"We're going to figure this out, Kira," he promised. "If we have to, we'll confront the wolf that did this to you. We'll make sure he knows where the line is drawn, and that you aren't available to be messed with."
"What if he doesn't listen?" Kira asked quietly. "It wasn't a wolf that kicked my door in, Sawyer. This man knew exactly what he was doing."
"And where to find you," Donovan added. A chill ran down Kira's spine, and her teacher looked like he regretted his words in the next instant, but he hadn't said anything she didn't already know. He pulled her in against his side as they made their way slowly out of the woods.
"Sawyer," Kira said quietly. "I think we need to start exploring the possibility that you aren't the wolf that bit me."
CHAPTER 16
A call to Shannon, and any crisis with the campus police was averted… for now. They only barely managed it under the one-hour deadline that Donovan had himself installed.
"No, Shannon, there's really no crazy weird boyfriend I need to tell you about," Kira said as she shot a look across the kitchen to Donovan. He pretended not to notice; he pushed his sleeves up and busied himself over the stovetop. "I haven't even been back to the room. Some of the boys on our floor must have been trying to prank us—remember that shit they tried to pull our first week? But you're right, it's not funny. Definitely tell the resident advisors. I'm sure they'll get someone to clean it up. Maybe you should stay somewhere else until they do." Kira was silent for a long a moment, and Donovan could hear Shannon speaking on the other line, as clearly as if she was in the room with them.
"Okay. But where are you staying? And whose phone are you calling me from, anyway?"
"I'll catch up with you in a few days," Kira promised. "All right? Okay, bye girl. I feel bad for throwing them under the bus like that," she mentioned to Donovan as she hung up the phone. "The guys in our dorm, I mean. They didn't do anything wrong."
"No one is going to confess to a crime they didn't commit," he reasoned. "All of your resident advisors will be on high alert for the next few weeks, and then the incident will be forgotten. It's a good thing. It means that a stranger coming in or out of your dormitory would draw a lot of unwanted attention. I don't think whoever attacked you there is likely to risk it again."
Kira settled into the kitchen stool and wrapped her long legs around the outside supports. She was wearing his clothes once more, and Donovan couldn't help but notice the way his favorite flannel shirt hung loose and slightly open down Kira's front. It hadn't been his favorite shirt until he saw her in it.
He ferried a bowl of beef stroganoff over to her and leaned on the counter. He knew she was hungry; still, she didn't immediately touch what was offered. "Kira," he began in a low voice. "What you said back there in the woods… I don't want you to get your hopes up. Even if there is another werewolf on campus, it doesn't change the fact that I blacked-out during the full moon when you were bitten."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "This changes everything! I don't believe it was you. Not for one second. I know you're just trying to protect my feelings… both our feelings," she amended. "But how can you still believe it was you that bit me? I know you would never hurt anyone, professor."
His temper got the better of him then, and Donovan slammed his fist down on the counter, making the bowl in front of her jump and rattle. The girl herself didn't so much as flinch; her eyes flashed, but it wasn't the wolf he saw. It was determination to win their argument.
"Will you listen to me?" he growled. "Of course I'm capable of hurting someone! In fact, I feel extremely capable of hurting the man who did this to you! If the werewolf who attacked you is bold enough to come to your dorm room in broad daylight…" He trailed off, and retracted his fist from the countertop. He was shaking.
"He could attack others," Kira surmised. "I know, professor. I've been thinking the same thing. It's not something anyone else besides us is equipped to deal with. We have to prepare for a worst-case scenario, right? We have to be ready to confront him… and decide what to do with him next if he refuses to stop."
"We don't have to decide anything," Donovan stressed. "This is something I need to do alone. I'm your teacher. I'm older than you, and I've been cursed longer. You've been through enough already because of me. I don't want to see you harmed any further."
"As your student," she replied waspishly, "and as the woman who loves you and would do anything to keep you safe, I don't agree."
And suddenly, there was an L-word between them that wasn't 'lycanthropy'.
Donovan gazed at her for a long moment, his gray eyes storming with emotion. It had been harder and harder to keep the word locked behind his own lips recently. Why didn't he just give into it now? Kira, ever the braver half of their strange partnership, had already said it. It was out there, only waiting now for an identical confession from him to fulfill its promise.
There was so much wrong with the foundations of their relationship. Even now, Donovan thought that if he could woo Kira Bentley all over again, her would—he would wait until the semester was over to ask her out to dinner; he would kiss her goodnight on the cheek and leave it at that; he would meet her parents and plead his case for why he, an older man, wished to be with her and only her. Maybe there was still time for all of those traditional, boring motions. He would go through them gladly with her.
Kira slipped down off the stool and came around the side of the counter. Donovan didn't draw back from the advance. He watched as she placed herself between him and the all-too-temptingly hard surface of the kitchen bar. It would be so easy to unravel that stubborn line of her otherwise plump lips by capturing them with his own and thrusting her body back against the counter. It would be easier than saying what he knew he had to say.
"I told you before," he murmured as she wound her arms around his neck. "I would much rather wait until you weren't in heat to try and sort things out between us."
