by K. de Long
No. She knew nothing about the man, but she saw the appreciative spark in his eyes already. She had no doubt that if she stopped pushing back against him, for so much as a second, his wolf would carry the day and claim her, whether or not she wished to be claimed. Her wolf wouldn't be much help in turning him away, since the stupid beast enjoyed looking at Marrock a bit too much for her comfort, so it fell to her to be the adult.
She’d tell Marrock she’d changed her mind. Tell him the treaty could find a different binding ritual. Nothing, nothing, could be worse putting her future in a stranger’s hands. Already, her mind was dancing with the various wordings she could use to avoid making it sound like it was anything wrong with him or a lack of trust in his pack.
She sank into the water and shut her eyes, reciting the beginning of that speech to herself. She’d need all the confidence she could get. He just—he had a way of putting her on edge.
The way he looked at her, he could probably hear her blood rushing between her legs and her panties moistening. At the very least, she had no doubt that he could smell her arousal. After a transformation, the senses were…heightened. Sometimes for nearly two days afterward. She had no fucking doubt he was aware of the effect he had on her.
She’d need to keep her wits about her to not humiliate herself or her pack. It wasn’t fair for a man to be that good looking, or to have a voice like raspy, warm honey. Or hands so scarred and calloused, as if they’d be just as strong even with the world falling to pieces around him.
Damnit. She slapped herself mentally for letting her mind run away with her. That wasn’t gonna help.
She would keep it simple.
“Marrock, our alliance is strong enough without a mate-bond. And I’m of far more use to that alliance leading my pack and supporting those who’ve agreed to the truce. They’ll need backup to sell it to our own dissidents.”
Or something like that. She had time to think of the particulars.
Chapter 6
Liam grimaced as he opened his door. There was no sign of Tessa. She must be in her bedroom already. That was just as well to him. The meetings had run late and exhausted him, and the last thing he wanted was to play host to a thorny woman just looking for a reason to break their agreement.
He should have stuck around. He should have attempted to make small talk, attempted to make her feel at home. It had struck him the moment the door closed behind him. But at that point, it was too late to go back without undermining himself. He thought…he didn’t know what he’d thought. He’d thought she’d appreciate the space. That both of their nerves would fray worse if they were in each other’s hair too much. They’d be in each other’s hair permanently soon enough.
He gripped his hem to discard his shirt, only to stop when he saw the gore encrusting his hand. From when he’d shaken Tessa’s hand. He’d have to do something about that. He stalked toward the bathroom and shoved the door open with his hip, rather than smear the filth onto the door’s white-painted surface.
A second later, he realized the error of his ways, as he got a face full of warm steam and an eyeful of the last thing he needed to see. Tessa seemed to have made herself at home in his tub, her long limbs splayed, and her feet partway up the wall to push her breasts under the water. Between her parted legs, he caught a flash of chestnut curls and pink petals. His mouth went dry. But as his eyes traveled upward, taking her rosy nipples and the soft curves of her breasts, he couldn’t be irritated at her.
Tessa Lacroix was a motherfucking knockout. The scars only added to the beauty, added to his awareness that this was a woman used to taking care of herself. It contrasted with the serene look on her face, eyes shut, lips parted. As though she might have just finished touching herself…or might be right about to start. The contrasting softness and hardness made her somehow familiar to him, somehow more attainable than when she’d simply been his rival’s only daughter, a woman born to lead and accustomed to being treated with respect.
He was frozen in his tracks as every instinct he possessed demanded he drop his pants, climb in there with her, and claim her.
She sighed, a soft moan, barely audible, and arched her hips slightly to push her chest deeper into the water. Her legs fell apart further, and he watched a bead of moisture flow from inside her knee to rejoin the water in the tub. The temptation to catch it with his tongue was almost impossible to resist. She was exposed, so relaxed. He wanted to reach between them, separate her folds and give her a reason to moan like that.
