Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood)

by Sasha Summers

  He gripped the marble counter on either side of her, pinning her there—warm and soft against him. Big mistake. Every inch of him hardened with craving. “No. I’m not done with my glass,” he ground out the words.

  “More water?” She reached behind her, the action pulling her tank top tight against the full swell of her breast. No bra. Only thin cotton. The tip jutted up, tight. For him.

  “No,” he snapped. He didn’t want water and she knew it. There was no missing the throb of his erection pressed against her belly.

  “No?” she repeated. “Then you don’t need your glass?” Her bravado slipped when her gaze fell to his mouth.

  “Dammit.” He growled, his lips descending on hers before he could stop himself.

  Her lips parted instantly beneath his, stealing his breath and making him sway into her. How she managed to shift onto the counter he didn’t know. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging fiercely. He wasn’t sure who was kissing who, but her tongue stroked his and he no longer cared.

  This was all he wanted.

  Her teeth nipped his lower lip, driving him on. Her breast overflowed his hand. Soft, so soft. With a brush of his thumb, she arched into him, grinding herself against him. One hand gripped her hip. The other savored her breast. His mouth along her neck, the rake of his teeth along her skin making her shudder. He wanted this, wanted her.

  A growl snapped him out of it. He’d growled.

  He released her and stepped back, panting. What the hell was that about? Heat singed his skin, turning it thin and brittle. The hair covering his body stood straight up. The veins in his temple thrummed. The urge to touch her made his palms and fingers tingle. Everything felt off. He took another step back.

  “Damn you.” Her voice was gruff. Hands propped on the counter behind her, she stared up at the wooden beam overhead, her breasts shuddering and shaking in time with her ragged breathing.

  Hollis stared, watching every move. She was hypnotizing.

  “It’s unhealthy,” she muttered, still staring up.

  He cleared his throat. “What is?”

  She stared at him then. “Bottling things up this way.” Her gaze drifted south to the aching evidence of his arousal. “You want me. I want you.”

  Every fucking word was a kick in the chest, intensifying his discomfort. If only it was that easy. Nothing ever was. Taking Ellen to bed would be anything but easy. “Want doesn’t equate to need.” He saw her mouth open and quickly clarified, “Need as in necessary for survival.”

  She stayed as she was, breasts jutting out, legs spread wide. Her determination was admirable. “My wolf is likely to threaten your survival if you do this again.” One brow arched.

  He swallowed, tearing his gaze from her distracting pose. “I apologize—”

  “For stopping something we need?” she interrupted. “You and me. And our wolves. You should apologize.”

  He glared at her then.

  “Glower all you want, Hollis. When you touch me, I feel your wolf. The urge to dominate, to bite and twist me to your will? To make me groan. To claim me. That is your wolf.” She smiled. “Fighting to get out—to get to me. Let him out. There is nothing my wolf wants more.”

  He bit back another growl. Her words played through his mind. Ellen, beneath him. Fiery and passionate. He’d never dominate her, he wanted her as she was. But the biting and groaning and claiming? Hell, yes. That and so much more. Admitting that would open doors that needed to stay firmly shut—preferably padlocked.

  It took effort to dismiss the firestorm between them, but he did his best. “It’s arousal. Born from mutual attraction.” Even he had a hard time believing what he was saying. This was more than arousal. But to consider what she was saying, that their connection called to his wolf, was unfathomable.

  Her eyes went round, a startled laugh making her all the more beautiful. “I’ve lived a long life, had many…lovers, but no man has made my blood burn as you do.” She realized her mistake as soon as she’d spoken, he saw it. She paled, the taunting smile fading from her face as she slid from the counter. In the time she’d been with the pack, she’d taken care to measure her words to reveal nothing.

  This was one hell of a revelation.

