by MJ Compton
“Thank you for taking in my sister.” Abby knew her words meant nothing to him, but she had to express her gratitude. If they were going to make this work . . .
Luke sighed. He ran his fingers through his blond curls. “Look, we didn’t start out on the right foot, and I doubt we’ll ever—I’m trying to make the best of our situation. There are some things that make me crazy. Hitting women and kids is right up there. Makes us all crazy. I would no more leave your sister in that situation than I would run her over with a bulldozer. Same thing as far as I’m concerned. So don’t be thanking me for doing what’s right.”
“You mean like marrying me.”
“I got you pregnant. I messed up.”
“So marriage to me is your punishment.” At least she managed to keep the warble out of her voice.
His look was sharp. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
She knew he wasn’t being completely honest, but at least he wasn’t blaming her. She’d asked him about using a condom. She hadn’t been trying to trap him. He was man enough to take responsibility for his bad decision.
They were in this together. Two people made a marriage. She owed it to her baby to make an effort.
“You don’t have to sleep on the sofa. I’ll take it.”
“I don’t think so. If Gary Porter comes here tonight, he’s not going to find you all alone and vulnerable down here. He’s gonna have to go through me to get to you, and I promise you this—if he tries, he dies.”
Another lame promise. Luke was so good at those.
Chapter 6
Muscle memory.
No one could have been more surprised than Luke when his penis decided it liked having Abigail in his bedroom. They were working together to change the sheets—she’d refused to sleep on the ones already on the mattress, and he didn’t blame her. They were disgusting. Abigail might not be his soul mate, but she was his wife and deserved better.
And his dick thought having a wife might be a good thing. Had to be muscle memory. He hadn’t tried any of the black market lifestyle meds in at least a month, and even when he had, they’d only worked the night of the Moonsinger picnic, so there was no other explanation for his erection.
Maybe being married wouldn’t be so bad. He could get laid. His cock liked that idea. He only needed to convince Abigail to get with the program. Pregnant females had sex all the time. When Tokarz and Delilah had first mated, it was embarrassing to be around them. Delilah had gotten pregnant their first time, too.
Abigail snapped the top sheet into place. Luke grabbed a corner and pulled it taut.
What would she do if he lunged across the bed at her and had his way? Might not be a good idea. But he could seduce her again. He was good at making women want him. And with Abigail, he might succeed in giving her what she wanted.
When the bed was freshly made, Abigail started for the stairs. Luke stepped in front of her. She tensed.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
She didn’t move. She was like the last rabbit he’d hunted: completely still, heart frantically throbbing, giving away her hiding place. Not good.
“It occurs to me that since we’re married—”
“You want sex.”
Her bluntness surprised him. It shouldn’t have, not after she’d called him on his filthy bedding.
“Well, we’re married. And things were pretty good between us before.”
“You lied to me, bit me, got me pregnant. Then you ignored me. Explain the good part to me, because I think I’m missing something.”
“I bit you? What do you think I am? A rabid dog?” He hadn’t bitten her. Absolutely not. He’d fucked her. That’s all. Apparently he’d fucked her silly.
Her fingers found a spot on her nape. “Right here. And sometimes, it tingles.”
She was confused. She had to be. He’d taken extra care not to mark her. Maybe he’d nibbled a little bit, but nibbling wasn’t the same as biting. Okay, he’d lost his mind a couple of times, forgetting everything except the miracle of finally having his cock inside a woman, but surely he wouldn’t have forgotten something as important as marking. She wasn’t his mate. Her pregnant hormones were making up stories. Songs. She was trying to write another song. Which reminded him again of his promise to replace her guitar.
But even her lie didn’t diminish what was going on in his jeans. Maybe his human blood was more potent than he realized.
“Tingles?” He stepped closer to her. She stepped back. They repeated the dance step a few more times until her legs were pressed against the edge of his mattress. Their mattress.
He reached for her, brushing the pads of his fingers against the spot on her nape she claimed tingled.
Abigail shivered.
“Does that hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He leaned forward until he could nuzzle her neck. “Here?” he asked right before he licked the spot. “Do you know what would happen if I really bit you there?” Not that he was going to tell her the truth. She didn’t need to know the finer points of werewolf mating. She was only his human wife. “You might think I’m a vampire, and I would be very offended.”
Ancient Ones, she tasted good. He wrapped his arms around her and nudged her enough so that she fell onto the bed. So much better than the front seat of his truck. More room to maneuver.
He let his instincts take over. He loved the process of seduction: the tastes, the scents, the feelings. And they were even better with Abigail because his cock was involved.
She didn’t protest when he worked his lips across her head until he reached her mouth. She even kissed him back. Luke pressed against her.
She flinched a little when he cupped her boob through her sweater. The fleshy globe filled more of his palm than he remembered. He’d heard pregnancy could make a woman’s tits grow. Sometimes a woman’s nipples got darker, too. He really wanted to check on that.
