Paranormal Dating Agency: Her Dream Alpha (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Angel's Pass Wolves Book 1)

by Monica La Porta

  “Really?” Celeste cocked her head, her big eyes wide.

  “Truth.”

  “What about your girlfriends?”

  “The last one I had was a decade ago.” Until yesterday, the mere mention of Jean would’ve hurt like a bitch. After this morning’s encounter, he felt only relief. He had dodged a bullet the size of Alaska.

  “And you never had anything serious after her.”

  “No.”

  “Oh,” Celeste said, slightly moving away from him.

  Milan grabbed her elbow, anchoring her to him. “I don’t know what this thing between us is, and I don’t care. I only know that I want you as I’ve never wanted anyone before.”

  Celeste’s eyes widened even more, if possible. She couldn’t know that the most surprised of the two about his confession was Milan. Until he had voiced the thought, he hadn’t realized that not even Jean had ever stirred his senses as Celeste had done in a matter of a few hours.

  “When you ran up to me out there in the trail, I was looking for you. I couldn’t sleep yesterday and kept thinking about you. This morning, I left the house with the sole purpose of finding you, hoping that you hadn’t already left. Kurosawa’s shenanigans made me waste time but—”

  “We found each other again,” Celeste said. “That’s all that matters.”

  Milan kissed her, pulling her onto his lap as he sat. She straddled him and lowered herself onto his hardness that hadn’t grown soft yet. He released the reins of the act to Celeste, letting her decide the pace. She leisurely rocked against him, widening her legs to let him deeper inside her. They slowly made love, caressing and kissing each other, taking their time to coax his groans and her moans. He held on to his pleasure, making sure Celeste would reach her orgasm first. Only when she slumped against his chest, spent and satisfied, did he pump into her tight sheath one last time, finding his own sweet release.

  Afterward, they remained silent, he still inside her, his arms around her back, tracing lazy circles on her skin that glistened with sweat.

  The spot where her shoulder and neck met drew Milan in like a magnet. He leaned in to latch his lips to her feverish skin. Celeste whimpered and tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her throat. With a soft cry, she pressed her breasts against his chest, her pelvis grinding hard against him, awakening him once again.

  His tongue lavished her flesh, priming it for his bite. His fangs lowered.

  His wolf roared, demanding he mark Celeste as his mate.

  Startled, Milan raised his head and hugged her tighter, lest she see the confusion in his expression.

  He had been so close to claiming Celeste as his in the way of the wolf.

  14

  Hiding her shattered expression from Milan, Celeste shivered when he gently grabbed her by the waist and raised her. He slowly slid out of her before settling her back on his lap.

  Even though they were still hugging, she felt his absence inside her right away. It was disconcerting to feel such profound emotions for someone she had just met. It was even more disconcerting that, not even a moment ago, she had wantonly offered him her throat.

  For a werewolf, offering throat to a sexual mate meant lifelong commitment. It was more binding than mortal marriages, and not a ritual to trifle with. Every she-wolf was raised with the knowledge that one day she would find that special someone who would mean everything to her. Then, and only then, she would offer her throat to her mate. One simply didn’t roll and show her belly to the first wolf, so to speak.

  Royce had pressured her more than once to let him bite her.

  “I want to show the rest of the world you are mine,” Royce had said. “I want to mark you for everyone to see.”

  His constant requests had initiated the fights that changed the fairy tale into a nightmare during those horrible last days before she ran away.

  With Milan, it had felt right, though. His sudden distance smarted even more because of that.

  “I need to let Kurosawa out,” Milan said, kissing her shoulder before helping her up. “But there is time for a shower first.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “You go ahead,” she said, hugging the quilt and walking away.

  Milan grabbed her elbow. “Is everything okay?”

  Celeste wasn’t one of those women who used passive aggressive answers like a shield and opted for a redacted truth. “I need a moment by myself.”

  “Okay,” Milan said, holding onto her a moment longer before letting her go. “You can use the shower first if you’d like.”

  “That’d be great. Thank you.”

  Celeste followed Milan to the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

  “Holler if you need anything,” Milan said before leaving her alone.

  Celeste stepped inside the bathroom. The miniature washroom used the little space at disposition, cleverly reclaiming every nook and cranny. Taking a shower together, as Milan had hinted not so subtly, would make for an intimate affair, which Celeste would’ve looked forward to until a moment ago.

  It took several minutes for the water to become warm, and by the time Celeste finally stepped into the barrel-shaped shower stall, her thoughts and emotions were all over the place.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, Milan took her in his arms, stealing her breath. He was still naked, and the sight of him wreaked havoc on her confused senses.

  “Please, don’t be mad at me,” he whispered hoarsely against her skin. He smelled of sex and of his own male scent that reminded Celeste of forests and rainy days.

  His words surprised her, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say to him. She closed her eyes and inhaled their combined aromas he was still wearing.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Milan’s voice was warm and tender, and it stirred something inside her. A sense of protection that was foreign to her.

  “It wasn’t just you—” She leaned away to look at him. “I offered you my throat without thinking. You don’t have to justify yourself. Nobody in their right mind would’ve accepted.”