  One with surprising effects. As a scientist, he tended to rely on facts and research, not instincts and feelings. But there was no fighting them now. Possessiveness thickened his blood, pumping through his veins until it took a firm hold on him. While he was forcibly holding himself from reaching for her, she was in full panic mode.

  Her gaze looked everywhere but his. From soft and seductive to stiff and pacing, she was agitated. Clearly, she hadn’t meant to say it. And, she was pissed—at herself, presumably.

  “I’ll pack. If I have to go.” But she didn’t look at him.

  Hollis cleared his throat. “You do.”

  Her hands fisted at her sides, but still, her gaze avoided his. “And who else is going?” Anger laced the question.

  “Mal and Olivia.” Now he was incredibly thankful for their presence. He never thought he’d need a chaperone to help keep him in check, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  She nodded, staring into the flames with narrowed eyes. “I would send Mal, too.”

  Hollis waited. But Ellen, as usual, didn’t elaborate. “Meaning?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are the ploy. Olivia is the distraction. Mal the last resort.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Or maybe he just wanted them to have a change of scenery, too? We can’t stay here forever. Olivia and Mal need time to figure out what their lives will be like outside the refuge walls.”

  Ellen spared him a hostile glance. “Be that as it may, Finn is sending Mal to make sure I don’t run.”

  She’d run? From him? His stomach dropped, lead-lined and cold. Pressure crushed his chest. He closed the gap between them but stopped short of touching her. “I won’t let you run.” The words were gruff and hard.

  She smiled into the fire. “You couldn’t stop me, Hollis. My wolf is too powerful.”

  It was his turn to smile. “Is she? Then I won’t worry. As long as your wolf wants me, I don’t have to worry about you running.”

  She spun then, the flash of fury in her eyes glorious. Even her solid slap across the face couldn’t completely erase his victory. He had the upper hand and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

  …

  Ellen had long since given up having control in her life, Cyrus had made sure of that. But that didn’t mean she liked it. Did she have control now, living with Finn’s pack? No. But she didn’t live with constant fear. Regardless of how they felt about her, she’d never once felt threatened or afraid of Finn and his pack. For that, she was grateful. And uncertain. All of her memories included aggression and violence, torment and abuse. So now, even knowing that was no longer a part of her life, her instinct was still to brace for the worst.

  They were leaving the refuge. She’d never wanted to be here, never acknowledged the sense of safety or peace it had given her. But it had. Even if its newness had also been slightly terrifying. While they kept an eye on her, they gave her certain freedoms. She’d discovered things like the internet, television, and phones. That a few clicks of a keyboard could give her the answers it would have taken her hours to find buried in books was incredible. But phones, were too much like a tether—invasive and obnoxious. She’d continued to lose hers, hoping Finn would give up on the idea of her carrying one. He didn’t.

  Cyrus would have punished her for losing a phone. He enjoyed punishing her. And dictating her days. From the food she ate to the clothes she wore, freedom hadn’t been part of her world.

  If her nerves were on edge and her wolf was skittish now—sitting in an airplane with couches and champagne, televisions and computers, overstuffed recliners and classical music piped into the spacious cabin was unnerving—she had good reason. Why did anyone need such extravagance on an airplane? Why d
id a person need an airplane?

  “Wanna lie down?” Mal grinned at his mate. He wasn’t suggesting a nap. “You know where the bedroom is.”

  “Mal, stop,” Olivia whispered, her cheeks going read.

  Bedroom? On a plane? Ellen curled into one of the chairs and stared out the window. She had no interest in flying. Or being trapped in something that would take her off the ground and into the sky. This took losing control to a whole new level for her. She ran her palms along her pants, wiping away the sweat.

  “You okay?” Olivia asked.

  She nodded.

  “You sure?” she pushed. “You look tense.”

  “She always looks tense,” Mal quipped.

  Ellen ignored him. “I’m still astounded by the excess of your pack.” She pointed around the cabin. “Is such luxury necessary?”

