Wolf's Mate

by Celia Kyle

  She snorted. “Long? You can’t be that old.”

  Memories crept up on him, his past threatening to intrude on his present. He fought them off, but some things couldn’t be banished entirely.

  Declan placed the plate in the sink before he gave Abby his attention. “Baby”—he hated the way she flinched with that endearment, but it was another way for him to keep distance between them—“I was fifteen the first time I killed a man.”

  Abby pushed herself upright, opened her mouth and then snapped it closed. “I didn’t realize SHOC recruited so young.”

  “They don’t. I didn’t join SHOC until…” His voice trailed off. Declan tilted back his head and stared at the ceiling with narrowed eyes. He tried to remember back to the first time he’d met Birch. He ran his hand along his jaw, the rough scrape of his shadow scratching his palm. “It’s been about two years, now. They’d gotten word of my, uh, talents.”

  “You killed people,” she whispered, and he didn’t like the look in her eyes. Nothing good came from a woman with that sad, curious, and worried expression. Ever. “Why?”

  He shook his head and got back to cleaning up after himself. Just because he’d left home at fifteen didn’t mean he’d forgotten everything his mother taught him. “It was a job.”

  “A job? People hired you to…”

  He placed the empty plate in the sink before turning to face her. He propped his hands on the counter and braced his weight on the polished stone. “People hired me to fix their problems. Permanently. Sometimes quickly and other times painfully, but it’d be done.”

  “And you got paid.”

  “Well. I got paid well.” He didn’t try to hide the pride in his voice. It’d been hard in the beginning, but he and Pike had figured things out eventually.

  Abby shook her head, brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Today you rescued me.”

  “The wolf didn’t give me a choice today, just like it didn’t give me a choice when I was fifteen. It wanted, it took. A person, a life, it wants what it wants. When I worked freelance, it enjoyed the chase and the kill.” He sighed and ran a hand through his short, dark locks. “I took advantage of that.”

  “What kind of people did you kill?” Why did she keep asking questions? Questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. The only positive note to her line of questioning was that it did a good job of squashing his arousal.

  “The kind I was paid to kill,” he drawled.

  “Bad men? Good? Women? Kids?”

  The wolf surged for an entirely different reason, the beast snapping and snarling at Abby’s question. His eyesight flickered, colors dancing in and out of his vision while he stared at the woman huddled on the couch. His skin burned, the beast’s fur attempting to burst free. His arms and hands ached, paws pushing to be freed.

  “Never pups. Never.”

  “But what about their parents? Did you kill their parents?” Still Abby pushed. Still Abby taunted his wolf. He relished her voice, but not her words.

  “Dammit, Abby.” His gums burned, and he resisted the urge to bare his fangs at her. “I took the jobs. I took them, I eliminated the target, and I put money in my offshore accounts.”

  In their offshore accounts, but she didn’t know about Pike. She wouldn’t ever know about Pike as far as Declan was concerned. The less she knew about him—his life—the better.

  With a shake of his head, he got back to kitchen cleanup. He’d make something for himself later. When Abby was sleeping and not badgering him with questions that made his stomach churn.

  “How did you kill them?” Why couldn’t she just stop pushing? Why?

  “Does it really matter?” Because his mind didn’t want to remember that part of his past.

  “Yes.” Of course it did. Of course it’d matter to her. Sweet, sinfully sexy Abby with a soft heart and gentle words for everyone.

  He didn’t turn back to her while he tried to figure out what to say. Then he wondered why he bothered. He’d given her brutal honesty up to that point. There was no reason to stop now. “It depended on what the job needed. Whether they wanted an accident or to send a message. Guns. Hands. Poison.”

  “Bombs?”

  Declan pushed away from the counter and returned to her, his gaze on her eyes as he approached. Her eyes widened, pupils dilated, and her breath caught as she watched him move closer. Her lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them as if she prepared for his kiss, and then her natural scent teased his nose.