His cock pressed against the seam of his pants. Fuck, Tessa was more than he’d bargained for. He hadn’t counted on actually being attracted to his loveless mate.
He should leave. Should back away, shut the door quietly. Retreat to his room. Pretend he hadn’t seen her. He took a furtive step backward, using all of the natural stealth he had at his disposal…
And her eyes flew open. They met his for a tense, infuriating moment, before she opened her mouth. “Pus-sucking corpsefucker! What the hell are you doing in here? Get out, GET OUT!”
The stream of obscenities followed him into hall, at full volume. Surprised laughter bubbled in his throat. He would just wash his hands in the kitchen sink. And apologize. Definitely apologize. And downplay just how long he’d been there, taking in her luscious body.
They were not off to a good start. Not at all.
He shook his head, straining to clear his turbulent thoughts. He’d need to tread carefully after getting caught ogling her like that. Or would she take that as a definite sign of guilt?
In the end, he hollered at her from outside the bathroom door, “I just needed to wash my hands. Lock the damn door next time,” and stomped to his bedroom.
He shut the door with a sigh, listening as another stream of curses echoed in his home’s otherwise empty hall. But his restlessness couldn’t be quieted.
As odd as it was, he wished he hadn’t washed the blood off his hands. His inner wolf was always calmer with the smell of the kill, and in its absence, he could detect traces of Tessa’s own musk, sweet and womanly. Not too pretty; it had an edge of dirt to it, the petrichor left after the rain. Beautiful and strong, just like the woman herself.
He almost liked the arrangement.
He could get used to breathing in that aroma. Just that hint made him want to storm back, scoop her out of the tub, show her she was his. Promised to him. Not entirely willingly, but still. He wanted to seize her hair, pull her head back, and lower his lips to her neck. Feel her pulse against his mouth, and inhale that scent, so strong, so perfect—
Damnit. His blood was up. It was a terrible time for him to be making decisions, much less ones that could affect his relationship with the stranger he was about to find himself bound to. He had to stay away from her until his head cleared, and his wolf’s demands subsided to muted gurgles in his subconscious.
And it was something to be aware of. She had an effect on him—too much effect. That could make her dangerous, if she was playing him for the fool. If Alder had intentionally saddled him with a poisoned pill or a honeypot, she’d take advantage of that.
He’d have to be careful around Tessa. He couldn’t let himself forget, for so much as a second, that what they had was a marriage of convenience. Nothing more.
Nothing.
Tessa hurriedly got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around herself. Her cheeks were hot with fury, burning from embarrassment. She seized her clothes and ran to her bedroom, praying that Marrock would have retreated to his room and would miss her almost-naked flight.
She tried to calm herself as she patted herself dry. It would be impossible to face him with confidence after that. Why the fuck hadn’t he warned her? Why had she missed him opening the door? One minute, she was chin-deep in the first relaxation she’d had all day, and the next, she was bared to his lust-darkened gaze. Her heart had skipped a beat and hadn’t evened itself out since.
And his chest, tanned and muscular, with a delightful ‘v’ shape leading h
er eyes down to the intricate tribal tattoos on his pelvis and torso. A line for every scar, for every battle won—a known tradition of the Nefari. She shivered just recalling it. If those markings were any indication, Marrock was not someone anyone wanted on their bad side.
No. She’d never be able to confront him if she kept thinking like that.
She had to do it fast, before it sank in. She didn’t bother with panties; she’d be going to bed soon enough. She just needed to be clothed enough to tell him to take her home in the morning. The pants stuck to her damp skin, but she ignored the discomfort. This had gone too far as it was.
Despite the rush, she put on a bra. There was no way in hell she wanted his eyes tracing her nipples. And if he looked at her like that again, they’d definitely pull into firm peaks, just at the thought of him.
You can do this, she told herself, though she couldn’t quite believe her own pep talk. He’ll be reasonable. He doesn’t like this any more than you do.
