“He’s not contagious. Not anymore.”
“I’m not worried about that,” she said. “I failed Lionel. I hardly knew him. I thought I did. He never spoke about his time in the military. He never spoke about anything, really. When did this happen? How could he hide himself from me?”
Solenne left the woman to do her work. If she found any peace or forgiveness in her heart for Chambers, it was her own business.
Among the wedding guests, most injuries were cuts and bruises obtained in the panic to flee the room. The occasional person had a twisted ankle or knee, but nothing serious. Jase has not done significant injury to his leg. The only serious injury had been Godwin. When Drs. Webb and Sheldon declared him stable, they moved him upstairs into a bedroom. Solenne reluctantly allowed Dr. Webb to clean the claw marks where Chambers took a swipe at her. They seemed inconsequential to her father.
Eventually Alek took her by the hand. “You’re exhausted.”
“There’s too much to do.”
“You can’t help anyone when you’re ready to fall over. You need a bath and sleep,” he said, his take-charge tone soothing her in a way she did not know she needed.
Bath and sleep sounded so good.
“I’m afraid I don’t have an available room for you,” Charlotte said, joining them. She looked equally exhausted, yet her eyes shone. This was her element. “I’m afraid we can’t move your father. He has to stay for the time being. I imagine Miles will need to stay where he is?” She paused, waiting for Alek’s response.
“Until he calms down,” Alek said.
“Go home, get some rest and come back tomorrow,” she said.
“I’ll burn the villain tomorrow.”
Solenne thought Charlotte might protest, that Chambers might be a villain, but he was still her husband and deserved a funeral service, but she only nodded.
“Tomorrow or the day after, I’ll write to Snowmelt and tell them of the delay,” Alek said. Everyone had to make compromises at the moment, such as they would not journey to Snowmelt in a few days. Solenne couldn’t leave with her father injured. She felt gladdened that Alek instinctively understood this.
The return to Marechal House took no time at all. They stripped off their ruined finery and took turns scrubbing each other in the bath. Alek seemed…restless.
“You know, the original colonists had an endless supply of hot water on demand.”
“Impossible,” he replied, voice flat like he paid the conversation the minimal amount of attention.
“True. They bathed in stalls called showers where the water came in over their heads, but through an aerated sprinkler, not a bucket being dumped over their heads.”
He huffed. “Sounds convenient.”
“I agree.” Waiting for the water to heat, filling the tub, and then splashing around took a considerable amount of time, especially when she just wanted to be clean enough to get to bed with her husband.
Her fingers brushed against the angry red bite on his shoulder. “That will never heal, will it?”
“It hasn’t in eight years. It doesn’t always look so—”
“Fresh?”
“A reflection of the cycle, nothing more. It doesn’t hurt,” he said.
She continued to scrub his shoulders and back, eventually moving to his front. Her hands strayed a bit far below his waist. Alek raised a brow. To say she eagerly anticipated the night was an understatement. Perhaps a more refined lady would be exhausted or too distraught to think of skin and kissing and every pleasure a man shared with a woman, but it was all she wanted. The events of the Double Werewolf Wedding—no, she would not call it that!—left her feeling tightly wound and in need of a release.
Alek, too, from the feel of him.
He leaned his head back and groaned at her touch. Before she could continue on, he placed a hand over hers, halting her. “Upstairs. You need sleep.”
“That’s not what I need, Aleksandar.”
“Solenne, do not tempt me.”
She pulled back, stung at his rejection. In the last few weeks, he had been insatiable, demanding touches and her attention. Now he acted cold and disinterested.
The thread between them? Silent.
Hastily, she reached for a robe. By this time, she had been nude before Alek several times, and he never made her feel anything less than desirable. Now she felt vulnerable and exposed. Naked in an entirely unwelcome manner.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, tying the belt.
“Do not concern yourself.”
“Blast it, Aleksandar.” Frustrated, she threw a towel at him. He caught it with ease. “I know something is wrong, so tell me.”
