One True Mate 5: Shifter's Rogue

by Lisa Ladew

  His bedroom door slammed.

  Mac returned to the couch and plopped down heavily. This wasn’t going any better now that he had her in his home. Nope. It was ten times worse.

  Chapter 32

  He muted the TV and rubbed his face with his hands. “I give up, Bru. I’m gonna let her go. Maybe she’s safer without me. If Khain never connects her to me, to us, maybe she won’t be in danger. It’ll never work between us, no matter what. She hates me.”

  “Nah, wolf, she likes you.”

  “What? Are you even here? Did you hear what she said to me? Do you see how she looks at me?”

  Bruin leaned back against the couch and gave Mac an appraising look. “I’ve never dated a woman like Rogue.” He shuddered. “But it seems to me, like that would be foreplay for her.”

  Mac considered. But no, she was more extreme than any woman he’d ever met.

  Bruin went on. “You’ve dated women like her. Do they just fall into bed with you?”

  Mac rubbed his hand over his stupid new-beard again. He still hadn’t shaved that thing. “No, they like to fight first, or tease. Some of them make you excited just trying to get you to slam them around a little bit, maybe choke them.”

  Bruin’s eyes popped open wide and so did his mouth.

  Mac had to chuckle. “You’ve never choked a woman during sex?”

  Bruin shook his head. “God, no, do they like that?”

  Mac shrugged. “Some do. Some definitely don’t. That’s not something a male should initiate most times, but if she takes your hand and puts it on her neck, go for it. Follow her lead. Just don’t do it for too long.”

  The look on Bruin’s face told him the bear would never try it. Or probably never be with a woman who liked it.

  Bruin leaned forward. “What if you accidentally kill her? How would she explain that to The Light and the angels?”

  “Shit, B, I don’t do it that hard!”

  Bruin considered. “Mac, you know I’d help you bury a body, but not your mate’s. So I don’t think you should choke her anymore.”

  Mac slapped himself on the forehead, feeling almost normal, wondering for just a split second if the bear was playing up his innocence for Mac’s benefit. Nah. “Look, bear, I haven’t even kissed her. I don’t know if she likes that shit or not, but I can promise you if she does, I’ll never go overboard.”

  Bruin rubbed his own beard, mollified somewhat.

  Mac looked around, then whispered, “But if she wants her ass spanked, you can bet I’m gonna do that.” And fuck, his damn dick was throbbing again. At least he didn’t feel like throwing himself off the roof anymore.

  Bruin rolled his eyes. “Everybody’s got daddy issues. I swear, Mac, why can’t you have sex like normal people?”

  Mac snorted. “What, normal people like you? This coming from the Build-A-Bear virgin kit.”

  Bruin grinned and tried not to laugh, and Mac felt damned grateful the bear was there with him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this alone. Half of him was screaming that he was wrong for making her be with him if she didn’t want to be, but the other half was screaming just as loud that she was in danger and he could never let her go, would die if something happened to her. And it would all be his fault, wouldn’t it?

  Bruin lifted his chin. “Back to Rogue. Hasn’t she given you any sign at all that she likes you? Like something she can’t control. We know she’s got her emotions on lock-down, but can’t you just tell?”

  Mac frowned. Ordinarily he would be able to, but all Rogue’s yes signals were immediately covered with five or six or ten no signals. Like, maybe she did want him a little bit, but not enough to give in to him in any way. Like maybe he wasn’t quite her normal type, but she was hard up or something and she could be convinced. He frowned. He didn’t want to convince her. He wanted her naked and writhing and panting underneath him, and fucking begging for it. Like she’d been in Yosemite.

  But not just sex. He wanted her to look at him with admiration in her eyes. He wanted to see a smile on her face that didn’t signify his balls were about to be roasted. He wanted sweetness and love. Fuck, he wanted it all, but she wouldn’t even let him in a little bit.

  If only her moods matched her scent, he would be golden.

