by Ann Aguirre
Smiling, she leaned in to inspect his cards. “Discard that one.”
And then she dragged her nails down his back.
14.
At first Pru feared she’d gone too far. Too bold, too wicked, and in front of all these people too. Dom had been glaring like a thundercloud all night, and gambling didn’t seem to have cheered him any.
Maybe I can pretend I forgot what that signal means.
But then he rose from the table in a smooth motion, his face artfully blank, yet she read the lambent shine of his eyes. “I fold,” he said, tossing his cards.
In a casual motion, he leaned down and kissed her neck. That’s a definite yes. A covert thrill spiraled through her. Nobody suspects a thing.
“Now I’ll never know if you were bluffing,” Raff mumbled.
His cheeks held a high color, perceptible even above his well-groomed beard. Normally, the wolf lord could hold his drink, but Pru had no clue how much he’d already imbibed. Beren threw down his hand with a disgusted grumble while an Eldritch raised and Slay took more cards. It seemed that the game would continue without Dom.
He wrapped an arm about her waist, distracting her from anything besides his touch. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, and even if you do, I’m dancing with my beautiful wife.”
Wife. He’d never said that word before, at least not in conjunction with her, and a pit that was equal measure dread and yearning opened in her stomach. They hadn’t spoken formal vows, only made a desperate deal on the mountain. Yet she took his hand when he offered, and the dancers actually made room for them on the floor, as if together, they radiated some kind of undeniable magic. Like Dalena and Dom.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I’m probably rusty.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Around them, the music swelled, and none of it felt quite real when he drew her in. Though she’d danced with so many partners she’d lost count tonight, somehow this was the only song that mattered. His hand glowed with pure heat when it settled on her waist, and when he swung her into the first turn, Pru let out a little gasp. Her feet nearly left the floor.
“Warned you,” he whispered.
She couldn’t take her eyes off his face. This party weighed with every bit as much importance as it ever had, but the nuances faded until she couldn’t read them. If someone was plotting on the perimeter, they would succeed with their clandestine agenda. In this moment, there were only his eyes, his hands, and his mouth. Pru had never known the world to disappear… until right then.
As if the musicians sensed what was unfolding, they changed the tempo for the next number, slow and sultry with the sweet wail of horns. He drew her even closer, so each step felt like foreplay. His thighs brushed hers, his chest, and then he tilted his head to hers. Ostensibly they were dancing cheek to cheek, but the rasp of his breath and the scrape of his whiskers against her jaw felt wicked as sin. She had never been more conscious of the heat and strength of him, and she couldn’t resist the urge to wrap her arms fully about his neck.
“I’m one heartbeat away from taking you on a table. Do you think we can slip away?” His tone was so matter of fact that Pru couldn’t believe she’d heard him right, but the simmer in his gaze confirmed the question.
She cleared her throat. “We should say our farewells to our guests of honor—”
“Fuck that,” he growled. “Talfayen is gone already, Alastor is dancing with Joss, both Raff and Beren are dead drunk.”
“Then let’s sneak off.” For once, she’d throw caution to the wind. What were the chances that anything awful would happen, just because she pretended her name wasn’t Prudence?
“Finally some good news. You know how tired I am of watching other men touch you?”
“Is this a trick question?” she teased, towing him toward the exit.
They almost made it all the way out of the building, but Magda stopped them in the corridor. “Is this wise?”
Dom shrugged. “Don’t care. I feel like we’ve given fair entertainment value. You and Slay take over.”
The security chief sighed, but she didn’t argue. “Understood.”
After that, he pulled Pru away from the event hall, out into the chilly night air. She half-expected him to toss her over one shoulder—and she wouldn’t have minded—but instead he spun her to him, cupped her face in his hands, and went for her mouth like her kiss could keep him from dying of thirst. With his whole body, he backed her up, until she hit the chilly stone wall, and Dom kept coming, sealing them together like missing pieces of a puzzle.
