by E A Price
She didn’t seem to want or need anything from him, and he found it disconcerting that his wife was the only member of his pack who didn’t. If she didn’t need him, why would she stick around? But he would find her damn boxes even if it killed him!
Chapter Thirteen
Harold entered his house like a conquering hero. In reality, he was just a wolf shifter who yelled down the phone for five minutes until the person on the other end promised that his wife’s packages would be delivered by the end of the day. But, the look on Christine’s face made him feel like he had conquered twelve countries.
“My hero,” she said, rushing up to greet him.
“I take it your boxes turned up.”
“Yeah, thank you, so much.”
“It was nothing,” he said dismissively. It really was nothing. Five minutes of yelling – that was nothing compared to what he did on any normal day.
“Fine, fine, fine,” she murmured, amusement in her eyes. “C’mon.”
Christine took his hand, and he allowed her to lead him to the kitchen. He’d pretty much follow her anywhere. She was wearing a yellow sweater and a pair of yoga pants. Her heart-shaped ass bobbed as she walked in the most fascinating way.
She led him to the table and scooted to get a plate out of the oven. “I made you dinner.”
Harold was touched by her thoughtfulness, though somewhat annoyed as well. He hadn’t brought Christine there to be a maid and cook. They had Esther for this; he didn’t expect Christine to spend her time doing it.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said gruffly.
“I don’t mind.”
“You shouldn’t waste your time taking care of me. I can take care of myself.”
Or he can pay Esther to do the things he didn’t have time for.
Christine’s smile faltered. “I was making my own dinner.”
“You can have Esther make it,” he told her impatiently.
The smile completely disappeared. “I like cooking.”
“I don’t expect you to go to any trouble,” he tried to explain. “I don’t want you to trouble yourself.”
Christine stared at him for a few seconds, before her mouth tightened into a small pout.
“Fine,” she murmured. “You better eat it before it gets cold. I’m going to unpack a few boxes.”
She walked away rubbing her forehead. An inner growl passed through him. He perhaps could have handled that better.
*
Christine rifled through her boxes, angry with her husband for a reason she didn’t really understand.
She hadn’t wanted to be some guy’s little wife – popping out babies and casseroles. But she didn’t have a problem with cooking – she cooked for herself. What on earth did he think she would do with all her free time? He certainly didn’t seem interested in being around to spend time with her, and Esther did everything else for her.
She pulled a picture of her parents out and smiled. It was taken last year on their thirtieth anniversary. They were gazing at one another in adoration. Even after thirty years together, they were still in love. But their relationship was more than that.
They had always been so happy. Her father had a lot of responsibility, but her mother was always there to support him, to share his problems, to offer her help and advice. They were partners. But Harold didn’t seem to want a partner. He married her because he was told to for the pack, but as far as making the best of things went, the only part of the marriage that seemed of interest to him was sex. It wasn’t enough.
She stiffened slightly as she sensed Harold coming. She concentrated on unpacking her belongings and didn’t pay much heed as Harold came into the room. Wordlessly, he moved around, undressing, donning pajama bottoms, brushing his teeth, and scrolling through e-mails on that damn phone that barely seemed to leave his hand.
She could sense his increasing impatience, but stubbornly she continued to unpack. Maybe she was being mean. They had only been together a few days, and the marriage was a sudden change for him as well as her. She wasn’t the only one having to adjust. Perhaps he never opened up to any woman. She couldn’t expect him to suddenly become a different person, especially for her, a complete stranger. Maybe…
“Christine, it’s late. Come to bed.”
“Okay,” she muttered.
She slipped into the bathroom and took her sweet time changing into a vest and shorts, scrubbing her face clean and brushing her own teeth.
Part of her hoped he would already be asleep by the time she got out there – to avoid the awkwardness she felt inside. Naturally, when she finally emerged, he was wide awake and growing more and more irritated with her dithering.
She started folding her clothes.
“Christine, will you come to bed?!” he growled. “Please,” he added as an afterthought.
“Okay.”
She flitted to her side of the bed and slipped under the covers. He settled down beside her, his annoyance wafting in her direction.
Christine slipped her watch off her wrist and reached over to place it on the bedside table.
“What happened here?”
“Huh?”
“Your scar.” He brushed his fingers over the scar on her shoulder, and she shivered lightly. It was a large, jagged scar, but one that was thankfully camouflaged by her numerous freckles.
She looked at him over her shoulder as he rubbed his thumb over the blemish.
“I fell off my bike when I was nine. I fell on broken glass.” It was before she turned into her wolf and before she could heal herself.
“That must have hurt,” he murmured, his eyes on her shoulder.
“Yeah. Hurt worse when a student doctor sewed me up – I think it was his first day. My mom was super pissed at the mess he made of it. But it’s hard to see it because of all my freckles. Guess they are good for something.”