  She didn’t like him—what he did—but he knew she wanted him.

  He didn’t stop until his knees touched the couch and he leaned over her, one hand on the back while the other rested on the furniture’s arm. He leaned down, closing the distance between their mouths until his lips nearly brushed hers. It’d be so easy to capture her lips with his own, to snatch a kiss and drug her with passion. So easy…

  “I’m not a good man, Abby,” he whispered, and she swallowed hard. “I killed because I’m a selfish asshole. I saved you for the same reason.”

  Liar. The wolf’s growl consumed his mind, rolling over every other sound.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Which one?”

  “Did you kill parents?” The question seemed torn from within her soul, and he hated the truth he’d have to give her. He knew her past—knew how she’d feel about his answer—and decided it was for the best. Pushing her away was a good idea.

  Finally, Declan answered. “Yes.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Declan’s stark declaration sent Abby’s mind tumbling into the past. To a time when she’d been a carefree child with a sassy cougar shifter mother and a grumbling werewolf father. They’d been a study in contrasts until their last breath. Her dad snarled at anyone who got too close to his family while her mother rolled her eyes and ignored his growling. A cat and a wolf who had so much love…

  Was that why she was so drawn to Declan? Because he was a ferocious wolf who threatened her in one breath and then protected her in the next?

  Abby wasn’t sure. She also wasn’t sure if she wanted to examine her feelings for the SHOC agent any further. He’d answered her questions, stabbing her in the heart with his truth, and there was nowhere for her to run. He was the embodiment of everything she despised, and she couldn’t leave him.

  Shifter Operations Command wanted her—alive, at least for a little while and then who knew. Unified Humanity wanted her—probably dead.

  And Declan…what did he want?

  Bile churned in her stomach, the scents of smoke and burned flesh searing her nose while the memories attempted to overtake her: their small family sitting down for dinner, her father carefully helping her mother into her chair. They’d tried to hide it, but Abby had already recognized the changes in her mother’s scent. Abby was going to have a little brother or sister—wolf or cougar, she hadn’t cared.

  Then came a knock on the front door. Her mother’s smile as she rose to go answer and her father’s growl because he didn’t want her doing anything but sitting. When Abby tried to follow them both, her dad told her to stay put. If Mom ignored Dad she got a glare that lasted two seconds before he sighed with frustration. If Abby ignored Dad she didn’t get dessert for a week.

  So she remained in her seat and waited for them to return because there was a chocolate cake on the counter in the kitchen.

  She also ignored the manners her parents drilled into her. She was supposed to wait for everyone to be seated before eating. She figured that since they had been sitting together before her parents left it was okay to eat some macaroni and cheese.

  Abby had a mouthful of mac and cheese when her mother’s first cry reached her. She swallowed it right before her father’s roar shook the house. Her feet had just touched the floor when his yell echoed off the walls.

  “Run!”

  Then a deafening boom. The crackle of fire. The suffocating smoke. The darkness of the hidden closet. It’d kept her safe—protected—w
hile destruction consumed their small house.

  Then it was done and she was alone.

  Unified Humanity had rid the world of two shifters whose only crime was love and creating a family.

  With a bomb.

  “Do you want details?” Declan’s question snapped her thoughts from the past. “I can—”

  “No.” She shook her head to make sure he understood. “You’ve said enough.”

  More than enough.

  Declan pushed away from the couch and stepped back, his intense gaze a heavy weight on her shoulders. She looked anywhere but at him. The past still intruded, the events of those first few days after her parents’ deaths fighting for release. Mourning. Healing. Being sent to a godmother—a total stranger and seal shifter.

  “Then I’ll get you some clothes and you can rest.” He turned and moved to the bedroom.

  The bed in there was so large and covered in pillows and blankets, tempting her to form a squishy nest just perfect for hiding—safe and warm.