  Shit. Her scent. He turned to Bruin. “She… I can kind of tell how she’s feeling by her scent. It changes. When she’s normal, it’s level and tangy, like fresh citrus trees in a field. When she’s pissed, it gets strong and flat and harsh, like straight up orange oil, so concentrated you’re scared to get it on your skin. But there’s something else… sometimes it goes sweet and mild, like candied lemon slices.” His cock swelled in his pants and he frowned at it, then looked around to see if she’d come in the room. She hadn’t.

  Bruin bobbed his head. “That’s it. That’s your indicator when she’s hiding something from you. And I bet it’s your key to knowing how she feels about you. You should call one of your friends. Ask them about it.”

  “One of my friends? Who? Trevor? Graeme? Fucking Beckett?” He could call Graeme maybe, though. They got along ok. And Crew. He and Crew had never had any major issues.

  Bruin gave him a stern look. “Yes. Your friends. Treat them like your friends, like their opinions and experiences matter to you, and you might be surprised at what happens. Everyone needs help sometimes, Mac.”

  Mac stood and paced around the living room. “Fuck,” he muttered and pulled out his phone. He dialed Graeme, but got no answer. “Shit.” So he tried Crew. Still nothing. He held the phone down by his side, then jerked it to his face and dialed Trevor. They’d managed to bury their hatchet months ago. No answer. He swore. “Good thing I’m not in trouble here.” He paced a bit more, then pulled up Beckett’s number and hit send.

  Beckett’s guarded tone said he knew exactly who was calling, but he didn’t know why. “What.”

  A smart ass comment sprang to Mac’s lips but he bit it back. Calling Beckett biscuit-head would not get him any closer to where he wanted to be. “Hey, ah, Beck. How is everyone out there at Camp Fucksalot? Anybody else turn up pregnant yet?” He grimaced at Bruin and held up his hands, knowing he was messing up already.

  Bruin flapped his hands in Mac’s direction and nodded. Keep going, you’re doing great.

  Mac shook his head and mouthed, I’m sucking ass.

  No, no, no, you’re rocking it. Best friend ever, Bruin mouthed, shaking then nodding his head, his most serious look on his face, his eyebrows quirked together.

  Mac turned away to keep from laughing. Beckett still hadn’t said anything yet. “Ah, Beck? You there?”

  “Do you know what time it is, Mac?”

  Mac looked around. No, he absolutely did not. Hadn’t even thought about it and his windows were boarded. “Ah, is it late?”

  “Yeah, it’s late. What the hell do you want?”

  “Um, well. Can I ask you a question about your m-about Cerise?”

  Beckett’s tone turned hard. “What fucking question?”

  “What does she smell like?”

  Beckett’s growl sliced through the miles between them, so strong, it made their connection go static-y.

  Mac yelled to be heard over it. “Jiminy Christmas, cornbr-, I mean, ah, Beckett. I don’t want your female. Look, I know you’ll take a bite out of my ass if I even look at her. I got that! Can you cool it with the warning long enough to help me out. I’ve got a situation here.”

  The growl stopped, slowly, but Beckett’s tone left no room for wondering if he was still pissed. “What situation?”

  Mac let out a breath. He didn’t want anyone to know any of this. Didn’t want to admit his mate didn’t want him. The guys would never let him hear the end of it. Shit.

  But Beckett already knew. His tone softened a little bit. “She still giving you a hard time?”

  Mac couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say it. But then he did. “Yeah.”

  “That sucks,” Beckett said, and what do you know? His tone was g
enuine. He wasn’t making fun at all.

  “It does suck,” Mac said, feeling the hole in his heart throb. “And, well, Bruin thinks maybe she’s, well, I think that there’s a chance that she’s… Shit. I’m not good at this. But she smells good, you know what I mean? All tangy and sharp and clean and sweet, and I can tell when her moods are changing by her scent but her words, they just don’t match her smell. So-shit. I just need to know if you know what I’m talking about.”

  “I do.” Beckett’s tone was thoughtful now. “Cerise has an underlying scent that is different than anything I can pick up from anyone else. Like it’s meant just for me.”

  Mac nodded, knowing exactly what he was talking about. No one’s scent had ever been as strong for him as his mate’s was. Or as perfectly mouthwatering. “So, what does it mean when her scent goes sweet?” He thought he knew. Damn, he hoped he was right. It would change everything.

