My cock twitches when I look up to see her watching my fingers run across her body. She continues to watch as I slowly move my fingers up to the spot where the second wound had been. I grow harder at the sight of her eyes darkening. She isn’t breathing, and by the time my finger finds the spot, tiny little bumps cover her body. Before I can do anything more, she lets out her breath, shifts to stare at her arm where the were scratched her.
The scratch has faded a great deal, which tells me she has been changing for a while now. Her eyes widen in surprise and glee to see nearly smooth skin. In another quick motion, she hikes her leg up on the counter and looks to her inner thigh. I nearly explode in my pants at the sight of her panty-covered sex.
“Damn it,” she whispers, breaking my gaze from the spot.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says and starts to lower her leg.
I grab her bag and bend it to see what she had been examining. Just inside her thigh are a number of circled scars that obviously came from a cigarette.
“Mother fucker,” I say, moving my hand to the marks. I know exactly how she got them.
Before I can touch the marks, she pushes my hand away, lowers her leg, and tells me to go call my parents while she pees and brushes her teeth. I don’t hide the look of anger, disappointment, or desire that is all over my face. I don’t miss the same look on her face. Her expression quickly shifts from wanting to resolve. She wants me; she just doesn’t want to want me.
After breakfast, Mom comes over to examine her, and the rest of the day Abby makes it a point not to be too close to me and to keep her body covered. I’ve seen a number of her scars. Some could be explained away as mere accidents, but some are obvious. Over time, she told me some of what he did to her, but I have a feeling there is a lot more she is keeping to herself. I don’t push her. She’ll tell me in time.
In order to avoid me, she goes to work early, and works until her eyes are unfocused and her wrists hurt. I do the same. First picking up the house, something she usually fusses at me for doing, then I answer some business e-mails and look over contracts and designs.
Around five, she shuts down her computer and announces that she is making chicken and mushroom fettuccine for dinner. I’m not necessarily a big pasta fan, so I tell her I’m going to put a steak on and ask if she wants one. I know she doesn’t, just as she knows a simple steak will not be enough for me and that I will help her demolish the fettuccine.
An hour or so later we were sitting in front of the television, eating our dinner, and watching television. Thursday nights tended to have a number of different shows she likes. Some shows she watches and others she records. I had only watched one or two of them before meeting her, but the others she likes are slowly growing on me.
At nine, she kicks me out of the living room so that she can do her hour on the treadmill. She refuses to let me watch her on the machine, even in cat form, which is what I shift into out of pure boredom when she sends me to the bedroom. I don’t leave her bedroom until I hear the water in the bathroom running.
Still in cat form, I hop off her bed and head into the living room. Sebastian is usually in there, and I’m in desperate need of someone to annoy. I come to an abrupt halt when I hit the hall. My eyes growing wide in surprise. Abby left the bathroom door open. I know she is getting used to me being here. She’s been doing things and wearing things she normally wouldn’t have with company around.
My favorite is the long t-shirts she wears to bed. At first, she wore shorts, but after too many mornings of waking without them, she gave up on them. She has a habit of disrobing in her sleep if she is uncomfortable or hot. Socks and shorts end up in a pile at the foot of the bed. Those long t-shirts end up high up on her waist, exposing her panty-covered bottom to me when she kicks the covers off.
Until tonight, though, she has continued to shut and sometimes lock the bathroom door when she is in there. Inhaling deeply, I force myself to walk pass the door without looking in the room. It is hard. Every part of me screams to go in there, to shift and join her, but I can’t.
In the living room, I find Sebastian balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa with his eyes closed. I know he isn’t asleep. He pays absolutely no attention to me. Gathering all of my pent up frustration, I take off running, leap, and knock him right off the arm. I want him to chase me. I need to disperse some of this energy and frustration that is filling me.
He only swats at my head and makes to walk away. I attack again. This time he gives chase. We stalk each other around the living room and kitchen multiple times. Every time he makes to hide or rest, I pounce. I rarely play with Sebastian when in this form and only do it when my emotions are all on edge like this. Yet, this time I feel worse. More agitated. More wound up.
In aggravation, he takes off down the hall, and I follow. All memory of the opened bathroom door isn’t gone but forced out of the forefront of my mind. Well, it is until I pass by the door and see her out of the corner of my eye. I halt my chase, and with no control of my body turn and walk back to the door.
I know I should move, should turn away, but I can’t make myself. She is out of the shower. She has pulled her hair up in a towel. Her housecoat hangs open. She has one of her legs propped on the counter. In her hands, she holds a lotion bottle. She squirts a bit into her hand, bends over, slightly places the bottle on the counter, and begins to massage the lotion onto her propped leg. As she bends, her right breast comes free of the housecoat along with part of her left. Heat floods me and my body begins to convulse.
A loud cat scream escapes my lips, and I fall over in pain. I hear her call my name but can’t respond. In a flash, my body is human, and I am naked. Not wanting her to see my erection, I disappear before she can step out of the bathroom to me, and reappear in her room.