  “Celeste, baby—”

  She brought a finger to his mouth. “There’s no need to say anything. I have no idea what came over me.” As much as she wanted to remain in his arms, Celeste stepped away. “It’s better if I get back to the cottage.” Inside, she felt utterly broken.

  “No.” Milan didn’t let her pass.

  Towering over her, he walked her against the wall. When she looked at him, her heart slammed against her ribcage. The desperation in his black eyes mirrored the pain building inside her.

  “No,” he repeated as his mouth descended on hers.

  His kiss was raw, primal, and conquered her soul.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he said against her lips. His hands were poised at her waist, his grasp possessive but not tight.

  Celeste could’ve have easily broken his hold. She didn’t, though. Instead, she pressed her still naked body against his.

  “I wanted to mark you,” Milan said, looking at her with his beautiful, black as night eyes.

  The shock of his confession hit Celeste hard and made her mute.

  Milan continued, “I wanted to sink my fangs into your flesh and pound into your sheath to make you mine.”

  His declaration stole whatever was left of her brain. Suddenly feeling weak, she sagged against him. Celeste didn’t need any man’s support, but she needed Milan the same way she needed air in her lungs.

  Kurosawa’s loud barks intruded in the moment.

  Milan cursed under his breath before saying, “He needs out.”

  “I’ll let him out. Take your shower.” Celeste nodded at him when he seemed to hesitate. “Go.”

  He leaned in to kiss her again, but Kurosawa started pawing against the door.

  Bumping his forehead against hers, Milan sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

  Celeste watched him enter the bathroom, thinking that, despite all her misgivings of a moment ago, she wanted to wash every inch of that
rock-hard body.

  Kurosawa’s high-pitched whines stopped her from following Milan into the shower.

  15

  Milan cranked up the shower jet to the coldest setting and plunged his head under the stream of water. It wasn’t frigid enough to soften his hardness jutting against his stomach. Nothing short of spending several days buried inside Celeste would help the matter.

  Like any hot-blooded werewolf, Milan had increased stamina and a lustful appetite, but never before had he experienced the overwhelming need to mark a woman. Even now, under the punishing icy shower, his body ached for Celeste’s softness.

  She had burrowed inside his chest, filling a place he thought would remain forever vacant.

  His hand closed around his hardness for a hard stroke that only frustrated him. A moment later, he exited the bathroom, water dripping all over. He grabbed a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, pulled on his sneakers and left the cottage, looking for Celeste.

  Kurosawa’s excited barks led Milan to her a few minutes later.

  Celeste was playing with the dog. “Who’s a good boy?” she asked, throwing a long stick in the air in Milan’s general direction.

  Milan intercepted the stick. “We should stop meeting this way.”

  Celeste’s beautiful laugh resonated in the forest, warming his heart like a caress.

  Even when she wasn’t touching him, she affected him deeply. Everything about her spoke to him at a level he had never thought possible. Milan had always scoffed at his friends when they spouted romantic nonsenses about their mates. Now, he could see how the right woman could make an idiot out of a seasoned man like himself. What was truly astonishing was that he didn’t care in the least.

  He threw the stick far away, sending Kurosawa chasing after it. “Come here,” he said, curling his finger at Celeste.

  Running the distance separating them, she was at his side a moment later, all softness and sweetness pressed against him.

  “I still want you.” He kissed her hard, his hand on her generous rump.

  She moaned in response, opening for him, welcoming his tongue. They made out for as long as it took Kurosawa to come back.

  Milan leaned his forehead against hers. “Would you like to go out for dinner?”

  “I need to get back to my cottage first,” Celeste said. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’ll treat you to the finest dining experience this side of the Cascades.” He skimmed the back of her arm, feeling the goosebumps form on her skin. “Steak and wild mushrooms are a must at the Red Elk. All organic, locally grown or raised, and homemade. Their lingonberry pies are also to die for.”

  “Good, I’ve been craving pie since leaving Dallas.”

  A subtle ache gripped Milan’s chest. In one single sentence, she had reminded him that they were two strangers with separate lives.

  “You are going to be pleasantly surprised,” he said, lowering his hand to the small of her back.

  His gaze went to the spot on her neck where his mark would’ve been had they been a mated couple. She caught him, and the mood between them shifted. They had been playfully excited a moment ago, and now, they walked side by side in silence, his hand loosely touching her. Kurosawa ran back and forth, brightening the otherwise subdued stroll.

  By the time they reached her cottage, a beautiful sunset painted the sky in orange, pink, and fiery red. As she climbed to the porch, Celeste turned on the first step, and the riots of colors highlighted her auburn hair.

  Milan reached for a wavy strand, rubbing the silk hair between his fingers. “Stay longer.” His gravelly voice was low, and he thought Celeste hadn’t heard him, but then she shook her head.

  “I can’t,” she said, flying up the stairs and entering the cottage.

  He was behind her, followed by Kurosawa who took the staircase to the second floor as if it were his home.

  “I can’t see you go Monday.” He caged her against the wall, his mouth on hers as his wolf roared in his head to take her as his mate.