His eyes were cold. “It will upset you. Too many things happened today. Things you should not have seen. After today—”
“You’re leaving without me,” she said, ready to fall over at the words. All day she swung from nervousness, anticipation, then fear, then determination. Every moment fueled by adrenaline. There had to be a breaking point where her body couldn’t keep up, no matter how her spirit drove her forward.
Her knees threatened to give out, and her stomach wanted to empty itself. She stumbled back against the wall. “You self-sacrificing bastard. You do not get to leave in some ridiculous notion to protect me! If you try, I’ll stab you in the eye with a butter knife.”
He surged out of the water, pressing his wet and very hard form against hers. “Solenne, be quiet a moment.”
“So help me, I’ll find the dullest and rustiest butter knife.”
He kissed her, fierce and all-consuming. The connection flared back to life and she could feel his pulse thrumming. It whispered that he was here, here, here. She belonged to him and she couldn’t make him leave with the rustiest butter knife in the world.
“Oh,” she said.
His fingers dug into her wet hair, pulling to force her gaze to his. His eyes glowed with an intense violet light.
“I want nothing more in this life than to keep you safe,” he said. “And you damn Marechals are so determined to throw yourself in front of every ravening beast you find. I thought I would lose you and it frightened me more than anything.”
“Oh,” she said. Anything else seemed unnecessary.
“So yes, I closed myself to the bond. I didn’t want my fear frightening you. He had you, Solenne, in his paws, and I was too far away to do anything.” He closed his eyes, as if reliving that moment. “I failed to protect you.”
“You saved Miles and Papa. That’s hardly a failure.”
He opened his eyes and searched her face for what she did not know. Whatever he found, he nodded as if satisfied. “I will never leave you. Never. I will be your shadow because I can’t trust you to not run headfirst into the maw of a beast.”
“I hardly did that,” she protested. Well, she did do that. Technically.
“And on Boxon Hill? And the night of the full moon? Every time, I arrived too late to prevent you from some foolhardy act of heroism. Since I can’t trust you to have enough common sense to save yourself, I’ll do it for you.” Another crushing kiss, this one erasing her protests.
He growled, low in his throat, and her core clenched in response. “Now, wife, get in bed.”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“We will not sleep.”
The beast would have his mate.
She was happy to oblige.
Chapter 26
Aleksandar
Boxon Hill
Marechal House - Mr. and Mrs. Hardwick’s Bedroom
* * *
The door slammed shut with a resounding thud.
“Nice room,” he said, not taking his eyes off Solenne.
“Specially prepared for us.”
A wedding night suit had been set up in a disused bedroom at the far end of the house, far away from the bedrooms in use. The room smelled of lemon furniture polish and dust.
Lips clashed. Hands grasped. Robes were discarded. Skin pressed against skin. Solenne backed acro
ss the room until she bumped into the bed. She pulled him down on top of her. The bed squeaked unforgivingly.
She buried her face against his neck and laughed. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, listen to that.” She shifted, the bed groaned in complaint. “I don’t think anyone’s actually slept in this bed in a decade.”
“I didn’t plan on sleeping tonight.”
He hauled her to her feet, lips and tongues tangling to make his point. Her fingers twisted in his hair and pushed against him, driving him backward until he slammed against the wardrobe, rattling the wood against the plaster walls. “Careful,” he said, earning him a growl from his wife.
His wife.
The thread connecting them vibrated, golden and joyous. He felt her want, her hunger. The stolen kisses behind closed doors, the brush of hands, had only stoked his appetite.
“I can’t believe I’ve waited for you,” he said in a low, thick tone.
“Not for my lack of trying to seduce you.” Her eyes sparkled.
His fingers twisted in her hair, pulling the silken locks tight until her head tilted back. “Temptress.”
“Please don’t make me wait, Alek. I’m tired of waiting.”
Every point their bodies touched sparked with an energy unlike any he had ever experienced. It sang in his blood. Strengthened him. Gave him sustenance. She gave him sustenance.