  Beckett laughed and the sound grew tinny, like his phone wasn’t up by his face anymore. Mac could imagine him throwing his head back. A real belly buster. Whatever. He could take it. Beckett put the phone back to his face. “I don’t think you’re in as much trouble with her as you think you are, Mac. If it goes sweet, that means it’s time to get her in the bedroom.”

  “Shit. I fucking knew it. Thanks, Beck.”

  Hang up. A moment of thought.

  And then Mac went to find his female.

  Chapter 33

  Rogue sat on Mac’s bed, her head in her hands, her mind racing. He hadn’t discovered her real name, but fuck, he would figure it out if he kept trying.

  She pressed her hands against her temples, hard. She’d known for days, months maybe, that there was some kind of freak show going on here, even before she saw a man appear from nowhere. Before she’d been framed for murder. Before she’d even met Mac, this time.

  Time to stop pretending she didn’t know what was going on. She wasn’t crazy. Werewolves existed, two of them were in the house right now, and one of them thought she was his mate. Good lord, the word made her tighten her fingers in her hair. Mate. It wasn’t a word used about humans a lot, but it still conjured up images she was better off not thinking about. Mate meaning partner. Mate meaning one of a pair, mate meaning to be connected to. And let’s not forget the meaning of the word that was making her heart pound. Mate meaning sex.

  Urgggh. Rogue threw herself back on Mac’s king-size bed, sitting alone in the corner, no headboard, just shoved against the wall, the horrible red blanket covering it. She couldn’t do the whole partner, pair, marriage thing, but God knew she could fuck him. Wanted to badly. Wanted him to pull so she could push, wanted to resist so he could insist, wanted that friction that would be so explosive with him they would set the fucking house on fire.

  And then all burn to death since the exits were all blocked. Hardy har har.

  Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway and she scrambled to her feet. She looked around, then grabbed the window frame and pulled herself up onto the windowsill. She’d pulled the screen out earlier, bent it, and flung it against the wall, more to piss Mac off than anything, but if he was coming in, she wanted to look like she was actively trying to get away.

  She got up there just in time. The door slammed open. She froze, then held onto the wall to turn herself around, mustering up all of her anger and sexual frustration into a cold stare she could level him with.

  He looked so good. Fucker was big. Handsome. Just the right bit of attitude in his face. She liked his clean-shaven face, but this scruffy, almost-beard? Made her want to stick her tongue down his throat. And he looked pissed, too, which she liked. She held back a smile.

  He strode toward her, then pointed at the floor. “Down, now,” he said, voice hard.

  Rogue laughed, then kicked out with her foot, aiming straight for his nose. She hated to mar such a perfect face, but, man, nobody talked to her like that. She pulled the kick just a bit, not wanting to black his eyes, too. Shit, that was a mistake.

  Mac caught her foot two inches before it hit his face, twisted his body, and, before she knew it, she was in the air, yanked by her leg into his arms, then slammed unceremoniously on the bed on her belly. He fell on top of her, a hot, heavy weight that scrambled her brains. He pushed her right ear into the mattress, maneuvering her head so he could whisper into her left ear.

  “If I didn’t like you, I would have broken your knee. Bring it, as hard as you want. I can take anything you’ve got. Don’t forget what I am.”

  Fuck, double entendre much? She didn’t know if he meant cop or werewolf, but her entire body was throbbing with absolute want for him. Which was going to make it that much harder to kick his ass. Damn sexy fucker.

  He rolled off her, and, just before he went, she realized an erection the size of a tree trunk was pressed against her ass. Talk about unfair! Her mouth watered and he chuckled behind her like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Rogue pushed herself off the bed and whirled to face him. She was pissed now. “I won’t forget what you are, Princess, but don’t forget that you don’t know shit about me,” she said, circling away from the bed. He was too big and strong to fight, and she knew he’d trained to counter any move she could make. So how to fight smarter?

  “You get bored butt-fucking your buddy?” she said from a fighting stance, just searching for something, anything that would get a rise out of him. “Did you decide it’s time to make me pay for my room and board with my body? Maybe I’m a little easier to hold down?”

