by Celia Kyle
Emotionally? Yeah, she’d been wrecked, but physically she was fine.
Hence the dish washing.
Harding bent over to snare a half-chewed bone and she bit back her moan. The man had a snackable ass.
“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” The voice was soft and timid, but familiar to her.
Tess rested the pan on the bottom of the sink and grabbed a nearby dishtowel to dry her hands. She was stalling. A pussy move, but she did it nonetheless.
“No more than it’s my fault, it’s not yours, Tess.” Still the tenor was gentle, barely a whisper.
Steeling herself, telling her heart that it needed to stay strong, she turned toward the speaker. And stared into a set of eyes that looked so like…Ben’s. How had she not seen it before? The nose… The eyebrows… The coloring. Ben, Ben and Ben.
“Millie. No one said you were coming. Did they hook you up with a car? You should have been here earlier. There was a big party and—”
Millie shook her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t push it off.” The woman was so small, tiny in their large kitchen, but her strength was unmistakable. While her voice might be timid, her rigid posture and the determined gleam in her eyes were anything but. “I can feel how much guilt you’re carrying around about Ben. It’s not healthy.”
Tears pricked her eyes and she wondered who’d told Millie about Ben. Then she remembered she was looking at a Sensitive, someone who could poke around in people’s heads. “Maybe it’s deserved. Maybe if I’d done something years ago, you wouldn’t have been with Alistair, and then Ben wouldn’t have come looking for you and hurt Harding and then—”
“And then, and then, and then.” Millie shook her head. “Bad people do bad things. Ben didn’t always have problems. I can’t remember the same way he can. I took after my mother so I’m a cat. I wish he would have gotten help as he grew up. I wish he would have done things differently. But just because he was looking for me doesn’t mean that what he did to Harding is my fault.” Millie took a step deeper into the room and slid onto one of the bar stools. “If I hadn’t been kidnapped, then Ben wouldn’t have come looking for me and hurt Harding. So, am I at fault, too?”
Tess laughed mirthlessly. “Did you suspect it though? Did you even think for a moment that Ben was the one hurting your mate?”
“There’s no law against being wrong. No law against wanting to be sure before you implicated a friend.” Pity filled the Sensitive’s eyes, and Tess tore her gaze from the woman. It was the last emotion she wanted directed at her.
She didn’t deserve it. No matter what anyone said, she’d…
“Do you ever get tired of being the martyr, Tess?” Millie snapped at her. “Because you’re going to keep beating yourself up over this, and then where will you be? Alone.” This was the first hint of backbone within Millie that she’d ever witnessed. “Enough. Mistakes happen. You have a mate who wants to do nothing more than love you.”
Tess shook her head in denial, but Millie continued. “Yes, I can feel it from here. He does. So, you don’t have to let go of the guilt, but don’t let it rule you.”
It sounded so easy.
“It isn’t easy. It’s hard and it hurts and sometimes you’ll want to die from it, but you can’t let it steal your life.” God, the words were so close to Carly’s, she wondered if Millie plucked them from the bunny’s mind. And she wondered if maybe the women were right.
Millie reached toward her, and Tess closed the distance between them, sliding her palm over the other woman’s. The moment their skin touched, Millie’s powers filled her, stroked and soothed the ragged edge of her emotions. “You need to let go of your fear, too, Tess.”
“Millie…”
“Let me ask you something. Do you think Harding is an abomination? His family did.”
A growl built in her chest and she tugged against the female’s hold. “Of course not, how dare you say that?”
“So, if he turns you and you become a white lion, does that make you one? His family will think so.”
“It’s different,” she snapped. “Alistair was evil.”
“And Harding might leave the toilet seat up. That doesn’t mean you’ll start doing the same if he Changes you.”
“It’s different.”
Millie snorted. Honest to God. The timid, beaten, and abused feline snorted. “It’s not and you know it.” The woman’s gaze bore into hers. “You’re living on fear now, Tess. Let it go. Be happy and mate the man before his balls fall off. You, more than any of us, deserve to be happy.”
But she didn’t. Not really.
Did she?
Millie squeezed her hand and released her, sliding from the stool as she did so. “The greatest revenge you can ever have on him is to live your life and be happy. Ben was your friend and trusting him was a mistake. Alistair was simply evil down to his bones. None of it had a thing to do with you as a person. Your soul isn’t some black void waiting to suck other people in.” Millie sighed. “Live, Tess. Just live.”
The woman left her, footsteps light, and she strained to hear Millie depart. Eventually, the soft click of the front door reached her, and Tess slumped against the counter, emotionally drained.
Thoughts tumbled over one another, flickers of her memories overlaying each other as they drifted past.
Yet, one thing slowly emerged from the tumult in her mind.
She wanted to live.
Well, she wanted to mate Harding, too.
Not necessarily in that order.
Harding’s heavy stomp on the back porch snared her attention. She turned toward the sound, catching him with her gaze as he stepped over the threshold. He must have seen something in her expression, and a look of concern overtook his features. “Tess?” He inhaled and his nostrils flared. “What was Millie doing here?” He strode toward her and swept her into his arms, holding her close. “You okay?”