If his dick kept cooperating, this marriage thing might not be so bad.
He worked his hand under the soft knit of her sweater. Her bra hooked in front, so he didn’t have to fumble with hooks and eyes.
Oh, yeah. Her nipples were darker than he remembered. He had done that to her. He braced himself above her to look down at her beauty.
His breath caught in the back of his throat. “What the . . .?”
He tore her slacks away from her waist and stared. Her entire abdomen was a circle of bruises. Dark. Ugly. Fresh.
“What happened?”
He knew, but he wanted her to confirm it.
She reached for a pillow, but he snagged her hand.
“What happened? I’m not going to ask you again.”
The same wide-eyed fear he’d seen in her eyes when Gary crashed Granny’s birthday party greeted him now.
“Did your stepfather do this?” Rage rattled his bones. He could see that miserable— There were no invectives strong enough to describe the despicable—
“He tried to make you miscarry, didn’t he?”
Abigail jerked her chin. Turned her head so he couldn’t see her eyes.
Luke rolled off the bed. His erection was gone. His booted feet hit the floor with a satisfying thunk. Each of his steps landed in the center of the stairs. His truck keys hung in their spot by the door.
“Luke? What are you doing?” Abigail called from the loft. Her voice wobbled.
“What I should have done three months ago.” He would never forget the sight of Gary backhanding Abigail across the face.
Right handed, Luke thought. I’ll take that one first.
He’d reached his truck and was opening the door when a hand clamped his shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Restin asked.
�
�Business trip,” Luke replied.
“And leave your new bride alone?”
“What are you doing skulking around outside my house in the middle of the night?”
“Tokarz asked for volunteers to keep an eye on your place.”
“Good. So stay here and keep an eye on it.” Luke opened the truck door.
“What kind of business do you have at this hour?”
“Personal business.” Luke jammed the key in the ignition and tried to pull the door shut.
Restin held the door. “You’re not supposed to go anywhere.”
“Says who?”
“Tokarz.” Restin reached across Luke’s lap and snatched the key from the ignition.
“This isn’t Tokarz’s business.” Luke tried to retrieve the key, but Restin was too quick.
“Yeah, it is.”
Luke turned on his beta. “You saw her face, Restin. You met that son of a vampire whore. Do you know what else he did to her?”
“Smashed her father’s guitar. My violin was handed down to me from my father, his father, before him, his father before him . . . losing it would devastate me. Your mate—”
Luke wadded his fingers to keep from breaking Restin’s nose and jaw. “Wife. Have you ever seen what a fist can do to a woman’s torso? I have to kill him.”
“Why, if she’s not your mate?”
“She’s still a female. And she still carries my child.”
How could Luke explain something so convoluted to Restin when he didn’t even fully understand the distinction himself. And someone with no human blood wouldn’t be able to grasp—
Distraction. Restin was trying to distract him.
Restin caught Luke’s fist before it connected with his jaw. “For some reason, Tokarz doesn’t want you killing your mate’s stepfather.”
“Then my alpha is getting soft in his old age,” Luke snarled. “And my alpha hasn’t seen . . .”
Gary’s pounding on Abigail’s body was none of Restin’s business.
“I don’t need my truck to get to Oak Moon and do what I have to do.” Luke started unbuttoning his shirt. “In fact, thanks for reminding me I have two heritages.” He flung his shirt to the ground. “Sometimes I get so caught up in being the computer geek, the drummer, and the whipping boy I forget my other . . . talents.” He toed off his boots, aiming one at Restin’s left shin.
“I am your beta, here on behalf of your alpha. I forbid you—”
“That’s my baby, Restin, whether Abigail is my wife or my mate, the child in her womb is mine. And when its life is threatened in any way, it is my responsibility as a male in this pack to protect it. And I will maim anyone who tries to stop me.” He unbuttoned the waist of his jeans.
“My family wasn’t always omega. My grandfather did only what the Ancient Ones decreed when he took Granny to mate. For doing that, he was dishonored and re-ranked from delta to omega. We have accepted this, because we are loyal to this pack. But this omega-who-should-be-delta isn’t going to stand for anyone trying to murder his child. If that makes me disloyal to the Garniers, then you and Tokarz can banish me. Maybe my wife and I would be better off in the human world anyway. But do not try to stop me from exacting my revenge. Even Omega has honor.”
The heavy denim of his jeans dropped to his ankles, and he stepped out of them. His boxers followed.
The moon was low in the sky, ebbing toward renewing itself. Luke called on the Ancient Ones to help him. Shifting shape was never easy for him except on the night of the full moon. A shaft of golden light found him. He raised his face and let the goddess bathe him in her magic. Because the ability to change from man to wolf was magic. His wolf had been offended; his wolf would make things right.