  Then Declan reappeared, standing in the doorway with his amber eyes locked on her. “I laid out clothes. They’ll be big, but they’ll cover you. Get changed and crawl into bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “We’re sharing a bed?” Was that excitement or worry churning in her gut? Maybe a bit of both.

  The color of his eyes deepened, looking more like his inner wolf. “I told you I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “But…” She licked her lips, mouth dry while her tumultuous emotions continued to beat at her. She didn’t feel any hint of anticipation about sharing a bed with Declan. At. All.

  The cougar told her she was a big fat liar from Liarton smack-dab in the middle of the great state of Liar-isiana living on Lying Avenue.

  “Remember what I said, Abby.” Heat lingered in his gaze, and the spicy scent of desire drifted through the room. He was hot as hell and he wanted her, but she did remember what he’d told her.

  He would only take what was freely given, and even then, she’d have to ask very, very nicely. Abby wasn’t ready to ask, so she kept her mouth shut and rose, padding toward Declan. He remained in place, amber eyes stroking her from head to toe like a physical caress, and she couldn’t suppress the shudder that slid down her spine.

  He didn’t step aside when she reached him, not at first. He simply stared, feral eyes missing nothing. He took a deep breath, eyelids fluttering closed, and then released it just as slowly. A rumbling growl followed, but it didn’t hold a hint of threat. No, it was a different kind of growl entirely.

  A sexy one. One that made her nipples harder and her pussy grow heavy with a desperate ache. Stupid wolf, she mentally grumbled. What right did he have to be all sexy and hot and fuckable and bad?

  Finally, Declan turned to the side to let her pass. Mostly. She had to wiggle past him, going into the room sideways, and…she sorta paused when she was halfway through. Mainly because their fronts brushed. Abby’s nipples hardened further, her clit twitched, and a knee-weakening wave of desire rolled over her. And she wasn’t the only one affected. Declan was just as aroused, his hard cock nudging her middle as she inched into the room.

  The moment she got past him, she strode to the bed and snatched the clothes he’d left out. Clothes that still had that stiffness from being new and carried the chemical scent of its originating factory. There was something else, too. Just a hint of…Declan.

  A baggy shirt and cotton pants waited for her—her bra and panties probably tossed in the bathroom garbage. Ugh, she was going to have slightly saggy, free-swinging boobs in front of God’s gift to vaginas everywhere. Gravity how I hate thee!

  She reached for the knot of her robe, fingers plucking at the tied fabric, and glanced over her shoulder at Declan. “Can I have a little privacy now?”

  He snorted and crossed his arms, feet braced shoulder-width apart. Right. He wasn’t leaving her. Why was she being all shy, anyway? She’d already been naked in front of him. What did it matter? Her cougar also reminded her she was a shifter. Nudity wasn’t a thing to get bent out of shape about.

  Then again, Abby wasn’t getting bent out of shape. She was just thinking about her actual shape and the cellulite on her legs.

  She huffed and focused on her next task. Declan’s robe was big—oversized—and she kept it on while she dressed underneath. She tugged on the sweatpants. Bottom half covered, she let the robe fall from her shoulders while she reached for the shirt. She wiggled into the top, squirming as she tugged it over her head.

  When she finally turned back to the big, bad, super-deadly wolf…all hints of teasing sensuality were gone.

  “What happened?” Dark gray fur slipped from his pores, sliding down his arms in a river of near-black strands.

  “Happened?” She frowned. “I…”

  “Your back.” He bit off the words, syllables muffled by the fangs now crowding his mouth.

  “Oh.” She grimaced. My back. She twisted her lips in a rueful smile. “That.” She shook her head. “It was a long time ago.”

  “How long?”

  Abby ran her palm down her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Why didn’t you heal properly?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Really, how long did it take a guy to get a clue?

  “It does fucking matter!” The whole house shook with the strength of his yell, the ground trembling as the echoes filled the air. His face flushed red beneath the peppering of dark fur. His muscles tensed and veins bulged beneath his taut skin.