  She melted against him. “I can’t stay,” she said, her hand on his chest.

  His heart and his wolf fought against his brain, but eventually the brain won, and Milan stepped away from Celeste.

  “I’m going to change,” she said, eyeing the stairwell. “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time.” Milan admired her perfectly round rump as she climbed the steps and sighed in frustration.

  Whatever was happening to him, it was pure insanity. It wasn’t him to beg a woman to stay. Usually, it was the other way around, and his ‘dates’ never made it to his bed. And here he was, scaring Celeste with a request that bordered on crazy. He had to salvage the night before she would bolt.

  With his mind running in circles debating what was the right thing to do and what felt right, he waited downstairs in the cozy reading area within the bay window. Outside, people strolled by, enjoying the last sunrays of the day. A young couple took turns licking from the humongous ice cream cone they were sharing. Milan wasn’t a contemplative kind of guy. He didn’t notice cute couples. Still, the image bugged him, making him think about what-ifs, another activity he never entertained himself with. What was the point of wondering about a life that either hadn’t happened or that wouldn’t ever come to be?

  Celeste’s soft steps brought Milan back to the present. Kurosawa’s nails tick-tacked on the wooden stairs as he followed her down.

  When Milan turned, her sight stole his breath.

  The yellow sundress she wore hugged her curves, showing just the barest hint of her cleavage but enough to make him drool. A pair of strappy sandals accentuated her long, muscular legs.

  Milan’s wolf let out a powerful roar that resonated in his head for a few seconds before he could say anything. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Celeste blushed and briefly lowered her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Hungry?” He offered her his arm.

  “Famished.” Celeste hooked her arm with his as Kurosawa snuck between them, demanding attention. She leaned to caress his fur. “Who’s a good boy?” she cooed.

  The German Shepherd rewarded her with a satisfied whine.

  “What was he doing upstairs?” Milan asked, patting the dog.

  “Sniffing around.”

  The back of his hand brushed hers as he raised it. At the contact, a burst of pins and needles spread through his body. When he looked at Celeste, her liquid eyes stared back at him as her chest rose and fell fast.

  “Right,” he said. “Let’s get going.”

  The Red Elk was around the corner, but the short walk stretched forever in Milan’s mind. They didn’t utter a word the entire time, and he cursed himself for springing the request to stay in Angel’s Pass on her. What was he thinking? He wasn’t. At least not with his brain. The throbbing appendage between his legs had done all the talking since he met Celeste.

  She turned slightly, her attention caught by something on the other side of the street, and her floral essence wafted to Milan’s nostrils. His wolf threw his head back and howled. It wasn’t just sex. The chemistry between them was off the charts, but his wolf didn’t care about spectacular lays. His wolf only cared about his mate.

  A few steps from the restaurant, Milan gently squeezed her arm. They stopped, and he turned to face her. “Celeste,” Milan started. He needed to make things right again between them. “I’m sorry I spooked you—”

  “You didn’t,” Celeste said, moving closer to him. “I can’t stay but I don’t know how to walk away from this.” She gestured between them.

  “Then don’t,” he found himself saying before he could censor his thought.

  The miserable expression on her face mirrored his emotions. He inwardly cursed and gently steered her toward the restaurant.

  As they climbed the white portico’s steps, he saw a familiar pickup truck driving by. Jean was at the wheel, her face a jealous mask as her eyes went from Milan to Celeste and back to Milan. He i
gnored her and held the restaurant door for Celeste.

  16

  Dinner was delicious, but Celeste didn’t savor her food. She could barely hold up her end of the conversation.

  “Stay,” Milan had said, and she couldn’t help but think about it.

  His words played for her during the dinner while Milan tried to engage her in saying more than one-syllable sentences. Eventually, he, too, fell silent.

  The waitress came back, asking if they wanted dessert, and Milan pointed his chin at Celeste, leaving the decision to her.

  “No thank you,” Celeste said. It must have been the first time she refused a sweet treat at a restaurant.

  Milan told the waitress to bring him the check, and when they were alone again, he reached across the table for her hand. Celeste had been nervously playing with the napkin and jolted when his fingers brushed her.

  Instead of retreating, Milan grabbed her hand in his large one and squeezed. “Are you coming back to my place?” he asked. His dark eyes bore into hers. They were bottomless pools and sucked her in deep.

  Celeste knew that she should say no. Instead she nodded.

  Milan’s hard exhale touched her more than words could ever do. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  They left the restaurant and walked back to his cottage. His arm wound around her shoulders. He warmed her when she would have shivered in her cotton dress. But it wasn’t just the cold he staved off with his gentle touch. His nearness kept the ache growing in her heart from expanding into her ribcage. As it was, Celeste was dreading the moment she would board a plane back to Dallas. Home, where her life was. They had this night and tomorrow for themselves before thousands of miles would separate them.

  “What happened ten years ago?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  Maybe it was the realization that whatever she and Milan had, it came with an expiration date of less than two days. Maybe it was because she truly wasn’t a one-night stand kind of girl. Maybe because Milan’s scent already smelled familiar to her. It didn’t matter why. Celeste wanted to know more about him.