"Maybe I'll be in heat forever," Kira said. Donovan groaned in horror at the thought and tightened his grip on her waist. Wait, when had he allowed his hands to grab hold of her? "Maybe one of us will get hurt. Maybe tomorrow you'll decide you're no good for me, pack up, and skip town."
"That last one's a very real possibility," Donovan admitted as she drew him down to her. "If you really love someone, you'd do anything to keep them out of danger, wouldn't you?"
Kira arched an eyebrow. "Is that your confession?" She sounded disappointed.
"I love you, Bentley," he said very clearly. "Don't think that knowledge will help you pass my final."
His words caused Kira's face to take on a glow he had never seen before. Her skin, normally as pale as the face of the moon, didn't blush so much as seem to glow suddenly and radiantly. She fought to keep her mouth turned down, which resulted in her expression becoming hilariously lopsided from the effort, and she lost the battle, anyway. Soon she was beaming up at him, and the scholastic veneer that Donovan had used to get his own words out fell away. He gazed warmly at the woman in his arms as his thumb came up to sweep the curve of her cheekbone. He leaned into her the same moment she tilted her face up, and he once more gave himself over to kissing his student senseless in the kitchen of his home.
CHAPTER 17
Kira was starving, but it was more than one hunger of hers that she thought she needed sated.
After dinner she sprawled on Donovan's couch with a book propped open in front of her face. If she spent as much time reading recently as she actually did pretending to read, she might stand a chance of actually advancing her goals of becoming an English teacher.
Despite confessing their feelings for one another, this time, Donovan didn't join her on the couch. He sat in the armchair beside his flat screen TV, which was currently broadcasting a virtual fireplace he had found on Netflix. Despite the gravity of their situation, Kira couldn't help but think the effect was hilarious—it was part of the reason she was so distracted from her reading. The other, more pressing reason for her
distraction had all to do with the man whose apartment she was staying over at for the second time in what felt like just as many days.
The rims of Professor Donovan's glasses glinted in the faux firelight as he pored over a campus map he had spread out across his thighs. His leg jogged occasionally as he scanned each pleated square for some clue as to how two male wolves could have existed in the same territory for so long with at least one remaining unaware of the other. His dark auburn hair was parted down the side, and he kept reaching up to idly sweep it back out of his line of vision. An open beer sat beside him on the mantle; Kira had declined one of her own.
She ached all over, and it wasn't just from the day's harrowing adventure. Every time she looked at Donovan, she was overcome by a yearning so intense that nothing outside of multiple cold showers stood a chance of taming the heat—and she wasn't about to increase his water bill just because she couldn't keep a handle on how she was feeling.
Think about it, Kira, she reasoned with herself angrily. It's just… 'that time of the month'. Something that, as a female werewolf, you're just going to have to learn to deal with.
But maybe there were better ways of dealing with it than doing absolutely nothing. They had confessed, they had kissed, but it wasn't enough for her. She yearned for Donovan's closeness, and this time, she wanted more than just a hot make-out session. She wanted him to make good on all of the promises his all-too-obviously virile body had made her in the relative privacy of his office only the day before.
"You haven't turned a page in the last half hour, Kira. Finish the chapter, at least," Donovan advised her without glancing up from his study of the map.
"What will you give me if I do?" was her automatic response. Kira winced at the childishness of the challenge, but quickly composed her expression when Donovan glanced up sharply. She couldn't help it—the urge to flirt was too strong. Especially if she thought it stood a change of leading to something else.
"Very likely a passing grade," was his offhand reply
She hated it when he switched gears on her. Sawyer Donovan was incredibly accomplished at going from mentor to adversary to lover and back again; he often ran the gamut of all three before Kira could even catch her breath to protest (or encourage) the actions of one. Their romance was still so new and unexplored. Couldn't he leave her with an opening for more than half a second at a time?
Kira grudgingly hunkered back down to finish the chapter. It didn't help stem the tide of her own sexual frustration observing the constant back and forth between Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester. She was definitely starting to carry her personal issues over with her into the realms of classic literature. Good. At this rate, maybe she really would have a shot at becoming a professor—most of the instructors she had encountered so far while pursuing a higher education tended to imbue their subjects with all sorts of private meaning.
When it was finally time for bed, Kira insisted on taking the couch this time. Donovan had forced her into his bed during their last sleepover, and not in a fun or even remotely satisfying away—she had occupied a cold, lonely mattress all night long, and her mind had raced every time she picked up on a sound or movement in the other room. If she had hoped her professor would join her beneath the covers, he never did—he remained chivalrously on the couch, and when they came together again the next morning in the kitchen, they both looked as if they hadn't slept a wink.
She would be damned if she suffered through another night like that.
So Kira wrapped herself in the living room quilt, patiently allowed herself to be close-mouthed kissed good night, and waited an hour past the time that Donovan had turned off all the lights. The virtual fireplace burned on the mantle, offering her at least something in the way of a distraction as she counted down the minutes and summoned courage for what she was about to do. Then, when the hour struck midnight, Kira Bentley slipped out from underneath the blanket and began to undress herself.