Moaning softly, she parted her lips, and the minute their tongues touched, he made such a hungry sound that her toes curled in her fancy shoes. Dom stole her breath again and again, his mouth wild on hers, her cheeks, jaw, throat, back and forth. Countless moments later, she realized they were rocking together, his hands on her ass, skirt rucked up so anyone could see.
“Dom,” she panted.
“That’s good.” He seemed one kiss away from opening his pants.
“N-not here.” The caress nearly stole the last of her common sense, as he delved between them, into her panties.
“You’re so wet. Driving me crazy.”
Two or three strokes from coming, Pru whimpered as she tore away. We can’t do this here. But a good portion of her wanted to, and she didn’t care who might be watching or listening. Calling on the last of her discretion, she quelled those urges, broke free, and stumbled a few steps away. Her mouth felt soft and swollen, and Dom’s gaze scorched like lightning raking over her. Tousled hair, rumpled dress, kiss-stung lips—she’d never felt so sexy in her life.
“Don’t run,” he warned.
On wobbly knees, she did exactly that.
From behind, he let out a growl that might have worried her, if she hadn’t been so busy giggling and dodging him. He nearly caught her in the stairwell, but she took off her heels and chucked them at him, and then she raced him to the apartment, wildly positive this was only making him hotter. It wasn’t that she actually wanted to escape, just delay long enough that they wouldn’t ruin the conclave with a mating-frenzy scandal.
She made it all the way to the bedroom, and then he was on her, hand on her neck, pressing her into the mattress. Dom came down on top of her from behind, his breath coming in great gasps. Her heart thundered with excitement that was minutely spiced with alarm. Pru had never guessed he could get so out of control, never imagined it was even possible. He yanked her skirt up and tore her panties clean off; the ferocity sent a shiver through her, and she lifted her ass, just a little, sending the silent message that it wasn’t too much or too far. That earned a grunt of pleasure and two hard thrusts, his hard cock gliding between her slick lips. Then he added fingers as he circled his hips, fucking into her harder with each touch.
“You…” Stroke. “Are…” Stroke. “Mine. Say it.”
It was all she could do to get a breath for the wrenching pleasure, let alone speak. But she got, “Yours. Only yours,” out around a guttural cry.
“Pru… Don’t run, understand? I can’t—” But whatever he might’ve said was lost in a shudder and a moan.
Driving into her from behind, Dom fastened his teeth on her shoulder, hard enough to bruise. The slight pain didn’t hinder the spikes of sensation from his cock working inside her and the fingertips strumming her clit. She rocked back on him, not thinking of anything but the perfect angle. Pru huffed out an incoherent demand when she found it, and he steadied her hips with one hand.
“I’m coming.” Not that she needed to tell him.
From the frantic increase of his thrusts, he felt it, and he held her down until his hands hurt her a little, and his teeth sank in. Dom shook and pushed and came, all liquid heat inside her. Pru felt it on her ass, on her thighs, and her entire body went boneless. Afterward Dom’s breaths sounded almost like sobs, and when she tried to turn over, he held her closer and wouldn’t let go. If she hadn’t been so physically blasted,
she would’ve pushed for a kiss.
“You okay?” she asked dreamily. “I’ve never seen you like that.”
In answer, he grazed her jaw with his lips. He didn’t roll over. He didn’t pull away.
In the morning, she woke early and found him already gone.
Last night, what the hell was that? Dom wouldn’t have said he had a plan for his relationship with Pru, but it shook him when he realized how much he wanted her, how crazy she could make him. He’d never chased a woman down and fucked her like some nonverbal sex beast. Sick to his stomach, he wasn’t entirely sure he would’ve heard or stopped even if she’d asked him to, and that was so far past okay—and well into terrifying—that he didn’t know if he could find his way back with a map and compass.
