Mating Dance

by Merryn Dexter

  “You’re a virgin?” The tenderness in his voice translated to pity in her confused mind, and she lashed out.

  “I waited thirty-five years for you! Thirty. Five. Years. Because my wolf decided you were the one. It’s not my fault. I’m trying my best here!” Her voice wobbled as tears threatened to spill. Fumbling for the handle behind her, she whispered desperately. “It’s not my fault.”

  He reached for her, but she evaded his hand. Stumbling back into the cabin, she shut him out, falling on her butt as the clothing around her ankles tripped her up. With a sob, she slid the bottom bolt home just as he pounded against the wood. Sprawled in the dark, she tried to catch her breath, the full horror of their failed coupling whirling through her mind.

  “Rory! Dammit, honey, open up! We need to talk about this, please!”

  “Go home!” Struggling to her knees, she turned the key to further secure the door. She tugged at the laces on her boots until she could kick them free, dragging the offending jeans from her legs. The bruise on her butt was nothing compared to the one on her ego, but it served to compound her humiliation. Grabbing a fleece blanket from the bed, she wrapped it around her shoulders before lowering gingerly to perch on the edge.

  Disappointment and unfulfilled desire racked her body as he continued to knock. “We can sort this out, sweetheart. Please don’t hide from me.” The knocking paused, followed by a deeper thud as he put his shoulder to the thick planks. “Rory! It’s not your fault, darling. It’s mine!”

  How can it be his fault? He’s clearly had sex before. Lots of sex with women who knew what they were doing. With women whose bodies responded properly, who knew how to say the right thing. Jealousy oozed through her veins, black and bitter as coffee left too long in the pot. She threw her head back and screamed her frustration to the ceiling. The gods seemed to answer her as a crack of lightning lit up the cabin interior. A boom of thunder followed close behind, and rain rattled like bullets against the windows as a spring storm rolled in from nowhere.

  “Fuck!” Sander banged his fist again. “Come on, Rory, please. I’m getting soaked out here.”

  “Your truck is right there. Get in it and just go home. We can pretend this never happened.” She’d grown used to pretending over the years. She could get past this if he would just go away and leave her alone, give her time to think.

  A furious roar split the air, drowning out the thunder as he body-slammed the wood so hard the hinges creaked. Rory squeaked and ducked beside the bed, flinching until she realized the old cabin had somehow survived his onslaught.

  “Open this fucking door, Aurora! Right now!” A nearby window cracked as he rammed against the cabin again, followed by sudden silence. The storm continued to rage, bursts of lightning illuminating the cabin before plunging it back into darkness. Frozen in place, every sense straining against the fury of nature, she tried to ascertain whether he was still there. Ozone stung her nose, the pouring rain drowning any scents as she waited. A soft thud against the wood. “Let me in, honey, please. I swear I won’t cross the threshold unless you say it’s okay. I just need to see your face, Rory.” He didn’t sound angry, and his quiet plea drew her across the room.

  She eased the bolt, twisted the lock, and opened the door a fraction, one hand clutching the blanket in place at her neck. The tang of iron hit her nose, a trace of blood, and she studied his soaking-wet form, trying to locate the source of injury. His brown hair lay plastered to his scalp, water dripping from it to run down his upper torso.

  Her eyes chased a rivulet as it rolled over the sculpted abs on his lower body to disappear in the dark hair shadowing his cock. His flesh twitched under her scrutiny, and she turned her eyes away to study instead the knuckles of his hand, resting at his hip. The skin was torn and ragged, the source of the blood she smelled.

  He raised his hand, studying the scratches with a look that said he hadn’t noticed the injury until just then. He lifted it higher, pressing the palm against his nose, and drew a shuddering breath. “The scent of you belongs on my skin, Rory.” His dark voice, full of sin and promise, rumbled in his chest.

  “Why didn’t you just leave?

  “Because you never told me to.” Gold flashed in his eyes. Tricky wolf. What game is he playing? She cocked her head and studied him, not liking the hint of a smile teasing around his mouth.