It was a hell of a play, and she wasn't sure she could pull it off. Odds were Donovan would eject her from his room before she could even get past the bedroom door. For someone who so incautiously (and continuously!) started things on his own, he still seemed to have some reservations about the nature of their relationship. She hoped to put them all to bed, literally, tonight.
"Come on, Bentley," the now-naked Kira coached herself. "You can do this."
She straightened her posture, and padded as quietly and unselfconsciously as she could down the hallway. Donovan's bedroom door was slightly ajar, although no light bled through to indicate that the occupant of the room was still awake. Kira pushed it slowly, and was grateful when it eased open beneath her touch without protest. A few more paces carried her to the bed. She hiked one knee up as she bent forward, placing it on the mattress; the other soon followed. She knew time was of the essence as soon as the bed sagged beneath her weight. If this seduction stood any chance of going off successfully, then she needed to be on Donovan, now. She found the muscular outline of his body beneath the sheets and leveraged one slender leg over his waist to straddle him. When his hands came up out of the darkness the next instant to grab her, he was already too late—outside of slinging her off him onto the floor, she now held the dominant position. Kira settled herself smugly atop his chest.
"Bentley? What are you doing?" His voice was rough in the darkness.
"Listen!" she whispered. "I've thought of a plan!"
"For God's sake, does this plan of yours not involve clothes?" Donovan gritted his teeth. It was amazing how little adjustment time her vision required—she could see him now as clearly as she could by the light of day. His eyes were decidedly not on her face.
"I'm in heat, Sawyer." The fingers on her waist dug into her flesh in tortured agreement. "What if that's why the male wolf attacked me?" she asked.
"We've been over this," he replied. "I promised I won't let him get anywhere near you."
"There might be a way that you can help protect me all the time." Kira leaned forward and caressed a loving hand down the side of his face. "Even when you're not around."
"What are you saying?" he whispered hoarsely. "What way?"
"Claim me as your mate."
There. She had said it. Kira rocked back into a sitting position and grinned as Donovan lapsed into a stunned silent. Maybe it was a crude invitation—she had no way of knowing how a werewolf's manners were meant to differ from a regular human's in this situation—but she couldn't help feeling pleased with herself for having said it. She couldn't rely solely on Sawyer Donovan to take their relationship to the next level, so she might as well try to advance the romance herself.
The man beneath her choked out a laugh. "This is really how you're going to play this?
"I'm not playing," Kira said. "I do want to be with you. More than anything. To the point that I can hardly concentrate sometimes!"
"You think you're the only one?" Donovan muttered mutinously.
"I'm just saying that the two of us together makes sense," she reasoned. "Right here, and right now. You can protect me by marking me as yours, and vice versa. I mean it, Sawyer. I want this. And if that's not enough, you saw how terribly I study when I'm thinking about you. You're supposed to be making my education easier, not harder."
"God, don't even say that word." The hands on her hips pushed her lower, and Kira could feel how rigid his erection was beneath the sheets. It felt like there was hardly anything left between them keeping them apart. She wondered if he slept naked.
Only one way to find out.
CHAPTER 18
"Kira," he moaned as she slipped beneath the covers.
"Yes?" she asked innocently. His temperature had spiked the moment he saw her standing naked in his doorway, and now that he could feel the coolness of her bare flesh sliding against his own, he thought he was going to lose his mind. Having her so enticingly close, especially when his hormones screamed that she was a viable mate, was testing his last modicum of control. Donovan moaned as she lower
ed her mouth to nip at his neck, one hand coming up to clutch her as he wrestled the bedside drawer open. His fingers groped blindly until they finally found what he was looking for, and he withdrew the condom just as Kira's head vanished beneath the covers.
"All right, you she-wolf, as long as we're—Christ!"
A deep throb of warmth in his abdomen and a thrill at the edge of his senses cut him off as he felt his manhood encased in a taut, damp paradise. He felt Kira's tongue, always so sharp with comebacks, slide luxuriantly along his shaft as she tasted him for the first time. Donovan's hands shot beneath the covers to grip her by the roots of her hair, and he felt it when she hummed a laugh deep in her throat. She began to bob her head up and down, and each movement thrust him back into enveloping warmth of her mouth.
Donovan groaned and shuddered as he relaxed back into the pillow. To think Kira Bentley, his student, was the one doing this to him—it made his cock twitch involuntarily, and he felt her fingers encircle the base of his shaft in an effort to hold it still. Donovan groaned again as she sucked him harder than he had ever been in his life. He needed her, now, while there was still no release in sight—at the rate she was going, he might surprise them both by bringing their foreplay to a sudden unwanted conclusion.
Donovan seized her shoulders and yanked her back up above the covers, crushing her mouth against his even as he flipped her over and pinned her beneath him. He tore open the plastic wrapped, never breaking contact with Kira Bentley as his hands worked swiftly to prepare himself. Once he was satisfied that they were both protected, a powerful stroke of his fingers between her legs urged her open, and he positioned himself above her.
Bears of Burden: THORN Page 48