  Mac came in slowly, more controlled than she thought he would be. No rage on his face, only a thick determination. He stepped right in the half-circle of her arms and pressed up against her until she had to take a step back. Shit. Her ass was against the wall, and he just kept coming, till every inch of him was against every inch of her, his face bent, his mouth open slightly. She could smell wintergreen on his breath, like maybe he’d brushed his teeth before he came in.

  His voice was low, controlled, deadly. A sexy rasp that made her want to say yes to everything. Just hand herself over to him. But she never would. She’d die fighting. She had to force herself to listen to his words, not just watch his lips move, watch that slick tongue work in his mouth. “I’ve never forced a woman, and I never will. Never had sex with a male, but if I were going to, Bruin might be my first choice. He’s a good guy. You could stand to be a little more sensitive, you know, but I won’t hold that against you. My mouth gets away from me sometimes, too.”

  Rogue took a deep breath, made her decision, and put her arms around him without a word.

  ***

  Mac smelled her scent flare sweet, then tangy, then sweet, then flat, then sweeter than he’d ever smelled it. He just knew if he got his fingers inside her, she’d be drenched. Fuuuuck, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Wanted inside that hot, grasping pussy. He would give her anything she wanted, if she would just admit she wanted him, too. Just give him the smallest sign. Just give a little. Sigh, smile, offer up her neck or her lips for a kiss. Anything.

  Her arms went around him and he relaxed slightly… until he heard the snick of her blade out of its holster and felt cold steel press against the opening of his ear. He could see the pulse point at her neck, beating fast, belying the deadly control she had over her voice and her muscles. Fuck, she was stubborn. Fuck, he liked it way more than was good for him.

  He pressed in closer to her, until his mouth was less than a half inch from hers. “Go ahead, because another hole in my head is the only thing that’s going to convince me that you don’t want me as much as I want you.” The knife pressed in farther, penetrating cartilage, but her scent was so sweet and strong he knew he had her. He moved his mouth just a quarter inch closer to hers, then licked his lips. The underside of his tongue grazed her bottom lip no heavier than a butterfly kiss. “Slice me up, baby. I’ll be a MacKebab for you anytime you need it.” He pressed his erection against her. “And then I’m going to fuck you like
you need. Hold you down, like you want. Slam into you again and again and again. Make you come until you think you’re going to die from pleasure. How long’s it been since a male did that for you? I bet I know. Four years, am I right?”

  Her eyes were lidded, heavy, and her breath was coming fast. The knife at his ear wavered. He slid his hands onto her waist, then onto her hips, holding her in place like he’d done in the forest. Time to press his advantage. “You remember what it’s like, being with me, don’t you? Hot, right? All slide and glide and pawing at each other. Screaming, panting. You bite. I like to be bitten. Just one sign, Rogue, that’s all you need to give me. Just a nod of your head. Or one kiss on my lips. It can be as rough and fuck-all as you want it. I’m down with all of that. But you have to tell me yes.”

  His words hung in the air in the closed-up room. The room he’d never considered as more than a place to sleep, but if she would just give him that yes, the place would forever be sacred to him. The room where he connected with his mate. He would decorate it in gold, or however she wanted. From the other room, what seemed like miles away, he could hear the laugh track of some sitcom play while his dick throbbed so hard in his pants he felt like the head would blow clean off if she ever put her hands on it.

  The knife left his ear. Her face didn’t give up anything, her expression didn’t change, but her scent flared one time, like a lightning strike. She was going to say yes. She wanted to. He could tell—

  Her knife sliced down the side of his face and neck, cutting a flap of skin open, while she stared coldly into his eyes. A shallow slice, so neat it was almost painless, but a slice, nonetheless. She dropped the knife to the floor, where it clattered harmlessly, his blood probably dripping off it.

  He took a step back, separating his body from hers, and began to take off his clothes.

  He wasn’t giving up on her.

  ***

  Rogue left her hand in the air, fingers splayed open, staring defiantly at Mac. God, she wanted him, but she didn’t know how to say yes. She couldn’t do it. Not when so much was at stake. She didn’t know exactly what was at stake, but it had to be everything.