  Okay, maybe it didn’t matter to her—the cougar called her a liar—but it obviously bothered Declan. Since she really didn’t feel like dealing with a feral wolf, she went to him, steps slow and careful. She moved as if she approached a natural predator—an animal rather than a shifter male. She reached for him, palm gently coming to rest on his bare chest.

  Short strands of midnight fur tickled her fingertips, proof of his tenuous control of the animal inside him. “Declan,” she murmured. “I’m fine.”

  “Who did it?” The words were a garbled mess, his inner wolf making it difficult for him to speak.

  “Unified Humanity.” That old pain struck her heart, but she pushed it back. “They blew up my home.”

  “Bombs.” Hardly more than a mumble. A question and statement in one.

  “Yes.” She pushed the word past the strangling knot in her throat.

  “Wanna see.” The wolf still had control as he forced her to turn, amber eyes brighter than ever.

  “Declan…”

  He grunted and simply tugged on her shirt while he encouraged her to turn. He pulled it up to reveal her back. She sighed and helped, drawing it higher to show him everything. Claw-tipped fingers ghosted over her skin, the sharp tips teasing her scarred flesh while he explored her back.

  He said nothing while he looked her over—traced each twisted knot with his fingertips. Then his touch disappeared, and she bit back the whimper that threatened to escape. She missed the feel of his skin on hers.

  There was definitely something wrong with her. One hundred percent. She wondered if they made pills for Stockholm syndrome.

  Moist, warm breath bathed her back, and Abby froze, not moving a muscle while Declan…His lips brushed her back, low and just above the edge of her sweatpants. It was the worst scar out of them all. Being confined in such a tight space while her cougar had fought to heal the damage had resulted in some ugly, twisted scar tissue.

  He moved on, teasing another spot just above her hip on her left side. The kiss wasn’t meant to incite passion. It was almost reverent.

  The werewolf who proclaimed to be so deadly, dangerous, and unfeeling now gently touched her as if she’d shatter at any moment. Another kiss, this one to the right, a long, thick line that still gleamed shiny white even after so many years. He continued, and she closed her eyes, imagining more than six feet of violent male kneeling behind her—co
mforting her?

  He didn’t caress her. He kept his hands from her body, only his mouth learning the uneven plane of her back. Warm lips. Moist breath. The scent of the clean forest at dawn. It called to her cougar, luring it forward while lulling it into a restful calm.

  His travels continued higher, not stopping until his lips finally rested at the base of her neck. She didn’t have any scarring there—her cougar had been able to heal that part of her. But it was like he sensed the damage had extended beyond that twisted part of her.

  Because it had.

  Declan’s careful handling brought tears to her eyes and she blinked them away, unwilling to break down. She hadn’t cried when she’d been shot. She wasn’t about to start now over mere memories.

  Declan murmured against her unblemished skin. “I’ll kill them.”

  Abby shook her head. “It was a long time ago. I don’t even know who it was exactly. I just know it was them.”

  “I’m a very good hunter, sweetheart. Unified Humanity gave the order. I’ll find the ones who carried it out.” He still had his lips on her. As if he couldn’t force himself away.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “I can smell your pain.” Now a growl traveled from Declan to her. It slithered down her spine, and she fought the oncoming tremble. “You’re lying to yourself.”

  Abby chuckled and shook her head. “Maybe I am.” She shrugged. “But we don’t have time for me to burst into tears over something that happened when I was eight.”

  Eight years old and untouched by violence until that day.

  He stood, his heat moving along her back as he changed position. He tugged her shirt back down, and then two thick arms wrapped around her. He cradled her in his strength, almost like a living, breathing wall of protection. “Why didn’t your cougar heal everything properly?”

  “Because after I was hurt, I hid like I’d been taught.” She closed her eyes. Those stupid tears were really determined now. “I stayed curled up in a cupboard for two days. My cougar healed what it could as it could, but the position and tight quarters…”