For a long moment, he saw again the imprint of his hands and teeth on her body, marks and bruises he’d left. It wasn’t supposed to be that intense. If he could’ve predicted, he would have guessed that their relationship would be warm and comfortable, like a pair of cozy slippers. Not… this, whatever it was. Wanting her this much bothered him on multiple levels.
He was far too rattled to face their guests, and it was too early besides. At first he didn’t know where he was going until his steps turned toward the greenhouse. Inside, the hot, humid air came as a shock after the crisp cold outdoors. Arran was working with the orchids, and though Dom didn’t really want to make small talk, it would be rude to bypass the pride seer without a word. Plus, Arran always saw too much, so he shouldn’t give him a reason to analyze.
“Morning,” he said.
“You look rough.”
Exactly what I’m talking about.
Dodging that question, he noted, “I didn’t see you or Hugh at the banquet last night.”
The seer shrugged. “He hates that sort of thing, and I’m not likely to force him to attend. It’s not like I love formal events either.”
“But you both shine in tailored suits.” Though Dom was teasing, the statement held more than a grain of truth. The pride seer and his mate were handsome, and they cleaned up well.
“I’d rather talk about you and whatever put that look on your face.”
With a faint sigh, he waved away the concern. Arran took him at his word and left him to collect a handful of flowers; he didn’t pick the rare ones, though nobody would chide him if he did. His intention coalesced as he gathered the simple bouquet. At the center of Ash Valley, he found the columbarium with a niche set aside for each member of the pride that had passed, along with pictures left by loved ones, small offerings beside their urns of ash. This was why there were no dead buried in what the others called the city of bone.
First he made his bows to his parents and greeted them. “It’s been too long. I wish I had a better excuse, but I can see someone’s been taking care of you.”
Their space was clean and polished with fresh flowers in a vase, but Dom added a couple of his own blooms to show proper regard. He touched the last picture they’d taken together. Eighteen. I was eighteen. When he thought back, it had been a hell of a decade. Just before his nineteenth birthday, his mother died of a virus she’d contracted on vacation in the south, and six years later, his father fell to a Golgoth guerrilla squad in the north. It was supposed to be a routine visit to the bear hold, no complications. And three years ago, he lost Dalena too.
Maybe it’s no surprise I fell apart. Maybe the shocking bit is that it took so long.
“I hope you’re both well.” Even at his lowest, he liked picturing his parents together. “Things are kind of a mess, here…” For the next ten minutes, he told them about the state of affairs in Ash Valley, and he felt a little lighter when he finished.
But now, a more difficult visit lay ahead. Dalena’s memorial wasn’t far, only three steps to the right. As ever, her beauty took his breath away, but as he studied her familiar features, he realized he’d forgotten—that she had a divot in her chin and no dimples, that her cheekbones were so lovely and sharp, that her eyes were so thick-lashed, and her nose was longer than he’d remembered. Fresh pain broke over him in a drowning wave, and he went to his knees, hands shaking too hard to present the bouquet to the one person who had been his since the first moment he saw her.
Dalena hadn’t been born in Ash Valley. She came from one of the satellite settlements in the east, near the wolf border. But when that small township burned, the refugees came in fives and tens, her family among them. Even at nine, he had been riveted. She was even smaller still, and for years, he had no name for the feelings that kindled at the sight of her. Yet they were always inseparable, along with Pru and Slay who made up the other sides of the square.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
There was no stopping the tears. It’s too early for anyone to see. They burned his cheeks like acid, dripping salt over his mouth. The worst part was that he could still taste Pru’s skin as he made this apology to her best friend. What am I doing? The fuck am I doing?
Slay was right to object.
“Are we hurting you? I wish you could tell me. But if you could…” His words stalled, and he bowed his head, hands clenched on the shelf that housed such scant evidence that such an amazing person ever lived. “You might even say, Why does it have to be Pru? I could understand anyone else. And I’m sorry, I don’t know. You must be wondering why… and what about Slay. Everything is just so fucked up.”
