"What have you got?"
He named off several things, all of which were strong enough to take down a horse, which was what most werewolves needed for it to be effective.
"Just pick one before I start to heal with these all crooked,” I said finally.
He handed me some pills and a glass of water. I took them unquestioningly. Within about ten minutes they were working. That's another good thing about having a fast metabolism. Pain medicine might not last as long, but it worked fast.
When Marco began to run the needle through my skin, I felt a slight tugging sensation, but no pain. He had obviously done this before.
"What did you land on exactly? This was way too much glass for a beer bottle."
"It looked like a giant mason jar."
"Shit,” I heard him clip the thread.
"Yeah, well at least it's not in your back."
"Do you scar?"
"Not since my attack,” I said.
"Good. I'd hate for something so stupid to ruin such beautiful skin.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss on my shoulder. “All done. You still hungry?"
My stomach growled before I could answer. “Actually, I am."
Marco led me into the bedroom where he helped me slip into one of his silk robes. This one was black and reached to my ankles. My back felt stiff when I moved and I dreaded trying to drive home. Of course, it was still storming outside, so that might be a while. Hurricane Alistair had moved further upstate and would shortly be downscaled to a tropical storm, but the weather was still awful.
I sat at one of the barstools in the kitchen and watched Marco cook breakfast. After setting a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me he asked, “How quickly do you heal?"
"It depends on the injury. Light bruises and minor stuff is usually healed over night. Cuts, like the ones on my back may take up to a week. Why?"
"I may know of a faster way for you to heal. That is unless you want to drive home with stitches in your back?"
"Well, I'd prefer to avoid it,” I said around a mouthful of toast. “What's you're idea?"
"Sleep with me,” he said, while he got some juice out of the fridge.
I started to choke on my eggs and he added, “I mean literally, sleep.” He handed me a glass of juice and I gulped it down. “Still got your mind in my pants, Red?” he chuckled.
"I really hate you."
"So you keep saying, but you didn't hate me very much last night."
"I was cold.” It was a weak defense.
He laughed. “Sure, and we weren't lying on top of a thick comforter. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Red.” He winked.
After breakfast, he suggested that we lie down while the pain killers were still working and I would be able to fall asleep more easily. When we got back into the bedroom, he started to strip.
"Whoa! Wait a minute! What are you doing?"
"Can't you ever just trust me?"
"No, I want an explanation."
He sighed resignedly. “Injured wolves recover faster with rest. Their recovery is also speeded by the nearness of pack members."
"What's that got to do with you getting naked?"
"It only works if I can touch your injury with my bare skin.” The way he spoke those last few words did something for me. But then again, just looking at Marco did something for me. I had no idea how I could lay in a bed with him, naked. I wasn't entirely sure I could control myself. And through the fog of sedation, I wasn't sure I wanted to. The one thing I was sure of was that if I had sex with Marco, I would regret it in the morning.
"Marco, I don't know if I can lay here with you naked."
"I promise to hold back.” He seemed serious.
"Hold back?"
"You're not the only one with sexual powers you know. For some werewolves, it just comes with the territory."
"And you're one of those werewolves?"
He nodded with a sexy smile.
"I knew you were trying to seduce me.” I pointed a finger at him.
His laugh floated over my skin and gave me chills. “I'm not the one who's in denial,” he said.
I took a deep breath and decided that for both our sakes, I should be as completely honest as possible. “I'll be straight with you, Marco. Even if you do hold back, there's only so much I can take.” It griped my butt to admit how he affected me, but it was true.
His smile was everything you'd expect the devil to be as he responded smoothly, “You've got ten stitches in your back, Red."
"You've obviously underestimated the effect you have on me."
Marco's smile began to fade, and there was a tenderness in his eyes that made me want to trust him. “Can't you just let me comfort you?"
"I'm not sure,” I whispered.
"Didn't you find me comforting last night?"
"I certainly did, with all of your clothes on."
He laughed. “At least give me a chance. I can control how much of my power that you feel.” He opened his arms and reached for me. “You're not mine to protect ... you're really not mine at all, but you're here now, and I need to be near you."
I stepped into his embrace and wrapped my arms around him. Marco was bare from the waist up and I pressed my face against the soft hair on his chest. It hurt to move my arms because it flexed the skin over my back, but I didn't care. The soft warm skin of his back was too irresistible not to caress. As I ran my hands over his muscular arms, I rubbed my face against him like a cat. Marco had the most amazingly well built physique. He was muscular without being overdone. In every way that was observable to the naked eye, Marco was just right.
He reached into the front of the robe I was wearing and slid it down past my shoulders.
"Let me help you, Red."
He slid the robe down around my waist and I didn't stop him. As Marco ran his warm hands over the cuts on my back he looked at my face even though my breasts were exposed. I appreciated the eye contact. Marco's touch was like a drug to me and I felt weaker the more he touched me.
