  “What? Shouldn’t you know?” she asked, not recognising the low pitch in her voice.

  “This is how it works...” He began circling her. “I wander my mouth down your body, and you’ll feel the spot where I’ll mark you as mine.” He stopped when faced with her. “Are you ready?”

  To have his mouth all over her? She swallowed. “Yes.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful. Especially like this, naked under the moonlight.”

  Lowering to his knees, he parted his mouth over her right ankle.

  Shivers raked her body, but he continued a slow journey past her pubic bone and stomach. Soft lips, hot breath, the sensation was too much to handle. Dizziness transformed her head into a featherweight.

  “Anything?” He paused above her belly button.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He continued, and this time she sucked in a breath when he abraded her nipple. She clung to his shoulders for support, legs squeezed to fight the heady response. As if unable to help himself, he placed a light kiss on the puckered tip. She moaned, and he eased her hands by her sides.

  “Relax, Amber. We’re just getting started.”

  He trailed to the right side of her body, past her shoulder and lower. A twitch at her ribcage made her gasp.

  “Go back a little,” she said.

  He shifted a fraction.

  The twitch pulsated. “There, that’s the spot.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lie down for me then.”

  She did, stretching out on the rug, and staring at the naked man knelt beside her. He tucked another strand behind her ear. “This will hurt, but I’ll heal it.”

  Her body trembled when his head lowered. Firm lips encased her torso, kissing the spot he was to mark. She shut her eyes, and failed to remember anyone stirring her desire the way he did. She wanted him so bad. Moreover, she hungered for his teeth to sink inside her, to mark her.

  Piercing heat stabbed her skin at his bite. She cried out, her eyes sprang open from burning pain. His teeth eased out of her body to be replaced with the slow lick of his tongue. The sting lessened as his saliva healed the wound.

  Warmth spread, starting at the mark and reaching out to every corner of her body. She never imagined feeling so complete. Did every mate experience this bliss, or was she an exception?

  He scooped her into his arms and rose from the ground.

  “Is the ritu
al complete?”

  “Not quite.” He proceeded in the direction of the cottage. “We have to finish this in bed.”

  Chapter 11

  Chayton carried her into the house, straight to their bedroom. The strangest sensation overcame him the moment he’d bitten her, power, protection, longing, and even a sliver of something akin to love.

  Each reaction had struck with full strength for a brief instant, as though branding somewhere deep inside.

  He settled her in the centre of the mattress. A red-hot flame of need exploded within. The sight of her under the moonlight had enticed him, but now the golden glow of the bedroom lamp illuminated her thighs, rounded hips, and the tempting pair of rosebud nipples. She was downright edible.

  Her cheeks shaded with a peach hue at the sight of his erection. “This is really happening,” she murmured.

  Damn right it was. “Do you know what the ritual stands for?”

  Her brow puckered, and he guessed the question threw her.

  “The completion of our bond?”

  “Yes. By marking you, I’ve united us, not just in the physical sense…” He knelt beside the bed. “But a spiritual one.”

  Her throat bobbed. “Are we…married?”

  “Usually for werewolves it’s much stronger.” The in-depth connection most mated couples form strengthened a bond. To achieve it, he must devote extra time to Amber, share things with her he wouldn’t another, and above all make love to her on the night of the full moon. “But, yes, we are married.”

  Realisation suddenly dawned. How could he follow these simple bonding traits when deep down he wasn’t sure how he felt? Could he trust and share things with her, build a solid relationship…when her mere presence triggered the horrible past?

  He stood from his kneeling position to lie alongside her. The bite beneath her breast was red, but no longer bleeding. He ran a gentle finger over the mark. “It may not be a gold band, but still represents the same meaning. We took a vow tonight, Amber…what are you thinking?” he asked when she shut her eyes.

  “I just never pictured myself married in my birthday suit.” Her voice softened with humour, but there was a slight trace of disappointment.