Dom couldn’t quite bring himself to whisper that he’d been ready to die. Surely Dalena wouldn’t wish to hear that. If he knew her, she’d want him to live on and be as happy as he could without her. Shivering and swallowing a sob, he hauled himself upright and laid her flowers on the shelf, next to the smiling portrait.
“I miss you. Since I came back, since I stopped drinking, I haven’t seen you even once.”
He’d lived for the rare nights that she came to him, healthy and whole instead of wheezing and bloody. But since the first time he took Pru, he didn’t dream at all, or if he did, they were so innocuous that he didn’t recall. At first that peace seemed like a good thing, but now he wondered if it meant Dalena had gone away, driven off by the conviction that he didn’t love her anymore.
“I’m not replacing you,” he said then. “I’m not. Just… this is for the pride. I have to—”
The quiet scrape of soles on the tile startled him, and he turned to find Pru there, so pale that each freckle looked like a copper dot. Her hand clenched until her knuckles went white on the flowers she held. With some dim, horrified part of his mind, he realized her bouquet matched the ones in his family vase. It was so Pru. Before they were mated, she must’ve been tending to the courtesies for him. A few days back, Caio had even mentioned that she was the one who had taken care of his apartment after it became a crime scene. When he imagined her on her hands and knees, scrubbing up her friend’s blood, he couldn’t breathe.
He already owed her so much, and now he’d stolen her chance at happiness too, tying her to him with a deal she hadn’t needed to make. Aching, he couldn’t meet her gaze. How much did she hear? How much did I hurt her? While the marks might not be physical, like last night, they probably cut deeper.
For an endless moment, only the rasp of her breath broke that awful silence. He feared she might cry, but then she lifted her chin and forced a smile. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “I was… these are for your parents, and I’m visiting my mother too, but you were here first. I’ll come back. Go ahead.”
He would’ve felt better if she shouted at him or sobbed. Inexplicably he felt as if she’d caught him doing something awful. Those wounded eyes. But he couldn’t chase her as he had last night; his shoes felt as if they were filled with lead.
Somehow, it seemed best to let her go.
15.
There’s no reason I should feel like this.
When Pru found Dom talking to the love he lost, it shouldn’t rip her chest open. He never promised his heart. Friendship. Respect. I knew what he could offer when I went in
to this, and I’m lucky overall. The silent pep talk didn’t help much. Her sternum still hurt, and the tears simmering in the back of her throat wouldn’t go away.
She couldn’t go home because that would be the first place he’d check. Either way, Pru wasn’t ready to talk to Dom. The flowers she’d collected were already wilting in the cold, so she waited, hidden, for Dom to leave the columbarium. It took nearly fifteen minutes, and she wondered what more he had to say. Finally, she got the chance to slip in and leave her forlorn floral offering, splitting the bouquet between her mother and his parents. Since she’d been back, she hadn’t visited Dalena, but today was definitely not the time, given that she felt equal measures of sorrowful and apologetic.
Afterward, she stepped into the icy air and pulled her coat collar up. In better weather, the park would be full of families, laughing children, and pride warriors engaging in friendly competition. The sky above reflected her mood—heavy and leaden—and it spat intermittent snow, mixed with freeing rain, so her hair was damp when she reached the uncertain shelter of the gazebo. Summertime would find musicians gathered here, but winter brought only silence, exactly what she had in mind.
The ashes were cold in the fire pit with enough wood stockpiled that Pru busied herself lighting it. Warmth would be nice, plus she hoped focusing on a task might calm her down. But when she finished, she only had a fire going and no greater sense of calm. With a quiet cry, she collapsed onto the stone bench nearby and buried her face in her hands. No amount of looking on the bright side could stop the pain, so she let it come.
I’m not replacing you, Dom had assured Dalena.
For some reason she’d forgotten—and she shouldn’t have—that he’d said, You will never fill her shoes. You’re not even her shadow anymore.