“Yeah. We were just talking.” She reveled in the restrained strength of his body and the gentle way he held her close. “It wasn’t my fault, was it?”
Harding cupped her face, stroking the soft skin of her cheek. “No, baby.”
His touch sent a tingle of desire through her, arousal unfurling like a flower opening for the sun. With acceptance came the ability to feel, really feel. “And if…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “If we mate—”
“When.”
“Cocky.” She stuck out her tongue. “If we mate, I won’t turn into him will I?” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could voice his opinion. “No. I won’t. Because I’m not him.”
“Exactly. You’re Tess. Brave, beautiful, strong Tess. My mate.”
Tess accepted the words, something deep inside acknowledging that they were true, yet she still wasn’t sure. Guilt had fled at Millie’s words, the woman’s message ringing loud and clear. Except fear ruled her conviction, pushed her away from the idea of becoming Harding’s mate. So, instead of demanding that he bite her, she pulled from his arms and strode toward the hallway. She ignored his scent, the pull of her body toward him, and the need to jump into his arms. Too much had changed, shifted, and tilted in the last fifteen minutes. Too much…
In the archway, she turned back to him, wincing at the desolation in his gaze. “I need,” she licked her lips. “I’m going to take a nap for a little while.”
And think.
And wonder.
And hope.
*
The door had barely clicked shut before Harding was on the move and striding toward the guest bedroom. He was drawn to his mate, pulled by an unseen force, and he couldn’t bear being far from her. He’d heard Millie’s words even though he’d pretended surprise at the woman’s presence. And every syllable the female uttered was true.
It was a matter of Tess believing her.
Harding strode down the hallway, moving as fast as possible while keeping his steps silent. In seconds he stood before her door, hands braced on the jambs as he leaned toward the solid pie
ce of wood that separated him from his mate. Her scent drifted to him from around the edges of the portal, the sticky sweet honey calling to him like nothing else in the world.
He wanted to tear the door to shreds, demolish it and scoop his mate into his arms. He’d carry her to his room, strip her bare, and then…
Damn, his cock was hard. He’d gotten used to it in the past week, falling asleep and then waking with an erection to end all erections. All because of the curvaceous woman on the other side of the door. He wondered if she was in similar shape, her body craving him as he craved her.
Maybe someday soon he’d find out.
Harding listened to the soft rustles of fabric and imagined her stripping her clothes from her body, peeling away layers to reveal silken skin. The squeak of the mattress reached him and he easily pictured the scene in his mind: Tess sliding beneath the sheets and settling on the soft surface. In his fantasies, she’d been in his bed. With him. They’d cuddle close and with or without sex, he’d fall asleep with her in his arms.
He’d be one lucky lion.
Maybe it was good that she held off. He had been gung-ho and ready to mate from the first sniff, but if they’d taken the leap weeks ago, he never would have learned all he had about his mate.
He also wouldn’t have learned that his past was nothing. It was a blip on his life’s radar. He’d suffered, true, but it paled when compared to Tess’s experiences. Yes, his family had turned on him, but he’d found a new one in Ridgeville, hadn’t he? Tess had never had the security of caring relatives, related by blood or not. Well, he was fixing that, giving her his family, bringing her into the fold, and working to show her what love should be about.
Love.
He’d said the three little words, uttered them without hesitation and then not given her a chance to analyze them to death. His Tess tended to grab onto a thought and wring the thing until there was nothing left.
Was that what was she doing now? Poking and prodding at three little words?
Probably.
Harding pushed away from the door and eased back until he hit the opposite wall. He slid down the hard surface and sat on the ground, unwilling to leave her yet.
Damn, hadn’t this become a pitiful habit? Every night since her return he’d done the same, sitting outside her door until he was too tired to remain, just so he’d have a few more minutes of being close to her. His cat was in a twenty-four-seven full on rage. The lion didn’t paw and scratch at his mental walls, it tore and gored them.
It wanted out.
Harding wanted it to stay put. Patience. He’d repeated the word to his lion over and over again, but it didn’t do a damned bit of good.
He sighed and let his head rest against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as he simply listened to the sound of her breathing. It was deep and rhythmic, lulling him toward peace. Regardless of the cat’s demands, he was calmer simply being near her. Nothing compared to this closeness.
The mattress creaked, his mate getting more comfortable. He could help her with that. Another creak and rustle of fabric. She really was unsettled by Millie’s visit, and part of him ached to race into her room and comfort her. But he wouldn’t.
This time the rustle of cotton came with a flutter of movement and the soft, rapid steps of his mate racing to the bedroom door. She flung it open, and the waning sunlight shining through the windows cast her in shades of golden cream.
Dressed in only a long T-shirt that clung to her curves, she was a vision of seduction, her body calling to his lion like catnip.
“What are you doing out here?” Tess narrowed her eyes.
Rather than rising, he simply stared, drinking in her appearance. She’d make him leave soon, and he probably wouldn’t ever get to do this again now that she’d caught him. So, he looked his fill and demanded that his cat be patient.
“I…” What could he say? I’m stalking you. I want to be close to you. I love you. All of the above. “I…” God, he couldn’t get a word out, the vision she presented was too much to allow him to breathe, let alone speak.