“Dimitri.” she calls again. I can hear the fear in her voice, but I don’t acknowledge her.
I shut the bedroom door behind me, pull my housecoat off the hook, and wrap it around me before she enters. My body is still convulsing, and I feel like I might shift back again. I barely get the thing tied closed when she reaches me. I jerk my head up to see her rushing toward me.
She hasn’t even bothered to close her robe. The sight of her sends more convulsions through my body and pain into my groin.
“Dimitri, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, making to move pass her, but my hand moves across her naked stomach. I grip her side and bend over. Not necessarily out of pain but out of the shear fact that I nearly ejaculated from the feel of her.
I know I have a grip something fierce on her waist, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She puts one hand on my back, rubbing in a soothing gesture. With her other hand, she tries to turn me around.
“What is it? Is it your stomach?” she asks, trying to turn me and open my robe at the same time. I’m sure she thinks I’m hurt somehow. The convulsions have stopped, but my magic is still surging through me, violently. My body wants her. The wolf in me wants her. I haven’t felt the wolf in so long that it takes everything I have not to give her to him.
“I’m fine,” I say, turning slightly toward her. My idea was to move her, but if I stand straight, my erection will be obvious, and I can’t let her see it. “The pain is gone. I’m not sure why, but that shift was much harder than any I’ve had in a long time.”
“You sure? You’re still slumped over.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I start to move pass her but our bodies are so close that her breasts barely graze me. This sends a fresh wave of desire through me, and I bend further over, trying to force my body to calm. My free hands goes to my lower abdomen, pressing my erection into my lower stomach that way I can stand and move pass her.
This idea doesn’t work. Abby sees my hand and forcefully pulls open my housecoat. She only wants to see where I’m hurt. Her movements falter when she sees what she has revealed. She is stone still with a chunk of the housecoat and my wrist in one hand and her other str
etched out mere inches from my cock.
I can’t help but grow even harder at the sight of her looking down at me, her hand so near my cock. For a long moment, she does nothing, says nothing, then all of a sudden, she lets go of me, and as if she realizes her own housecoat is open, she hurriedly closes it, and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Her words catch me off guard. The pain in her voice pulls me to her, and I ask, “Sorry for what?”
“I didn’t mean to. I forgot. I’ll go get you the phone.”
Her voice is so low, I’m not sure I hear her.
“Why would I need the phone? It isn’t as if I haven’t shifted before. I know this one was painful, but I’ll be all right.” She doesn’t seem to have heard me.
“You’ll want Sam or one of the others. I’ll get Carlos to take me somewhere for a while.”
“What the hell does Sam have to do with anything?” I ask anger at her mention of Carlos saturating my voice.
She doesn’t say anything. She just turns slightly and steps toward the bedroom door.
“Abby wait. Where are you going?”
“To get the phone. I’m sure that,” she motions toward my crotch, “can be a bit painful. You’d probably feel better if you didn’t have to take care of it by yourself. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I should have told you that you could have women here if you wanted. I’m sorry. I...” She’s rambling. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her ramble like this.
“Abby. What are you talking about?”
She looks at me then, and I can see the tears that are two seconds from falling down her cheeks. “Sex. I’ve heard it can be painful for men if they don’t get a release. I was going to get the phone so you could call Sam.”
“Sam? Why the hell would I want to call Sam?”
“Or someone else. I just thought...”
“You think Sam gave me this erection?”
“No. I know why you have it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“If you know that you gave me the erection why would I want Sam?”
“So that you can rectify your problem.” Her voice is shaking as she continues to hold back her tears.
“But she isn’t the one who made me this way.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Call whomever you want. I still have to get Carlos or Devan or one of the pack members to come get me.”
“Why do you keep wanting to call Carlos?”
“I don’t want to call Carlos,” she spits. “He’s just the only one aside from Devan that I personally know who can pop in here and get me.”
“Why do you want to leave?”
“Because...”
“Because why?”
“Because I don’t want to be here while you fuck some other woman,” she all but screams.
“But I’m not going to fuck some other woman.”
Shocked silent by my outburst, she stands there for a moment not saying anything. “Okay, but don’t you want privacy to take care of it by yourself.” Her voice and body relax instantly at the knowledge that I’m not going to be having sex with another woman in her home.
“No matter what I do, I don’t want you with my brother or any other man. Ever,” I snarl.
“Why are you mad at me? I said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. I didn’t think.”
“I’m not mad at you. I just don’t want you with my brother. And why are you apologizing?”
“Because you’re a guy, and I shouldn’t have been... Shouldn’t be.” She motions her hand up and down her body. “I know you can’t help it. I know you’re locked up in my house with me. I just wasn’t thinking. I actually didn’t think that...”
“You didn’t think what?”
“I know men get aroused by nudity. You can’t help it. I just never thought that this would happen over me.”
“What, you didn’t think you could turn me on? You didn’t think the sight of you naked would give me the worst erection I’ve ever had in my life?”
