by Renee Rose
My lips twitch at his comparison and I see relief seep across his expression.
“Let me serve as your escort on this trip. I know you came to forget me. To forget what happened. But I’ve been watching you for days, mi amor, and your melancholy hasn’t lessened. Maybe you need a… friend to share your travels. I speak a little French and I’m very good at holding umbrellas and keeping the flocks of fans away from soon-to-be-famous artists when they stop to sketch things.”
I arch a brow. “Friend, huh? Do you strip all of your friends naked and tie them to bedposts?” The minute I ask the question, I’m burning with jealousy. Has he done this before? He did seem rather expert at it. I want to poke the eyes out of every female he’s been with.
His lips twitch. “You brought that on yourself, blanca. You should know better than to goad my wolf.” He uses that authoritative tone that gets me wet.
“What’s blanca—white?”
“Yes. So what do you say, muñeca? Will you let me stay? Be your companion?”
“That depends.” I already know my answer is yes. The heaviness that’s shrouded me since Mexico is lifting and European travel suddenly becomes as enticing as it felt when I first dreamed of coming here.
“Name your conditions, mi amor. I will respect them.”
I love the honor and respect he shows me. “When I say I need space, you back off. I’m not accepting you as my mate.”
He nods gravely. “Understood. I’m not asking for that.”
Suddenly shy, I snatch up a strawberry and bite into it. I love the hungry expression that creeps over Carlos’ face as he watches. I wonder if he’s going to demand his own pleasure or deny himself to prove he’ll behave. I’m tempted to confess to him that next time I’d love to try the butt plug and his cock, but I hold back.
He’s not my mate, he’s a companion. We still haven’t discussed how doomed and impossible any future relationship would be, but the subject looms over us.
“Maybe we should go to Spain,” I blurt to keep from jumping his bones.
“Why?”
“You speak the language. It might be more fun.”
He leans his forehead against mine as he presses another strawberry between my lips. “That is a wonderful idea, mi amor. We’ll go visit the haunts of Gaudí and Picasso. Dalí. Miró. Who else?”
I beam at him. Though I’ve been the princess of my father’s pack my entire life, and many would call me spoiled, I always felt like no one knew me. Like I’m little more than an object or symbol. Carlos pays attention. He knows exactly what I like and I love the feeling of being truly seen for once. And the idea of visiting museums with him nearly makes me giddy.
I nestle my head against his shoulder, settling into the comfort he provides. For all my brave desires to do this trip alone, it’s much nicer to have a partner. Especially one as capable and caring as Carlos.
10
Carlos
I should leave Sedona’s room before my throbbing cock makes me do something stupid and I erode the trust we just built. I breathe in her scent, which both tortures and relieves me at the same time. My sweet mate fell asleep on my shoulder—a pleasure I will work my ass off to earn for the rest of my life. Nothing felt better than providing for my mate—feeding her and sheltering her in my arms.
Well, nothing except bringing her to climax.
My wolf is still buffing his nails over that one. It was risky pushing her limits the way I did, but the payoff was huge. At Harvard, they taught us to analyze risk, figure out how to minimize it. It’s suddenly clear me that playing it safe has never served me. It goes against my wolf nature, my alpha nature. And it’s definitely the reason I have a shitstorm to deal with back at Monte Lobo.
Fuck the risks. My pack needs to be shaken up. The council needs their asses kicked and I’m the only one who can turn them on their heads. Changes need to be made, progress instilled.
Lying here with Sedona in my arms, everything is crystal clear. As if all I ever needed for actualization in life was to become Sedona’s mate. If I’m man—well, wolf in our case—enough to be her mate, I’ve become the alpha who can properly lead his pack. And that may mean doing things differently than my father did them.
Whoa. Is it true that part of my reluctance to move forward stems from a desire not to out-do my sire? Mind-boggling and stupid, but there it is. I’ve been holding back out of honor for my father. If he didn’t challenge the council, what made me think I should?