Tess stepped into the hall and dropped to her knees beside him. She grabbed his hand and twined their fingers together and spoke without speaking. She hadn’t done this since Ben’s final attack, hadn’t initiated any sort of telepathic contact with anyone other than Maddy as far as he knew. But now, she was doing it with him.
Feelings and emotions flowed to him, sliding beneath his skin as if they’d always belonged inside him. In a way, they always had. She was his mate, his love, his forever.
Forever? Her mental voice was timid, unsure.
Harding was quick to reassure her. Of course. You’re my mate. I will never turn my back on you, Tess. You’ll be by my side. Always.
But after Ben… You were so angry, Harding, and…
He cursed his own stupidity and blindness. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. I couldn’t help being angry. I won’t pretend that I understood everything in that moment. We’ll argue and make mistakes and you’ll probably growl at me a lot once you’re Changed. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you or love you, Tess. Never doubt my feelings.
Harding poured every ounce of emotion he had behind his words, praying that she believed him. Nothing mattered beyond her. Not his past or hers, not their fears or worries about the future. Nothing.
Shining tears formed in her eyes, the moisture increasing until two tears trailed over her cheeks. He brushed one then the other away with his free hand.
“Sweet, don’t cry.” His voice was hoarse with his own tears fighting to manifest.
Tess sniffled and leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm as if she were already a cat scenting her mate. She must have caught his thought because she stiffened, eyes intent on him. “What if I’m not a cat? What if I’m a polar bear like Alistair?”
Harding grinned. “Then we’ll have kittens and cubs to love.” He used their entwined fingers to tug her closer. “And we’ll love them so much, sweet. Nothing will make us turn our backs on them. Nothing will tear them from our arms, and our pride will adopt them as their own. We have a family here, Tess. You just need to open your heart a tiny bit, and you’ll see it, too.”
Tess’s expression changed, shifting from happy to sad to worried, and then to a deep resolve. He sensed her growing love for him, the feeling giving him hope, along with a hint of apprehension that lingered near. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. She pushed to her feet, not releasing his hand, and she tugged on him, urging him to stand.
Harding went easily, wondering what his mate had suddenly decided. He refused to let a kernel of hope grow in his heart. They’d been taking things excruciatingly slow, and he didn’t want to entertain the idea that their relationship was about to take a flying leap forward.
Only, with her next few words, he realized he should have let that hope blossom into full-blown joy.
“I think it’s time to mate, Harding. I want to learn to love you and I want kittens and cubs and…” Two more tears trailed over her cheeks. “And I want a family who will love us all.”
Chapter Eleven
“There is nothing better than awesome sex. Actually, there is: Awesome sex twice.” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride and awesome sex addict.
Tess had either made the biggest mistake of her life, or the most wondrous decision of her twenty-six years and on to forever.
At Harding’s wide smile and sudden, crushing embrace, it hit her that her choice had been the right one. His hands roamed her back, palms sliding along her spine, teasing the top of her ass, and then returning to her shoulders. He gripped her upper arms and put a tiny bit of space between them. She raised her gaze to clash with his.
“Are you sure, Tess? We can wait.”
Oh, he didn’t want to wait. She could read it in every line of suppressed need in his body and the thrumming arousal that emanated from him in waves. Harding wanted her—desperately—and she realized they were on the sam
e page.
Already her body prepared for him, her pussy aching and heavy with need and growing damper by the second. Even her human nose caught the scent of her arousal, her desire permeating the air around them.
She put every ounce of sincerity, want, and need she possessed into her response. “I don’t want to wait. I want to be yours, Harding. Right or wrong, good or bad, I want to be yours.”
Their focus remained intent for one heartbeat and then another before Harding grasped her hand and lead her further down the hallway.
To his den.
His rapid pace didn’t allow her to become nervous, didn’t let a hint of worry sneak into her veins and stall their progress. Before she knew it, they stood within the master bedroom, surrounded by muted, masculine colors and massive hardwood furniture. It was a man’s room. Her man’s room.
Soon to be theirs.
Her soon-to-be mate turned to her, hands hovering over her shoulders, and she saw a hint of trepidation within him. “Tess…” He released a barking, mirthless laugh. “I don’t know where to start.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “I’ve never done this before, so I’m sure you know more than I do.”
“Never…” Shock covered his features.
She shook her head. “No. I was never,” she turned her head to stare at the wall and blinked back her tears. She had never and yet so, so many had. “I was never raped, and I never trusted anyone enough to let them into my bed.”
With a growl, he was on her, turning her head and sealing his mouth to hers, tongue invading her.
Tess wound her arms around his neck and wiggled nearer, fighting to be as close to Harding as possible. She needed to be on him, in him, wrapped in his arms, and she never wanted him to let go.
Their tongues twined, dancing and tasting each other as their passion grew. This was what she’d been waiting for all these years. It was more than desire and animalistic need. She sensed love in every shift of his muscles, every stroke of his tongue over hers, and every moan that slid past his lips.
Those massive, gentle hands traveled over her T-shirt clad body, skimming her sides, tracing her hips, and then on to the hem of her covering.