With a fluid motion, he lifted Solenne and carried her to the bed. She bounced on the mattress, her laughter easy and playful. Scrambling back, her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. He pushed her down onto the mattress and loomed above her.
Hot, feverous kisses led to caresses and nibbles and licks. She gasped, pleading. He flipped her over, shoulders pressed down.
“You look so pretty on display for me,” he said, brushing a finger over her damp curls. She whimpered and positioned her legs slightly wider. “And no one’s ever appreciated this view.”
His anchor. His mate. His love.
The steady thump of her heart grounded him even as the electricity of their bond coursed through him.
“Please, Alek.”
“Such pretty pleading.” He pushed a finger in her hot, slick channel. She groaned, then pushed back. Carefully, he worked her open and added a second finger. “Are you ready for me, wife?”
“Yes, please. I’m ready,” she gasped. Her hips bucked, as if to make her point.
“Patience,” he said, then licked his fingers clean. The taste of her, musky, sweet and luscious, burst on his tongue.
More. The beast would not wait.
Climbing onto the bed, he positioned himself behind her, his cock already dripping. Slowly, he pushed in. Wet and unbelievably hot, her channel wrapped around his cock like a sheath, like she was made for him.
She gasped at the intrusion. He paused, stroking her back. “Are you well?”
“Yes, it’s just…an odd sensation.”
“Good or bad?” He caressed the round globes of her ass, perfectly shaped for his hands.
“Good. Yes, good.”
He gave a short thrust and felt her quiver around him. “Good. So good,” he growled, his mouth crowded with teeth.
Slowly—painfully slow—he pulled back and pressed forward again, filling her. Stretching her.
His toes elongated into claws, shredding the bed linens and digging into the mattress. Vaguely he was aware of feathers and stuffing that kicked up as he gained momentum for his forward thrusts.
Every nerve sang with desire and delight.
Claws erupted from his fingers. Rather than mark her delicate flesh, he wrapped one arm around her torso and the other in her hair. He pulled back, holding her flush against him as he continued to pump into her.
“Page 72,” he growled in her ear, nipping at the lobe.
She answered in a throaty moan.
Sweat rolled down his back. Close under the surface, the beast rumbled, still wanting more.
Alek flipped Solenne to her back. She squeaked in surprise but allowed herself to be positioned. With her knees pressed down until she was nearly folded in half, her feet hooked over his shoulders. He pumped into her, hard and relentless. The bed groaned in protest, but all he could hear was the synchronous rhythm of their hearts.
Solenne moaned his name and words of love, her feet kicking his back.
He gripped the headboard, letting it support his weight. The wood creaked and splintered as claws popped. He dug in harder, pushed harder, losing himself in her hot velvet embrace.
Pleasure coiled at the base of his spine, warning of his approaching climax. His fangs dropped, and he felt the razor-sharp teeth against his tongue.
The beast wanted to bite, to mark her smooth shoulders and leave evidence of his claim. The thought of her sweet blood made his mouth water. The beast did not care about the risk of contagion, it only hungered.
Alek rolled to his back, taking Solenne with him until she sat astride. Her eyes went wide, then her head fell back in a gloriously soulful moan. She rocked back and forth, finding the motion to please herself best. Watching her move, moonlight caressing her curves, was everything.
His hips bucked up, driving into her. She shuddered, then fell forward, her hands splayed on his chest. Her channel gripped him tight even as it spasmed around his cock.
Desperately close to his release, he grabbed a fist of her hair and wrapped it around his wrist. Her head jerked to the side, exposing the slender column of her throat. He snapped and snarled at the sight.
His mate.
“Alek!” Her limbs trembled and a look of bliss washed over her.
So lovely.
He lunged forward, jaws sinking into the thick length of hair held taut. His teeth chewed against the strands and the clean scent of her lemon and honey soap filled his nose. His hips pushed upwards, surging deep inside her, and he emptied his release.