Unexpected grief seizes my chest. I feel disloyal for even thinking I can do better. But if I don’t, I will never, ever win my mate. How can I hope to bring Sedona to a broken pack? What life could I give her?
I drop a light kiss on her forehead and ease her out of my arms and under the covers. I need to do something about my rock hard cock, or sleep will be an impossibility. If I were a better wolf, I’d leave her here and go down to my own room. But that’s a fucking impossibility.
I will never leave Sedona of my own free will. Not unless she asks me to go.
I pad to the bathroom and shuck my clothes, climbing into the shower. Even with the water turned on cold, I can’t get my cock to shut down.
Fuck it. I’ll be better able to handle sleeping next to Sedona if I jerk off in here. I turn the temperature back to warm and fist my raging hard-on. All I have to do is think about Sedona, lying less than ten meters away. Naked.
I pump my hand over my cock, eyes already rolling back in my head. All I have to do is replay the moment I claimed her back in Monte Lobo, and I go off, coming against the shower wall, the heat of the water suddenly way too warm.
I change it to cold and rinse off.
Now, hopefully, I can lie next to her without danger of attacking her as she sleeps. I towel off and tug on my boxer briefs. But when I re-enter the bedroom, my cock lifts at the sight of her.
Hell. It’s going to be a killer-long night.
~.~
Sedona
I dream Carlos’ hands are all over me, stroking my bare skin. He’s growling something stern and domly that makes my toes curl.
No wait. Hold the phone. Those are Carlos’ hands all over me. One glides over my hip, the other tangles in my hair.
I’m awake.
But I’m not even sure he’s awake. His breath sounds slow, deep, and even like he’s sleeping. I think his hands are roaming of their own accord.
“Carlos?”
There’s a hitch in his breath and he stops stroking me. Then, judging by his resumed slow exhale, he slides back into slumber and begins the caress again.
Everywhere he touches me comes alive, heating and tingling. His hand strokes up my side, slides around to cup my breast. He squeezes it, rubbing his thumb over my nipple.
Seriously? The guy is so good in bed he can do it in his sleep? I should’ve followed up on my question about how many females he’s entertained this way.
I squeeze my thighs together to alleviate the thrum of renewed desire building there. I blink at the bedside clock. It’s four in the morning. If he keeps this up, I will never fall back to sleep.
I grasp his hand and slide it down between my legs.
Again, there’s a pause in his breath before it relaxes back into an even cadence, but his fingers know just what to do. He strokes into me. I’m shocked at how wet I’ve already become.
I moan. Carlos growls.
Is he awake now? I can’t tell.
“Carlos?”
The growls grow louder, his fingers quest deeper, parting my folds, penetrating me.
I choke out a cry and scissor my legs tight around his hand, hungry for full contact.
A snarl rips out of Carlos’ throat and suddenly I’m pinned flat on my belly, his hand gripping my nape, his knees knocking my thighs wider.
My breath leaves me in a whoosh when he drops his weight onto me, thrusting his stiff cock in the notch between my legs.
I almost laugh. His cock is shielded from my entrance by his boxers, but he’s no
t awake enough to realize. He growls in frustration, thrusting harder. If it weren’t for the hand at my nape, I’d go flying into the headboard he’s pounding so hard.
He figures out the problem and bares his cock and a half-second later he impales me with it. Fully. As in, to the hilt.
I cry out, not hurt, just shocked by the force and abandon of his thrusts. He pumps hard and fast, pistoning with powerful hip-snaps, slapping my ass with his loins. His growls fill the room, providing the bass to the soprano of my gasping cries.
I spread my legs wider, arch back to meet him, blinded with the deepest satisfaction.
Yes, this.
I never knew it could be so good. So right.
And sleep-fucking, no less.
Carlos’ growls choke off and his body jerks to a stop. “Puh.” He lets out a breath. He releases his grip on my nape and shoves the hair out of my face, but his hips start thrusting again, even faster than before.