Only the look in his eyes had said that he did. That scared her.
What if Marrock didn’t want to let her go?
Tessa put the towel back in the bathroom. She wouldn’t cut a very stern figure with her hair twisted up in it. It was the last thing she could do to procrastinate on confronting Marrock. Each step from here on out would carry her closer to his door. She took them one by one, concentrating on keeping her breathing slow and even. She had to look calm and reasonable.
She rapped on his door and shifted from foot to foot as she waited for an answer. Had he fallen asleep already? It couldn’t have taken her that long to dry off…
The door eased open, and Marrock faced her in the crack. The light at his back traced a pale halo around his features. His face was shadowed enough that she couldn’t read his expression.
“What?”
In this lighting, she’d never know if he was eyefucking her again, stripping her bare, fantasizing about her—
Calm, Tessa. You can do this. “I-I think—”
Hardly an auspicious start. She swallowed. He cut her stumbling speech off. “Feeling homesick? You want me to find you a ride back, to go check on Daddy?”
Did he sound disappointed? In her? Or in losing the opportunity to sneak peeks at her while she was naked? She bit her lip until she drew blood.
“Cat got your tongue? C’mon, Tessa. I’m tired. If you’re trying to back out, just say so so I can take you back and get some rest. I’m sure your daddy misses you.”
Scrambling for time to think, she leaned on the door to widen it. Maybe if she could see him, it wouldn’t be this difficult. If he was as exposed as she was... “Can I come in? Just for a minute.”
He took his weight off the door, and she nearly fell as it leaned open. He gestured inside, hypnotizing her with the way the corded muscles in his arms shifted. She followed into the light.
It didn’t help.
The warm glow illuminated him, softening harsh lines and stubble until she yearned to run her thumb over his smooth skin. Up close, his mixed irritation and disappointment was obvious. Somehow, it felt as if she’d failed some test in his eyes. His gaze traced her up and down, as hers did the same. Shirtless, he was a treat, but he must have been getting ready for bed. His thick pants had been swapped for close-laying cotton pajama pants. She could hardly take her eyes off the way they draped over his muscular thighs and his—
No. No, no, no. Why couldn’t she keep her mind on track?
She didn’t want him to think her weak or cowardly. Didn’t want him to think that she’d fold the moment a man’s gaze reduced her to her body parts. If she left now, she’d lose his respect, and that of his pack. Him staring at her like that—he was daring her to be embarrassed. Knowing that he’d like that, she veered the other direction. Raised an eyebrow and leered at him, allowing herself to gawk at the bulge in his pants. His brows knit, and she traded her nonchalant look for a smirk.
“Actually, I just came to see if you had a spare toothbrush.”
Marrock’s breath hitched, his eyes fixed on her lips. To add fuel to the fire, she tucked her lower lip beneath her front teeth, and let it push forward. Her tongue darted out to trace the newly bitten skin. His lips parted.
Point, me, she thought.
“In the bathroom drawer. Did you really have to bother me with that?”
She was sure of it. His irritation was covering up for something. “I figured why waste time. After all, you’re master of the house. Why not just ask? We’re being civil, right?”
His look softened. He seemed to be about a moment away from reaching for her. All of a sudden, his proximity was unbearable. What if she’d pushed him too far? She’d already forgotten her original purpose in baiting him. It had been carried away by a wave of tingles when their eyes first found each other in the doorway.
“Thanks.” She beat a hasty retreat, backpedaling without a look behind her to find the toothbrush he’d mentioned.
She didn’t need to look to know his eyes were on the back of her neck the whole way out. She felt it, in the way the fine hairs on her nape raised.
Damnit, Marrock. Point, you.
Chapter 7
Tessa’s inner wolf wouldn’t let her rest. It felt like it was clawing her from the inside out, demanding she move, pace, explore, run, fight, kill, fuck. Really, it was the last part of that that was the most dangerous.