Silence, except for the pounding of his heart and their ragged breaths.
Carefully, he untangled her hair from his claws. It fell in a curtain, the silken strands brushing against him. Her lips, swollen and red, twitched into a smile.
For the first time, his beast purred in contentment.
Solenne
“You bit my hair. Alek, what?”
He threw his arm over his face and groaned. “Better your hair than you.” He lifted the arm to peek at the splintered wood of the ruined headboard. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all, but my hair?”
“Solenne,” he said in a gruff voice that she knew was a teasing tone.
The bed collapsed, sending up a plume of feathers and fluff.
Alek’s eyes went wide as feathers slowly drifted down like snow.
“That’s Mrs. Hardwick to you,” she said, without missing a beat. Pressing her lips together, she did her best to resist breaking into laughter.
She failed.
They burst into laughter.
“Do you think that was an antique?” she asked.
“I think the entire house heard,” he replied. Reaching out, he plucked a feather from her hair. “I expect they’ll be knocking down the door any moment.”
“They knew what they were about when they put us in this room, far away from everything.” Solenne extricated herself from the tangle mess of the collapsed bed and wrapped herself in a blanket. “I think my bed’s big enough for two.”
“Remember when your mama almost caught us in bed?” Moonlight pooled on the floor and the ruined bed, highlighting her husband’s features. He licked his lips.
“I remember shoving you into the wardrobe and Mama acting as if she couldn’t hear you.” Solenne remembered the day well. They had done nothing more than exchange a few shy kisses, but Amalie and Godwin forbade them from being alone together in a bedroom. At the time, Solenne had been indignant. She had spent her entire childhood under blanket forts with Alek and in slumber parties, whispering stories to each other late into the night. The idea that they were too old for such behavior chafed, even if it were tr
ue.
“She said the ghosts were unusually active for that time of day,” Alek said.
They grinned at the memory.
Wrapped in blankets, they snuck through the house. Floorboards creaked and they couldn’t fight their shared mirth.
A fire crackling in the fireplace warmed Solenne’s bedroom. A pitcher of cold water and a basket of sweet rolls waited on the bureau, along with a note from Luis reminding them to hydrate and keep the noise down. “Decent people have to work in the morning,” she read, setting the note down on the bureau.
“He’s not wrong. Eat. Drink. I’m not done with you.” A wicked grin spread on his face and she shivered in anticipation.
She dropped the blanket. “Come to bed, love.”
Epilogue
Charlotte
Boxon
Vervain Hall
* * *
Solenne and Alek stayed the winter in Snowmelt. She had been reluctant to leave Boxon Hill, but her father insisted. Luis was more than capable, and he had a fresh recruit in Jase—surprising everyone—to help.
After a few weeks to recuperate from the events of the wedding, they held a rather bizarre funeral for a stuffed werewolf. Adding to the bizarreness, Godwin presented Charlotte’s father with the ashes. Apparently, the werewolf had been great-uncle Tristan.
From Solenne’s letters, the description of the Hardwick House and Snowmelt, they were forced to stay the winter. Solenne never complained in their many letters, stating that the grounds held many useful and interesting medicinal plants. They returned to Boxon in the spring, just as Luis and Miles left for the West Lands on the other side of the mountains.
Charlotte remained the mistress of Chambers’ farm, despite the best efforts of her sister-in-law to contest the legality of the union and, thus, inheritance in court. She might not have been married long enough for the ink to dry on the license, but she was legally married to Lionel Chambers, and he left no will. Why would he, when he lacked the humility to imagine his own mortality?
She felt there was a witty comment to be made about death caring not for hubris, but the simple matter was that Lionel felt himself unstoppable. Going through his private papers, Charlotte learned that when he was still newly enlisted in the military, he received the bite from his commanding officer. The presence of his master—she loathed that word—and military discipline kept the young wolf under control. Together they hunted creatures like themselves and looted the relics of old hunter families.
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