  Mal laughed. “Pretty sure the words ‘luxury’ and ‘necessary’ don’t belong in the same sentence.”

  Olivia pushed against his chest. “Finn is a wealthy man. His family owns Dean Automotive. And they have all sorts of investments.”

  “He works hard to stay that successful. There’s a lot riding on his success—beyond planes, big houses, and nice things,” Hollis sounded off, ever defending his Alpha.

  “Like all the latest scientific and research gizmos?” Mal asked, grinning at Hollis. “You’re saying Cyrus isn’t a fan of living things up? With all the black-market dealings and silent partnerships he’s involved with, he can sure as hell afford it.”

  “Can he? I’ve no knowledge of such things. I’ve only seen him spend money on useful things.” Useful things equated to dangerous things. Advanced targeting weapons and traps. Security to reinforce the numerous pack houses Cyrus has spread around the country. Things to make the Others deadlier and more fearsome. If he’d taken to buying fancy planes and technological equipment, he’d never told her.

  “What would that asshole consider useful?” Mal snapped.

  She bit back, “Not airplanes with bedrooms.” Mal’s arrogance made it easy to keep what she knew to herself.

  Olivia shot her a sympathetic glance as she pulled Mal aside. Once Mal’s focus was centered on his mate, he forgot Ellen’s very existence. She watched, fascinated by the change in the pair. The power of their bond was evident. Like Finn and Jessa. If all chose so well, their pack would remain strong and true.

  As long as Cyrus didn’t get to them. A remembered ache tugged at her chest. She’d glimpsed some of the Others’ arsenal, knew the time and energy Cyrus exerted to create truly dreadful weapons. Weapons he would gladly use on Finn’s pack.

  “What are you thinking about?” Hollis sat in the chair opposite her, his elbows resting on his knees.

  What would he say if she told him the truth? She worried over Finn and his pack. Cyrus’s latest creation—larger and more accurate silver-coated bullet. She’d had to help dig it out, a not so easy feat. Cyrus had her document its effects, tracking the patient and the wound. The tissue damage was so extensive it was hard to stitch. And now Cyrus was developing a syringe-like bullet, one that would inject a lethal dose of liquefied silver and cyanide directly into the bloodstream. There would be no coming back from that. If he’d figured out to make the plunger release work, the rounds could be in use now.

  But if that were the case, Byron would have used them on Brown and Tess. Thankfully, he hadn’t.

  Telling Hollis or Finn about Cyrus’s plans—his weapons and reinforcement and targets—would change the pack. Finn’s pack wanted revenge, but they weren’t consumed by it. They put family and pack first. Lived day in and day out as a strong and supportive pack. Knowing the details and lengths Cyrus was willing to go to destroy the family they’d created would tarnish what they had. But it would also help them prepare.

  They would need that. And, considering the way they’d treated her the last few months, she owed them the truth.

  “Ellen?” His hand stroked her forearm.

  His touch jolted her back to the present. And made her insides quiver. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me,” she muttered, curling farther into herself.

  He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re still angry with me about last night?”

  She glared at him, staring pointedly at his cheek. “There is no mark. I’ll hit harder next time.”

  He ran his hand across his jaw. “I’d like to avoid a next time.”

  Her gaze lingered on his hand. Big hands. Hands that cradled her breast and drove her to distraction. She pressed her lips together.

  “You won’t tell me what you’re thinking because you worry I’ll tell them?” He glanced at Mal and Olivia, wrapped up and whispering on the other end of the cabin. “That’s why you won’t talk to me?”

  She couldn’t talk to him because his proximity scrambled her thoughts into incoherent jumbles. “I don’t talk to you because I don’t want to.” She didn’t look at him. “You irritate me. Greatly.”

  He laughed. “The feeling is mutual.”

  She smiled but still didn’t look at him. “I know. I remember the feel of your…irritation against my stomach last night. It was quite impressive.”