She laughed self-consciously and nestled her head on the pillow. The freckles had always been a sensitive issue for her. Her mother and two sisters had tanned, blemish-free skin, but Christine took after her grandmother, in the dark freckles smattered all over her body. Roark had told her she was cute, and that he didn’t mind the freckles, but she wasn’t lovely like her siblings.
Christine gasped as, briefly, she felt Harold’s lips on her scar.
“What’s wrong with freckles?” he asked.
Another kiss. The unexpected tender touch sent tingles straight to her sex.
“Ah, they, ah, aren’t exactly pretty.”
“Says who?” grumbled Harold in between kisses. He slipped the vest strap off her shoulder.
“They just aren’t…”
Harold huffed and shuffled closer to her. His hardness pressed against her. She gasped as she realized he was already naked.
As his lips caressed her shoulder and neck his hands tugged at her shorts. He wanted sex. She should ask him to stop… right? This wasn’t a good idea. Sex without intimacy was a bad idea. Though, this felt pretty damn intimate. But she didn’t want a relationship where the only thing between them was sex.
Christine whimpered as his fingers found her clit. Her hips moved of their own accord, pushing back against his burgeoning arousal. She pressed herself against him, seeking both his manhood and his kisses. Her thoughts scrambled. Maybe this was what they needed. Maybe this was as close to intimacy as they would get. Maybe she would take any excuse she could get.
He finally managed to push her shorts over her ass; his progress hampered as his other hand strummed her throbbing bundle of nerves. But oh, if he had dared stop she would have growled at him at that moment. She could feel herself slickening, readying to take him. How could sex with him feel so good, and so right when the rest of the time she felt so churned up inside about him? She should stop this… maybe.
“I think freckles are beautiful,” he murmured against her neck.
“Oh, Harold,” she breathed. Lord, she was such a sucker. “Please, I need you.”
There was n
o triumphant growl, no self-satisfied reply to her statement like there would have been with Roark. Her ex had enjoyed teasing her, making her beg for him, loving how needy and weak she became. But Harold wasn’t like that; he wouldn’t torment her to make himself feel powerful. He wanted her, and she wanted him.
He grasped her thigh and pushed it up and forwards, opening her to him. She bit her lip as she felt the blunt head of his arousal nudging her drenched entrance. There was no holding back, no demanding she submit, Harold only hesitated for the briefest shade of a second to say ten words to her, and then he plunged inside. Her body tightened and exploded in a release on the first thrust.
Harold growled and drove himself inside her again and again as she gasped and whimpered through her climax.
Later she would tell herself it was because of his fingers on her clit – strumming her like she was a fine instrument. But no, it was the words that brought her so quickly to pleasure. Ones no one had ever said to her.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
Chapter Fourteen
Harold was gone by the time she woke up. Not surprising considering she slept until eleven. When she focused on the time, she scooted out of bed, running to the bathroom to dash into the shower until… she realized she had nowhere to be. That depressed her. Back home, she was always rushing around. Rushing to work, rushing out to spend time with her friends, rushing to see Roark, rushing to see her family, rushing to run a pack errand or visit a pack mate… Always rushing. Now, she had nothing to do.
Yeah, she could do whatever she wanted. Except everything she wanted to do was back in Texas. Everyone she wanted to see was back in Texas.
She pulled on her robe and grabbed her phone, scrolling through the comments and pictures posted by her friends back home on various social networking apps. They told her they were missing her. Said they hoped everything was going okay. But their lives were pretty much as they always had been. They were all pack mates; they had understood about the arranged mating, and to them, she was just doing something that had to be done. With or without her, their lives would go on.
Just like her job had already been filled. She wasn’t needed; she wasn’t irreplaceable.
Christine snorted. If she proved to be an unfit wife for Harold, she would probably be replaced with another Alpha’s daughter.
Needing a little reassurance, she flicked to her contacts and dialed her mother. She answered on the second ring. They had taken to speaking to each other every day on the phone. They probably said more than back when they were in the same state, never mind the same house.
“How are you, sweetie?”
“I’m fine,” replied Christine.
“You don’t sound fine. Is everything okay with Harold?”
Christine sighed. “It’s just early days.”
They were both still adjusting to the other, course that would be easier if Harold spent more time at home. The only thing she really knew was that they were compatible physically.
“He isn’t… harming you in any way is he?”
“No! Jeez, Mom!” Christine shook her head.
“Well, we really don’t know anything about him – who knows what he’s like in private. He could be a sexual deviant for all we know!”
Since her mother’s idea of a sexual deviant included everything from bondage to people who had sex outside the bedroom, the bar was pretty low for that. But, unless Harold had a secret sex dungeon she hadn’t discovered yet, she was going to say that Harold had pretty normal tastes when it came to sex.
“Mom…”
“I mean, the private detective hasn’t been able to discover anything…”
“Private detective? What do you mean?”
Her mother hesitated. “Well, we didn’t have the money before you got married, but as soon as we got home after the wedding we hired someone to look into Harold – just in case there was… well, anything that we could perhaps use to get you a divorce.”