“I know it’s because you haven’t been able to do anything in so long. You sure you don’t want to call someone?”
I can’t stand it anymore. She honestly thinks that even though she brought on my erection, it is really meant for someone else. She thinks so little of herself that she can’t even fathom that I would want her despite the fact that it is massively clear that I do.
I rush her, pinning her against the closet door. Fear clouds her eyes, and her tears finally spill over. Pinning her is as far as I get because for the first time since I was cursed, I actually feel as if the wolf is about to come out. I feel my eyes shift. Her intake of breath and the slight tremble quickly spreading through her body, tells me that she sees the change in me.
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “Please...”
“Please, what?”
“I didn’t know... I...you...” She moves to step under my arms.
“Don’t move.”
She freezes in a slight crouch. Her head facing my chest. I have to look down to speak to her.
“I...” she starts to say.
“It’s not you. It’s the wolf. I haven’t had control over it in months. If you run, I will chase. And if I catch you...”
“You will kill me?” she asks, looking up at me.
“No,” I say, reaching down and pulling her to a full standing position. “I could never kill you, but in the condition I am in, I might do something worse.”
“What could be worse?”
I push myself closer to her. Her robe falls open, and the towel on her head comes loose. I can feel the heat of her body, smell the scent of her arousal and fear. My cock twitches at both aromas. The movement causes the head of my cock to lightly graze her abdomen. She catches her breath. I growl as I watch her body flush.
I lean my head down so that I am whispering in her ear. “If I catch you, I will take you.”
She wants to be repulsed, but I smell how much she wants me to do just that.
“You don’t have to settle for me...”
“Stop,” I bark, making her jump. “Stop thinking I could want anyone else.”
She jerks her head in my direction in genuine shock, bringing her face-to-face with me. Our lips are nearly touching. I can smell her toothpaste and another scent. One that is all her own. Instinctively, I step closer, and our bodies touch. I reach up with my left hand to push her robe off one shoulder, then the other. The robe doesn’t move far, stuck between her body and the door.
“You don’t have to do this,” she starts.
My right hand comes up, slides across her cheekbone to the back of her head, and pulls her to me. When our lips meet, the spell breaks. The feel of her lips on mine is more than I can imagine or explain. She is warm and soft, and she engulfs all of my senses.
Upon request, she parts her lips and lets me inside. The taste of her is delicious.
I let my right hand pull her even closer to me, creating about an inch between her and the door. Moving both hands down her neck and across her shoulders, I try again to remove her robe, this time succeeding.
When her hands are free from the robe, she reaches up and places them on my hips. Her touch burns, and I growl.
Moving my lips from hers, I kiss across her chin to her right ear and down her neck. She moves her hands up my sides, across my chest, up to my shoulders, and pushes my robe down. I let it drop free. Before it hits the ground, I wrap my arms around her waist, pick her up so that we are perfectly aligned, and press her against the door.
She wraps her arms around my neck, running her hands through my hair and down my back. Everywhere she touches tingles, burns.
I kiss her harder, fiercer. I feel as if I could devour her. With effort, I make myself release her mouth. I kiss down her neck and bury my face there, breathing heavy.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. She deserves to have someone take their time with her. To love her. I’m going to have to control myself, despite how damned hard that will be. I have wanted her for far too long.
I feel
her arms go slack around mine. She removes them from my hair and off my neck to settle lightly on my forearm. Her hair whispers across the top of my head as she turns to face the wall to our left. The entire length of her body that lies against mine goes limp, resigned. If I were human, she would feel like dead weight in my arms. She makes no sound, but I know something is wrong.
My apology. She has misinterpreted my fucking apology.
“Abby, I...”
“It’s okay, put me down.”
I lift my head and look at her face. She is hiding behind her hair. I tighten my right arm around her, shifting all of her into that arm so that I can use my left hand to get her attention. I tuck the strand of hair that is blocking her face from me behind her ear. Huge tears are running down her cheeks.
As gently as I can, I try to turn her face to me. “Abby.”
“Don’t. Just let me go.”
More forcefully this time, I turn her face to me. “Look at me.”
“Why?” she snaps. She is facing me, but her eyes look away.
“Because I asked you to.”
“I’m giving you an out, take it.”
“I don’t want an out. I want you to look at me, damn it.”
She jerks her hard gaze in my direction this time.
“I wasn’t apologizing for kissing you.”
“For what then?”
“I was apologizing for going too fast. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long that the feel of you overwhelms me.”
She looks doubtful.
“I know you don’t believe me. I know you are damaged and that it will take me a long time to prove to you that I really want you, but I do want you. I want every part of you. I want to make love to you right now.”
She doesn’t believe me. She probably thinks that I’m only doing this because it has been months since I’ve had a woman, but that doesn’t stop parts of her from reacting to me, to my words.
“Please let me. I can’t promise that I will go slow. That I will take my time to taste every inch of your body, at least not this time. But I promise not to hurt you.”
Shifter Page 20