She’d always been told her stubbornness was one of her good traits, but it had never seemed more like a flaw. Why had she let Marrock goad her into staying? Oh, he’d been courteous, sure, but that tone, that condescension…it had gotten to her, and she wasn’t even sure why. It hadn’t helped that he’d been letting his eyes consume her body as though she was already his.
As she would be tomorrow, unless she pulled her head out of her ass and just bore his taunts on the trip home. Something about him just…got to her. It was unbearable, the idea of him teasing her for chickening out.
But what choice did she have? If she stayed, they’d be mated. She’d no longer be her clan’s lead female, no longer be someone to be feared and respected in her own regard. She’d be riding his coattails, arm decoration but nothing more. The whole thing seemed degrading; in the eyes of both of their pack elders, she was a goddamn toy, passed from one cackling boy to another. And she was expected to live with him? In this claustrophobic monstrosity?
Well…maybe if she could get rid of some of the goddamn pastel flowers, it wouldn’t be so bad. Replace them with something stronger, more jewel-toned. Something befitting the solemn way Marrock carried himself. Or was that why he’d left them there, for the contrast? So he could have something frivolous and silly for himself and not be judged for it?
He expected her to back out. Maybe that was why he’d avoided her. Why invest himself in making inroads with her when she’d be gone in the morning? If she left, the next time they’d face each other would be on opposite sides of a war room table. Had he expected her to reach out, to prove she was serious about making it work? Had she done something wrong in his eyes?
Tessa hated being so off-kilter. If she kept mechanically pacing like this, she’d wear grooves into the carpet and the finish off the wood floor. And fuck only knew how Marrock would react to that. The last thing she wanted was for him to interrupt her with such petty bullshit as, “You’re wrecking our house, and it’s not even yours yet.”
She’d thought it would be easier for Marrock to ignore her, for their arrangement to keep them as distant as possible. But the heat in his gaze and the isolation had broken her, reduced her far more effectively than had he been all wagging tail and roaming hands. At least then, she’d have had no problem putting him in his place, setting down some boundaries.
But no. He had to hold himself at a respectful distance…respectful so long as he was out of eyesight, unable to undress her in his mind as she squirmed and tried not to do the same.
She growled to herself, her voice reverberating in the home’s still expanse. If she k
new where he kept his mugs, she’d make herself some tea. But if she went banging in his cabinets, he’d surely come to investigate. She didn’t dare forage for a snack or get something to calm her roiling stomach. She didn’t dare leave to seek entertainment and stimulus to quiet the beast within her.
She was stuck here. And the decision had been made. Her father would be mortified if she returned home in disgrace, putting her back to the union that could save her pack. She’d be stripped of her rank and become the laughingstock of her clan, unable to uphold something that even the most basic bitch could handle. This role was below her, but bowing out would put her below the lowest of the low.
Fuck.
She had to stay. Find something worthwhile here to keep her sane as the war played out around her.
She’d be okay so long as Marrock left her alone. She’d protect her family and live up to her people’s expectations. She’d hold her distance and ignore her thrumming heart and the temptation of his hard body.
With leadership came sacrifice. She’d always expected hers would be more literal. She’d expected to die on a hunt, taking down a creature that would harm her pack. She’d expected to die in battle.
She’d never expected to die in a stranger’s arms, with his scent on her.
Liam knew every sound in that old house by heart. His mother’s footsteps might no longer whisper over the tiling in the kitchen, but he knew every sound they’d been replaced with. Only now, his very lair was alien. The wood creaked and settled in ways it never had. The carpet hissed under someone else’s light steps.
He hated it. And he hated that he knew the cause.
Tessa hadn’t attempted to hide her dislike for him. Worse than that, her fear of him. She’d stalked away, her wet hair swishing against the small of her back and her full hips. He’d been riveted by the way it slapped against the curve of her ass. But the sway in her walk, and her tantalizing curves couldn’t sooth the pang that had struck him at her antipathy toward him.