“Mom, we haven’t even been married a week,” she ground out angrily.
Her mother took on a hurt tone. “You never wanted this marriage; we thought you would want this.”
“Mom…”
No, of course, she didn’t jump at the chance to marry a stranger, but she had, and she wanted to honor the agreement they made. She didn’t want to run around behind his back trying to figure a way out of their marriage.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to say next, and thankfully, she was spared having to come up with something. Esther knocked and bustled into her room, whispering that Marie – Harold’s grandmother - had arrived and was waiting for her downstairs. Esther was as flustered as if royalty was visiting, and Christine supposed that in this pack, Marie was the queen.
Christine wasn’t exactly thrilled that Marie had shown up unannounced, but it gave her a reason to end the phone call. She moved to her closet to grab some clothes, and Esther stopped her, grasping her hand and tugging her to the door.
“Esther, I’m not dressed!” exclaimed Christine.
She was wearing a pair of big pajamas – Harold’s pajamas in fact, and while they covered her admirably - she had sleepily pulled them on after she and Harold had sex. Well, after the final time they had sex – they had a rather busy night and she absolutely reeked of him and their lovemaking.
The older she-wolf took on a harried expression. “You do not want to keep her waiting, trust me. It’s better you get down there.”
Christine frowned. Marie had called on her unexpectedly – the least she could do was wait until Christine was ready.
Esther squeezed her hand. “Please, for my sake.”
She sighed. She didn’t want Marie to take her annoyance out on Esther. “Fine, but at least let me put a robe on.”
Esther breathed out in relief and murmured a thank you, eagerly getting Christine’s robe and helping her put it on.
She found Marie in the living room, sneering at nothing in particular.
“How good of you to deign to get out of bed to see me,” she said, looking Christine up and down in disapproval.
“Hello Marie,” said Christine, ignoring the jibe.
Marie sniffed and banged her cane. “Tea.”
Esther flinched and scurried away.
A middle-aged wolf shifter was standing behind Marie. She was a little plump, had bags under her eyes and sported a harrowed look. She was Marie’s assistant. Not a very nice position to be in.
Christine sat on a chair opposite Marie and offered her assistant a seat.
Marie banged her cane again. “She can stand, well enough.”
Christine doubted she even needed the cane; she suspected Marie carried it so she could bang it for attention, and so she could hit people if the desire took her.
“Is there something I can help you with?” asked Christine.
Hopefully quickly, so you can leave. She had barely spent any time with Marie, but Christine knew she did not like her. She could sense the other woman’s viciousness. Her wolf must have been something to behold when she was younger. Marie exuded strength, even at her advanced age.
Marie’s lips curled. “How soon can we expect the arrival?”
Christine blinked at her. “Arrival?”
“Of my great-grandson,” said the older wolf with relish.
Christine stared at her for a few beats – took her that long to realize she was talking about her and Harold’s future offspring.
“Harold and I agreed that we would wait,” said Christine, nearly laughing at Marie’s earnestness. Plus, they had only been married a handful of days – she was hardly going to pop out a pup next Thursday!
Marie’s eyes narrowed. “Wait? Whatever for?”
“Well, we barely know each other…”
“I was pregnant with my son an hour after my mating,” Marie proclaimed proudly.
“Well, things were different back then…” Marie’s eyes became slits. “Ah, not that you’re old!”
“You have five years to give me a great-grandson,” said Marie coldly, “and if you don’t, you can rest assured that I will have every single member of your pack penniless and homeless.”
Christine swallowed a growl at the threat to her pack. No, must not kill grandmother-in-law.
Marie smiled with the warmth of a glacier. “Now get to it, and bear in mind, if you do anything to contravene the agreement, you’ll be back in Texas with the rest of your bumpkin family so fast you’ll think your trailer park was hit by a tornado.”
Esther scuttled into the room, carrying a laden tea tray.
Marie snarled at her and Esther quivered, nearly dropping everything.
“Too late, I’m leaving.”
Her assistant moved to help her, but Marie batted her away. Yep, as she swept out of the room, it was clear that she could manage just fine on her own. The assistant shrugged at Christine before running after Marie.
Christine slumped in her seat. Well, wasn’t that just dandy?
*
Harold found his wife already in bed and asleep when he came home. He perched on the edge of the bed and watched her for a few moments, a strange feeling stirring inside him.
They had not spoken all day, and a part of him was disappointed in that. He had tried calling the house, but she was not there. Esther told him Christine went to the club, and a flash of irrational anger had him calling the club manager to ensure his wife was not taking tennis lessons with the club instructor. She wasn’t. According to the manager, she was only using the pool. High handed and petty maybe, but he had told the manager that his wife was not allowed to take tennis lessons with Lars – should she request them. Having his mother sleeping with the man was embarrassing enough, he did not want his wife to do the same.