  “I told you to go home.” She scowled to hide her confusion.

  “Then you’d better let me in, honey, because I am home.” There it was again. The absolute certainty of tone made her head spin at the implication of his words.

  Her hand fell away from the door, and it swung open as she retreated. Sander stayed in place. Every line and muscle in his body straining, he waited. “We went from zero to infinity in less than five minutes, darling. I lost control of the ‘love rocket’ for a moment there.” The gentle words soothed her somewhat, but embarrassment at the reminder of her failing still stained her cheeks.

  “You can come in, as long as you promise to forget I ever said that.” She winced. Closing the distance between them, he pushed the door shut behind him. He chuckled, brushing the hair away from her forehead to press a kiss there.

  “Aurora Jane Hanson, I am never going to forget your first foray into dirty talking.” His sweet smile negated the potential sting of his words. He was teasing her; the way lovers did.

  “I don’t know what to do, you don’t….we don’t fit.” The admission didn’t cost as much as she feared when he cupped her chin in his hands. Soft lips brushed against hers, a feather-light touch he repeated again and again. Different from the hard, lusty touches they had shared earlier, she opened like a flower when his tongue brushed the seam of her mouth. His hold on her face stayed gentle, as though she were a piece of exquisite glass that would shatter under too much pressure. Teasing, questing, his tongue was never still as he explored every inch of her mouth, inviting her to join the dance.

  Clutching at his shoulder, she ignored the blanket as it slid free. Copying his movements, she stroked the roof of his mouth as their bodies edged closer until they stood hip to hip. She rubbed against him, eager to please, to atone for the earlier mistakes, but he held her still.

  “Shh,” he breathed against her lips. “Just this is enough.”

  Chapter Seven

  The rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk of an industrial stapler competed with shouted conversations, hammering, and the buzz of a grinder as Sander stopped the group of teens at the perimeter of the construction site. Work had progressed at a remarkable rate as more and more of the pack donated their time to the project. After the dark days of winter, everyone was keen to play their part in bringing the new hall to fruition.

  The building was framed and watertight with first-fix utilities well under way. A cherry picker was secured behind barriers on the west side of the building as a team worked to fit solar panels to the roof. Sander pointed out the key risks to the six teens as they waited for permission from Stefan to enter the building.

  A schedule had been agreed with Adrie. Sander would work with them two afternoons a week, and the site visit was their first field trip. Each of the kids had been assigned a support role for the dance preparations depending on aptitude and interest. Keeley, a petite blonde, was busy making notes on a pad as she strolled the perimeter of the visitor area. Her looks and size belied the fierce nature of her wolf, and she’d been thrilled when he asked for her input on the security preparations.

  One of the boys, Adam, had shown an interest in the catering, and Sander had played the family card, getting him a part-time job at the restaurant. It was mostly bussing tables and washing up, but the boy seemed happy to earn a few bucks and had positively glowed when he’d told Sander about Will consulting him on the menu for the party. The other three, two boys and a girl, had been happy with assignment to the decorating team, and Rory was expected any time to join the tour of the hall.

  He had a special project in mind for Daniel.
Although he still hadn’t contributed much to the discussions, he’d stayed behind the previous week to request the family photographs for the portrait. They’d agreed on a price of two hundred dollars. Well, Sander had offered, and the boy had stammered before gratefully accepting.

  Sweet fruit and vanilla drifted on the breeze, and he spun like a compass toward his true north as Rory approached the small gathering. Her blonde curls were their usual tangle, and her well-worn jeans had a patch at the knee. A stripe of dirt decorated one cheek. She looked perfect to him. His wolf grumbled when she hung back at the edge of the group, and Sander concurred. Uncaring of the stares from the teens, he swooped down on her, smothering her protests in a kiss that left them both panting when they finally broke apart. Color bloomed on her cheeks as she scowled at him, but she pressed into his side when he curled his arm around her waist.