I twist to look back, and he’s staring down at me, his brows drawn together in a tight line.
“Sedona, oh fates—” He shouts his release, his voice echoing off the walls.
I swear I feel his hot cum fill me. I shove my hand down between my legs and rub my clit as I follow him to the finish.
He groans, still coming and rolls us toward our sides, reaching around to grasp both my breasts as he continues to thrust into me. His breath burns hot on my neck as he kneads my breasts, pinching my nipples.
I come again—an aftershock almost as good as the first one.
Carlos sucks and kisses my neck, groaning. I get the feeling he’s still coming back to consciousness. “Sedona, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” The fingers I’m using on my clit scrape the base of his cock and he catches my wrist, pulling it up in front of our faces. “What is this?” His accent is so thick, so sexy. He takes my fingers into his mouth and sucks.
My pussy contracts as if he were sucking down there.
“Mi amor, you don’t touch yourself when you’re in bed with me. That’s my job.”
My heart, already racing from our interlude, picks up speed at the gravelly scolding.
He sucks my fingers again. “Mmm. You taste delicious, ángel. I’m sorry I didn’t do my job well this time. I was, uh…”
“Asleep?” I giggle.
He drops his head into my neck and laughs. “I’m so sorry,” he groans. “Did I hurt you? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.”
He lifts his head, peering into my face with an intensity that makes my pulse jump. “You sure? I didn’t mean to do that to you, beautiful. I jacked off before I came to bed so I wouldn’t force myself on you, and then I went and did it in my sleep. Without protection.”
He looks so genuinely rueful.
“I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t like it.”
A look of wonder creeps over his face. “It was okay? You liked it?”
“I knew you were asleep. I was sort of amazed that you got so far with me without waking up. There ought to be an award for that or something.”
He’s still slowly pumping into me, even though we’ve both come and his cock is softening. He reaches between my legs and taps my clit lightly. “I deserve no award if you had to satisfy yourself, mi amor.”
A second aftershock ripples through me. A little one this time, but no less pleasurable.
“Never again.” He’s pulling out the bossy tone once more. “I will be the one to give you pleasure, ángel. It’s my duty. One I promise to take very seriously.”
I want to giggle but he sounds dead serious. Like he’s swearing a vow on his father’s grave.
“O-okay.” I don’t know what else to say.
He lands an epic bite-suck-kiss on my neck. “Nobody else touches this,” he growls, his voice low with warning. “Not even you.”
I shiver at the possibility of more punishment at his hands if I disobey. The idea thrills me and I can hardly wait to try it out, but I play along. “Okay.”
He nips the outer shell of my ear. “Good girl.”
Warmth curls through me at his words and I settle back into his arms. Maybe I will be able to fall back to sleep.
11
Carlos
I carry coffee and croissants from the train snack cart to where Sedona sketches on her pad. The trip from Paris to Barcelona takes six and a half hours by speed train and I’ve done everything I can think of to make things easy and enjoyable for Sedona. I bought us comfort class tickets and paid for three seats instead of two so we wouldn’t have to sit with anyone else. I set up her phone to charge in the outlet between our seats and offered her my iPod and earbuds for music.
I love to watch her work, so absorbed in her sketch of a fairy alight a flower.
She barely looks up as I set the food down on my tray, but I don’t take offense. I don’t want to intrude on her time, I’m just grateful she’s allowed me to take care of her.
I pull my phone out and call Monte Lobo. It’s Sunday, and it was my habit when away to call my mother on Sundays. Of course, she doesn’t have her own phone, since technology is banned for all but the council and alpha.
I call Don Santiago, who acts as a sort of gatekeeper for the pack. Almost all transmissions go through him. I don’t like Don Santiago—I don’t like any of the council members—but he’s probably the most capable. Like me, he went to university. He has an advanced degree, even worked for a time in a genetics lab in Mexico City. He’s been out in the world enough to understand how things work, including technology and how best to use it. He was the one responsible for getting the mountain wired for Wi-Fi despite the rest of the council’s dire predictions that connecting us to the world would lead to our destruction.