  His sharp intake of breath had her glancing his way. His eyes were pressed shut, the muscle in his jaw working.

  Her fingers itched to stroke that jaw. “Maybe that’s what I was thinking about?” she continued, enjoying his struggle. “What would have happened if you’d finished what you started? You’ve strong hands. I like that they fit me here.” She cupped her own breast, watching his reaction.

  His eyes popped open, fixating on her face, her hand. His jaw clenched tightly.

  Her body warmed, aching for him. “And this,” she whispered, brushing her thumb against her nipple. “I didn’t want you to stop.”

  “Fuck,” he hissed, his hands fisting against his thighs.

  “Exactly.” She slid to the edge of her seat, easily within his reach.

  “Why are you doing this?” He forced the words out, pushing out of his seat. He paced, running a hand through his copper hair. His gaze darted around the cabin.

  Apparently Mal and Olivia had decided to make use of the bedroom. They were alone.

  His green eyes regarded her warily.

  “I thought I’d made it perfectly clear,” she admitted.

  He glanced at the floor, then the ceiling. “You like tormenting me.”

  “I’m simply offering you what we both want.” She scooted back in her chair and crossed her legs, the throb between her legs bordering on pain. “Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She sighed. “You won’t talk to me, but you expect me to talk to you?”

  His brows rose. “Pick a different topic and I’ll talk.”

  “It’s one way to pass the time. Question for question?” She pointed at the chair. She had things his pack needed to know. But she was curious to know what he’d ask. “But you first.”

  His gaze bounced from her to the chair. From the bulge in his pants, his wolf was still battling for control. Oh, how she wished the beast would win. But the set of his jaw, his thinning lips, and furrowed brow told her that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I can behave.” She grinned.

  “Then you can go first.” He sat, wary and stiff.

  Chapter Eleven

  It took focus to shut down the response she’d stirred…again. But he did it. If there was a chance she’d share information about the Others, he had to jump on it. Not her.

  She studied him, as if considering her options. When she finally spoke, he was surprised by her train of thought. “Besides trying to cure this so-called infection, what things do you do at your pharmaceutical company?”

  Talking work was easy. He sat, instantly more relaxed. “Generic vaccines that we can provide to countries in need and to those without insurance. Trials for cancer—that’s what this trip is about. We’ve done some stem cell testing that looks promising. Mi
nor tweaks might yield greater results. I want to be there for that.”

  “Really?” she asked, leaning forward.

  He grinned. “You don’t believe me?”

  She shrugged, smiling. “It never occurred to me that you’d be preoccupied with something other than curing what we are.”

  In the months she’d been with the pack, he’d rarely left the refuge. His overnight trips, late-night conference calls, teleconferencing, and data debriefs had gone unnoticed. Still, it bothered him that she thought this world was his whole world. “While the infection affects my life, it doesn’t define who I am. I want my work to do that.”

  “Work. Not family?” she asked, her gaze fixed on him.

  “My turn.” He sat back, rubbing his chin, considering his options. If he opened too strong, she’d shut down.

  His expression must have revealed his internal struggling, because she laughed. Laughter transformed everything. And her smile was magic, if he believed in such things. That was her department.

  “What precautions should we be taking against the Others?”

  Her nod was slight. “Finn has impressive security. I would worry most about Cyrus learning things like location and the members of your pack. If he knows that, he will find a way to infiltrate and eliminate.” She paused. “While you research your cure, he develops new weapons.”

  He hadn’t expected her to offer beyond what he was asking. “What sort of weapons?” A hard, cold knot formed in his throat.

  She shook her head. “How close are you to testing your infection cure?”

  He cleared his throat, impatient for answers of his own but knowing they were entering dangerous territory. Besides, he’d signed an NDA on this research. All RPR scientists had. Still he had to answer her. “Soon.”

  Her brows rose. “That is not an answer. Are we done then?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve begun testing already.”

  Her eyes went round. “You—on what?”