  “Now I understand why your bed hasn’t been slept in lately.” His brother’s dry voice elicited another round of giggles from the group. Sander shrugged, cheeks stretched wide by his grin as they made their way inside the building. Hard hats were issued to everyone, although the crew had stood down for a break for the duration of the tour.

  Stefan took charge, showing them the main hall, the rooms designated for kitchen and bathroom facilities. The skeleton of a flight of stairs showed the route to the first floor, which would accommodate a group of meeting rooms as well as lead to a balcony circling the hall. The partial mezzanine had been added after Sander’s request for the youth club space. The tour culminated in the large space at the rear of the complex reserved for the teens and younger adults. A separate entrance had been installed, and the kids oohed and aahed as they explored every inch.

  The group thinned out as Rory led her team to the hall to take measurements. Keeley asked Stefan to show her around the site again, focusing on access points as part of her security assignment. Sander gave Adam permission to take some pictures in the unfinished kitchen area before he headed to the restaurant for his afternoon shift. Which just left Daniel. The boy checked his watch nervously. The worried scent that clung to the boy too often for Sander’s liking threaded the air.

  “There’s plenty of time, Daniel. I promise I won’t make you late home, but I have another commission for you.” Cautious interest filled the boy’s eyes as he moved closer at Sander’s urging. “I want you to design and paint a mural.” He gestured to the long white wall stretching the length of the room. “The design will be up to you, but I want it to reflect the pack. You guys are the future, and I want something to remind every person who looks at this wall what we are striving for.”

  He watched the idea take root, saw in the narrowing of Daniel’s eyes how it spoke to him. The boy stepped closer, his hand trailing over the clean, blank surface, pausing here and there to trace an outline with one finger. “It’s way bigger than anything I’ve done before,” he breathed. Which was as good as saying yes, in Sander’s book. Resisting the urge to clench his fist, he slung his arm around the boy’s shoulders, steering him toward the reception area where Stefan waited with a roll of graph paper under his arm.

  Sander left his brother to explain the dimensions to Daniel, how the grid on the paper could be projected onto the wall, giving him a reference to scale up his design. He wandered instead toward the main hall, meeting Rory on the way out as she herded her chattering group before her. He gave her a wink, indicating with his head he would wait for her to finish up. She flashed him a quick smile as she tried to focus on the excited suggestions from her enthusiastic helpers. The interaction was good for her, he could tell by the light in her aqua eyes as they flitted from child to child. With a laugh and a shooing motion, she eventually sent them on their way, agreeing to meet them the following week to review their suggestions. Propping her fists on her hips, she blew out a breath, giving him a tired smile. “I’m exhausted, I don’t know how you keep up with them.” Shaking her head, she hooked her arm through his as they strolled toward the exit, passing Stefan on the way out. He dropped his hand, having just waved Daniel off, and it delighted Sander to see the bounce in the boy’s step as he hurried away.

  “Good kid,” Stefan observed, his grin turning sly as he studied his brother and his old friend arm in arm. “Hey, Rory, you better pay Margie a visit real soon. I reckon you gals will have a lot to talk about.” Laughter echoing around the reception area, he brushed past them and returned to work.

  Lowering his head, Sander buried it in her hair, loving the sweet scent perfuming the curls. He’d been spending every night at Rory’s, taking things slow and easy. Sharing kisses and light caresses only. He was determined to give her time to learn what she wanted, find out what she liked rather than following his more experienced lead. His dick was refusing to talk to him, and he’d become adept at sleeping with a hard-on, but it didn’t matter. She was his mate, and if he had to wait a while before he fully claimed her, then so be it. Didn’t mean he couldn’t ramp up their play a little.

  The youngsters had taken him on a tour of pack lands, showing him the places they liked to hang out, including the water hole they favored during the hot summer months. Surrounded by rocks, with a rope swing hanging from the branches of an old tree, it was a great place to let off steam. They’d also taken him through the woods to a familiar spot, proving some things never changed. The old shack he remembered was long gone, but a new one stood in its place. According to the kids, the alpha had built it as a present for his mate, Betty. Sander had some good memories of the old shack, and the visit with the kids had inspired him. Tugging Rory by the hand, he ignored her laughing protests and loped off into the woods. The structure was simple, though crafted with skill, Drew having worked as a carpenter to support himself while banished from the pack. The alpha had also found time to put in a few hours working on the hall, prompting several other pack members to volunteer their time.