Don Santiago answers on the second ring. “Carlos.” He always goes for this hearty, grandfatherly tone with me.
“Hello, Don Santiago,” I say in Spanish. “How are things?” It’s the same conversation we had every week I was away in college.
“All is well here, mijo.” He calls me my son, which always makes me bristle.
I don’t let it slide this time. “Carlos. Or Don Carlos. Not son.” I’m pleased I can say it coolly with nary a growl.
“Of course, I’m sorry Don Carlos,” Don Santiago smooths. “It’s just that I’ve known you since you were a baby.”
“And now I’m alpha.”
“Yes, of course. No one challenges that.”
For some reason his words make the hairs on my arms stand up. He said it too quickly, too easily. As if I really do need to worry that there will be a challenge. I store that away to chew on later.
“Did you find your female, Carlos?”
I stifle a growl again. I don’t like anyone talking about my female, especially not any of the fucking council members. “I found her.”
“And?”
This time I do rumble. “I am taking her to Barcelona. A honeymoon of sorts.” I glance guiltily at Sedona, even though she doesn’t speak Spanish. I’m not sure she would appreciate my calling this a honeymoon, since she hasn’t agreed to be my mate, but I’m just saying the thing Santiago wants to hear. To get him off my fucking back. “Is my mother available?” I ask impatiently.
“I’m walking to her quarters now. Let’s see if she’s coherent today.”
I gnash my teeth, even though it’s not Don Santiago’s fault whether she’s coherent or not. In fact, I used to depend on Don Santiago to be the one who would give it to me straight about my mother. But after Maria Jose’s suggestion I have someone else look at her, a seed of doubt has crept in. Does Don Santiago have her best interest at heart? What if they’re not giving her the best care possible? What if I should have sought to return her to her own family after my father died?
It’s not too late—I can look into it when I return. Yet another issue to address.
I hear Don Santiago’s voice and my mother’s in response, then she comes on the line. “Carlos?”
“Hello, Mamá. How’s it go
ing?”
“Carlos? Where are you?”
“I’m in Barcelona, Mamá, with the girl I told you about.”
“In Barcelona?” She sounds confused. Nothing new there.
“Yes, with my female.”
My mom gives a loud gasp, and a spike of fear rushes through me before she proclaims, “How wonderful! Carlos has a mate.”
“Are you crying, Mamá?”
“I’m just so happy for you, Carlos. When are you going to bring her home?”
“I’m not sure.” A fact which kills me. “Soon, I hope.” Not a lie—I can always hope.
“Grandpups. I want grandpups, Carlos.”
A rush of longing goes through me so strongly I have to close my eyes. Sedona, pregnant with my pup. My entire life would be worth living if that were the case. And I would damn well make sure their life was perfect.
I clear my throat. “I want that, too, Mamá.”
Sedona is looking over at me with curiosity, taking her ear buds out of her ears.
“Listen, Mamá, I have to go. I’ll call you next week. Take care of yourself.”
“I love you, Carlitos, mijo. Bring the she-wolf back here. I want to meet her.”
“Yes, Mamá. I love you, too. Ciao.”
I end the call and turn to Sedona and shrug. “My mother.”
“Was she—” Sedona seems to struggle for the words. I appreciate her sensitivity.
“She was mostly coherent. I told her about you.” I fidget with the croissants, pulling one out of the paper sleeve to offer it to her.
“What did you say?”
“Well, I told her about you the morning you left, but she’d forgotten. I told her I was here with you now. She cried.”
Sedona’s watching me too intently for comfort. I break off a piece of croissant and pop it between her lips.
“I am capable of feeding myself, you know.”
“I like to feed you.”
She smiles as she chews. “I know you do. So, why did she cry?”
“She’s happy for me. I didn’t tell her any of the, uh, history. Only that I’m here with my female—a female,” I amend.