Restin stepped back as Luke’s DNA started spiraling. Shifting felt like orgasm, something Luke had never known until he’d been with Abigail. The process took only seconds and was a complete rush.
He raised his muzzle to the moon and howled his thanks to the goddess and the Ancient Ones. The best part of being in Loup Garou was the ability to indulge in a little moon singing.
He turned toward his cabin. Movement in the upstairs window caught his eye. Maybe he should have told Abigail the werewolf stuff the way his father and Tokarz had strongly suggested he do, but distraction on distraction prevented the right moment. And in the long run, she really didn’t need to know.
He sniffed the air. His already acute senses were heightened even more. He would never have as good a nose as Stoker or hearing as keen as Hank’s or even Restin’s vision, but he was content. They couldn’t do the things he did, either.
With one last glance at Restin, Luke took off for Oak Moon and revenge.
No one was home at the sad little house on Silver Moon Terrace. Luke tried to pick up a trail, but there were too many scents for him to find a strand to unravel. Unfortunately, he couldn’t wait around for Gary’s return. Neighbors might not like seeing a wolf prowling the street, and Luke had no clothes to wear should he shift into his human form.
He returned to Loup Garou at sunrise. He paused a few moments to admire the pink and golden light. Abigail had looked like that once. It’s what had drawn him to her.
Someone—maybe Restin—had folded his discarded clothing and placed them at his door, along with his boots.
Luke lifted his muzzle and sniffed the air around his cabin. Abigail was still inside. One of the pack police was prowling around outside. Luke didn’t mind. As long as the beast kept Gary away from Abigail, Luke didn’t care who prowled the perimeter of his property.
He willed himself human. The process took a little longer in the daylight. Neither his father nor his Aunt Macy could change in daylight at all. He pulled on his clothes before stepping into his cabin.
Abigail was sitting on the couch.
“You’re up early,” he said. “Did you get enough sleep?” She sure didn’t look as if she had. In fact, she looked as if she’d spent the night waiting for him.
“As much as you have.”
So she hadn’t slept. He preferred sleeping during the day. It best suited all aspects of his life: the band, his werewolf blood, and his computer hobbies.
“Then we both need to catch some shut eye.”
“Where were you?” she asked.
“I was trying to take care of some business, but your stepfather wasn’t home.” Luke yawned and headed for the stairs. “Are you coming up?”
“Gary works the night shift at the brewery. You didn’t do anything . . . drastic, did you?”
Luke’s temper snapped. “Drastic? Drastic doesn’t even begin to describe what’s going to happen to him when I do catch up with him. In fact, let’s take some pictures of your face and belly in case I ever need to defend my actions.”
Abigail wrapped her arms around herself and huddled deeper into her oversized sweatshirt. “Part of me wishes you’d stop threatening and just kill him. But civilized people don’t do things like that. We just muddle on.”
Luke stalked to his computer station. “Who said I was a civilized person?” He fumbled around until he came up with his super phone. “Smile,” he said as he pointed the device at her.
Abigail turned her head. “I don’t like having my photo taken.”
“Then you’re the first human female I ever met who feels that way.” Honky-tonk angels loved selfies. His image was on super phones across the mountain states. “Look at me.”
Her lips parted. Her chest hitched as if she swallowed a sob. But she looked at him. “What about the inhuman ones?”
He walked around her, snapping photos from every angle. “Don’t have much to do with them. Take off your shirt.”
“What?” A tear glittered on her cheek.
Okay, maybe he was being too hard on her. “He
y,” he said, his tone consciously gentler. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t do anything. He’s the criminal. We need to take pictures. For evidence. It’s as much for your protection as it is mine. We are not going to let him get away with this. We’re not going to let him hurt our baby. So can you at least pull up your shirt”—a bright pink sweatshirt this morning—“and roll down the top of your leggings so I can record your belly? Please?”
Her mouth twisted.
Luke set his phone on the sofa table and plopped on the sofa next to her. He took both of her hands in his. He knew how to finesse women and he needed to put that knowledge to work on his wife. “Abigail, all I’m asking for are some pictures. For evidence. No other reason.” He hesitated before blundering on. “I’ve done some work for the government, so I know law enforcement likes hard evidence. Taking pictures is one way we can keep Gary away from you and Libby. Okay, I know restraining orders are worth more as toilet paper than for protection, but the important thing is that we go through channels. That we prove we tried to use the system.”
Another tear slid down her cheek.
“Oh, Ancient Ones, baby.” Luke pulled her into his arms. “Go ahead and cry. He hurt you so bad, and we’re not going to let it happen again.” He kissed the top of her head. She must have showered, because she smelled like his shampoo. He kissed his way down the side of her face; licked away the tears leaking from her eyes. When his mouth met hers, his cock was hard again.
This time, he was careful when he touched her boobs. Careful when he slipped his hand under her sweatshirt to toy with her nipples. “You like that, don’t you,” he whispered.