I placed my hands just over the sinuous curve of his hips and pressed myself against him. The way the hair on his chest felt pressed against my bare breasts was all I had imagined it would be. In my mind I was taken back to that first night when I'd seen him in the club and later handcuffed him to a chair for questioning. That evening in my hotel room I had dreamed about Marco and how good it would feel to touch him this way. But my dreams which were usually so vivid could not compare to the reality of having him hold me like that.
After a few minutes, my back felt less stiff and I told him so.
"Now do you believe me?” he asked lazily. Apparently I wasn't the only one that our contact was having a drugging effect on.
"I always believed you,” I said looking up at him. “I just kept hoping there was an alternative to being naked and alone with you."
He smiled down at me. “Why?"
"To keep me from doing this,” I whispered.
I allowed myself to do something that I had wanted to do for months. I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. His lips were warm, and full, and willing. The contact was soft and tender. I had kissed Marco before, but not like this. This kiss was without the same hunger or the passion of the night he'd been cuffed to the chair. I had wanted to crawl inside of him and roll around for a while.
What I felt now was a genuine desire to be a part of him. Marco's touch was absent of the supernatural powers of the wolf. He simply touched me like a man who cared. He didn't take the opportunity to grope me while I was vulnerable. Though I appreciated that, part of me wished he would. I could control my ability to read people's emotions to a certain extent. However, when my guard was compromised by drugs, injury, and contact with naked skin, there was only so much that I could block. The emotion I picked up from Marco was not the raw lust I would have expected, but a desire to know more of me. I had never felt such need. He wanted to be whatever he needed to be ... as long as he was mine.
Just that knowledge was enough to m
ake me want him. Combine that with the fact that Marco was beyond desirable even without the emotions and anyone could see my dilemma. I ran my fingertips around the top of his pants as I desperately fought the urge the snatch them around his ankles.
He deepened the kiss and my knees would no longer support me. Marco held me gently, so as not to tear my stitches, but I was not as careful. In fact, by this time, I'd forgotten I even had stitches. When I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck, I was very forcefully reminded.
"Son of a bitch,” I said hotly.
Marco leaned back and said quickly, “I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself.” He seemed to come out of the fog we'd both been in as he said, “Wait a minute, you kissed me. Why am I a son of a bitch?"
I laughed, and it hurt. “Not you. I think I pulled my stitches."
He winced. “That's gotta hurt."
"Yeah, it does. I appreciate your compassion,” I said sarcastically.
He stepped forward and pulled the sash on the black robe. Without further effort, it fell to the floor. Marco walked around me and I could feel his eyes on my back.
"It's alright,” he said. “Nothing's bleeding. Besides, those pills should still be working."
"They are. It only hurts when I do something stupid."
"You must be in constant pain,” he drawled.
Marco hugged me against him and his body felt good against my back, almost like a balm. I was still fighting the urge to snatch those red pajamas around his ankles.
"Marco?"
"Yes,” he whispered against my ear.
"I've got a problem."
"Besides the obvious ones? What's that?"
"My mind is in your pants again."
He laughed, causing the hairs on his chest to tickle me with the movement.
"That's only a problem for one of us."
He tilted my head to the side and pressed his lips into the curve between my neck and shoulder. My knees went weak again. I was so aroused just from his touch that I was already near orgasm. Like I had mentioned before, Marco just flat did it for me.
"I can't do this,” I panted.
"Sure you can. It's like riding a bike.” His rough voice vibrated along the sensitive skin of my throat. It probably wasn't the brightest idea, allowing a werewolf such intimate access to my throat, but I took my chances.
"But, I can't,” I nearly cried with frustration.
"Why not?"
When Marco turned me to face him, I expected to see anger, but found concern instead.
"Because I can't do this without it meaning something ... and I'm not ready for what it might mean."
"I understand.” He sighed.
"Really?"
"Yes,” he breathed against my hair as he embraced me again.
"You're not angry?"
"Let me explain something to you,” he said patiently.
There was a long pause while I observed the contours of his handsome face before I asked, “What is there to explain?"
"I'm trying to think of a way to word this."
I snuggled against his chest again as he asked, “You have a lot of shoes in your closet, right?"
"Of course, I'm a woman."
"Well, you know that pair way in the back? You really like them, but you don't wear them that often. Some days, you may not even think about them. But you always know they're there, when you need something ... comfortable to fall back on."
He paused and took a deep breath before confessing, “I am content to be that comfortable pair of shoes at the back of your closet."
Tears stung the backs of my eyes and I fought them. It broke my heart to know he would allow me to treat him that way ... and at the moment I didn't have much choice.
"I understand that you have some things to sort out for yourself. But make no mistake, I am not the one that is confused about my feelings,” he said.
"I'm sorry,” I whispered against his bicep as I leaned into him and he wrapped me up more tightly.
"Don't be sorry, Red. Just think about it."
"But what are we going to do now?"
"Well, you can't drive home until your back is healed. And even if you did, the whole area around your house is out of power."