  Sander knocked on the door of the shack and listened for a moment before turning the handle and ushering Rory inside. She took a few steps into the small building before turning to face him with a confused expression. He closed the door, slid the bolt, and pressed his back to it as he studied her. “What…what are we doing here?” she said, glancing around the room. An old rug covered the floor. Plush cushions and a couple of old beanbag chairs were piled in one corner. A shelf on the wall held a multitude of candles, some barely started, others merely stumps of melted wax. Nothing matched, and it was clear things had been added here and there by different people. Eyes narrowed, she rounded on him. “Did you bring me to a make-out spot?”

  Grabbing a few large pillows, he laid them in the center of the rug and flopped down upon them, patting the space next to him. “Come on, Rory, come and play with me. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He growled low in his throat. Spots of color decorated her cheekbones as she nibbled at her lower lip. She looked shy and completely sexy in her old flannel shirt and faded denim. The women he’d dated casually over the years had all been a type—sleek, sophisticated, cold as ice. Nothing like this scruffy she-wolf who was rapidly becoming his only obsession.

  He sat up, eyes fixed on his mate as his wolf came to the fore. Letting their desire for her shine hot in his gaze, he slowly unbuttoned his blue cotton shirt, sliding it from his shoulders. “Now your turn, honey,” he coaxed.

  Although she rolled her eyes and laughed, it didn’t stop her slipping loose the first couple of buttons on the flannel, giving him a hint of what looked suspiciously like black lace. The thought of his practical, no-nonsense woman decked out in something other than plain white cotton swelled his cock to unbearable hardness. On hands and knees, he stalked her across the rug.

  “Uh, uh, uh.” Her wagging finger stopped him in his tracks. She turned her back on him. Red-and-black checks glided down to reveal an expanse of creamy skin stretched over the subtly sculpted muscles of her upper back. The black straps of her bra stood out starkly as she dropped her hands behind her, letting the shirt fall free. He
watched, mesmerized as Rory lifted her arms to gather the mass of her curly hair. Her clasped hands slid higher to cup the back of her head, displaying the delicate column of her neck. The dip of her waist, the definition of her biceps, the utter sensuality of her pose destroyed his control.

  “Turn around, honey.” His guttural growl more wolf than man, he held his breath as she obeyed. The arch in her spine lifted her breasts, causing her stiff nipples to poke through the lacy cups of her bra. She angled her head away, baring her throat, inviting him to suck hard on the pulse throbbing there. “Come here,” he whispered, reaching up to catch her around the waist as she lowered to her knees.

  He held her in place, bending his head to capture her left breast with his mouth. A soft moan teased his ears. He sucked harder, drawing as much of her flesh between his lips as he could. Loving the little sounds of pleasure she made, he plied his tongue over her nipple, using the lace covering her skin to increase sensation. Rory dropped her hands to his head, pressing him closer, and he relished the prick of her short nails on his scalp.

  Watching her confidence bloom over their shared nights of play had been an exquisite pleasure, proving he’d been right to take things back to basics. He’d forgotten over the years how much fun the slow burn of foreplay could be.

  Keeping his mouth fixed on her breast, he unbuttoned her jeans, praying to the gods a matching pair of panties hid beneath them. The feel of warm, naked skin under his hands fired such a bolt of lust to his groin, his eyes crossed as he battled not to come. Releasing her breast, he rested his head on her flat stomach, staring down at the sheer black thong covering her pussy. “Are you trying to kill me?” he muttered hoarsely, and the laugh she gave spoke of a woman enjoying her sexuality. With a mock snarl, he sank his teeth into the ripe curve of her hip, cupping her pubic bone so his fingers rested over the damp silk between her thighs.