"What are you suggesting?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm telling you to spend the night with me."
"But, it's just now afternoon. What are we going to do all that time?"
He smiled his wolfish smile and I was glad he didn't suggest something more explicit, because I could not have refused that smile.
"You'll learn not to ask me such questions, Red. I'm not always a nice guy."
"I know you're The Big Bad Wolf."
"So, your friend has nicknamed me. But, she's right."
"You're not that way with me,” I insisted.
"Only with you,” he nearly whispered. “You make me your toy, but to others I am a force to be reckoned with."
"So I've heard."
"Yes, but you've never seen. It's obvious in the way you look at me that you have no idea what I'm capable of."
"That goes both ways."
He growled at me, but it was done playfully.
"Look, if this is going to turn into a pissing contest could we hurry it up? I've got to pee."
He laughed as I started to walk toward the bathroom.
"I'll be waiting for you.” He smiled suggestively. "Naked."
I closed the door behind me and leaned my forehead against the wood. I couldn't remember ever being more aroused in my life. Something about the very nearness of Marco did things to me that took other men time. I didn't actually have to pee, but there was no delicate way to say that I was so worked up I needed a towel.
When I walked back out into the bedroom, Marco was reclined against the pillows with his arms crossed behind his head. The muscles of his torso looked like they had been sculpted by the hands of a master artist. He grinned from ear to ear and I remembered that I was stark naked. With my eyes I followed the trail of hair that formed a v-shaped pattern over his chest and trailed down his abs in a fine line. It didn't help that I knew the hair to be as soft as it looked. The comforter was pulled back and the silken red sheet draped over his lower body, gracefully covering the rest of him. I took the two steps up toward the bed and just stood there.
"Come here,” he said softly.
With those words he brushed the covers aside and I caught a glimpse of the curve of his hip as well as the top of his bare thigh. Carefully I crawled onto the bed to avoid pulling the skin around my stitches.
As I sat there and looked at Marco, I realized that I was waiting for him to tell me what to do. It was a strange feeling, but it came naturally.
"Lie on your side,” he whispered.
I turned to face the bathroom door and felt Marco slide into place behind me. He was firm and warm ... and comforting. As he pressed his upper body against my back I sighed. The touch of his skin soothed my injury. I pressed my hips back into the curve of his body and noticed that he'd tucked part of the sheet between us, preventing me from touching all of him.
"Relax,” he whispered as he slipped his arm around my waist.
I did. My body melted back against his, molding to the curve of his thighs. Only the thin fabric of the sheet separated all of his warm flesh from touching mine. My legs brushed against his, reaching only slightly further down his shins than Alfred's.
Marco pulled me more tightly against his chest and snuggled his face into the curve of my neck as he once again cupped my right breast in his hand.
"You're so warm,” I whispered.
"The better to snuggle with,” he purred near my ear and I giggled.
I breathed deeply and my stitches didn't pull. In fact, I couldn't even feel them. Sleep tried to claim me and I fought it.
"Let yourself relax, Red. I won't hurt you."
"It's not that,” I said sleepily.
I believed Marco would watch over me in my sleep and protect me, even from himsel
f. The truth was I didn't want to miss one minute of the way his body felt against mine.
"Then what is it?” he whispered softly, as his voice grew deeper with the effort it took to control himself.
"I don't want to miss you."
"I'm not going anywhere, Red."
I sighed in frustration, trying to fight the drowsiness caused by drugs and the nearness of Marco's warm body. In my half conscious state I whispered, “I've dreamed of you. There's been hardly a moment when you're not in my mind."
Marco nuzzled the side of my neck as he said, “And when you wake up, I'll be in your bed."
"No, Marco, I'm in yours."
"My bed or my dreams?"
I touched the hand that cupped my breast and knew the answer.
"Both,” I whispered.
The rain began to fall again as Marco curled more tightly around me.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?” he asked.
"That I can't stay."
"Don't spend today thinking about tomorrow."
"Then what should I do?"
"Be here. Be with me now, not tomorrow in your dreams. Don't waste this moment worrying about a day that may never come."
I moved my arm over Marco's and pulled him closer to me. He reached his other arm underneath me and cradled my head against his bicep. As I breathed in his scent I realized that I'd lied to Alfred when I said that Marco wasn't a part of the picture. Compared to the arms that gently held me, my comments seemed cruel. Marco was much more than the ugly brown paper on the back of the frame. In fact, the more I was near him, the more he became a portrait all his own.
His body moved against my back with every breath. Part of me wanted to roll toward him and pull back the sheet. But the rest of me ached for sleep. The sleepy half won.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seventeen
I awoke to Marco's scent on my pillow and stretched out on my stomach across the silky sheets with a sigh. The next thing I was aware of was a clipping sound and something tugging at my back. Then I remembered where I was.
"Marco?"
"It's alright. I'm removing your stitches,” he answered from behind me.
For a moment I was so lost in the deep rumble of his sleepy voice that what he said didn't quite register.
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