Before Gwen could respond, Ria, now finished bandaging Rachel’s ankle and setting it carefully on the discarded sock, pushed to her feet. Face tilted up to Beth, she answered for the female ranger. “Because we want her to worry every second of every day for the rest of her life that we’ll retaliate in kind.”
Rachel shuddered at the cold promise. “Bloodthirsty lot.”
“We protect what’s ours,” was Porter’s fierce declaration. “And vengeance is ours.”
* * * *
“It’s been what, like two hours? And your knees look like it’s been two days.” Apparently fascinated at the rate Rachel was healing, Gwen stared at Rachel’s scabbed knees. Rachel nipped off that open interest by twitching her skirt lower.
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less.” Sitting next to Rachel on the couch in her suite, Melinda snapped a hard-sided, dark blue bag shut. Her medical kit. “And with accelerated healing comes different problems. You need to keep your knees bent so you don’t continually reopen the wounds. And make sure your sprained ankle stays elevated.”
“I will. Thank you.” Rachel nodded, aching everywhere. Thankfully the painkillers Melinda had given her were starting to dull that ache and, with the addition of a now full tummy, she was feeling sleepy.
After a quick shower to get rid of the remaining dirt, she’d dressed in a long, lightweight skirt and short-sleeved top. Gwen had arranged the loose pillows serving as couch cushions so Rachel wasn’t slumping and Melinda had slathered some weird-smelling balm on her sprained ankle, telling her it would help ease the swelling and stiffness.
While Rachel rather enjoyed the fussing, she simply hated putting the women out. “Sorry about all of this.”
“It’s not your fault, honey, so there’s no need to apologize. If anything, that horrible woman should be apologizing. On her knees. With her face in the mud.”
When Rachel lifted round eyes to Melinda, the older woman shrugged. “I’m angry at her. What can I say?”
Rachel glanced down at her re-wrapped ankle and generally ignored Gwen’s snickering from the overstuffed chair. One foot was planted on the floor while her other rested on a throw pillow set on top of the coffee table. “I never should have egged her on. Turned my back.”
Two fingers tilted her chin up and around in a not-so-gentle motion. “Once again, you are not at fault. Period. Unless you threatened to kill her. Did you?”
“No!” Appalled and offended, Rachel reared away and pressed deeper into the pillows at her back. “Of course not.”
Melinda gave one sharp nod. “Exactly. She’s been fixated on Porter for a long time, and while I know my idiot son has taken advantage of that interest a time or ten, she didn’t believe him when he finally broke things off.”
“Comes every month or so, making a nuisance out of herself,” Gwen supplied, a repeat of Rome’s statement yesterday in the office.
“Hmm. But no more. While I prefer seeing her behind bars, Porter and Ria are right, if not a little wrong. Seeking vengeance, holding hate in one’s heart, isn’t healthy.” Melinda shook her head. “It will twist you up inside until it colors your world in bitter ugliness. A soul-destroying poison we expect the other person to drink.”
“It’s not like we’re going to sit around the rest of our lives, plotting her demise,” Gwen put in when Melinda pointedly flicked her gaze at the ranger. “But the threat of it will make Beth extremely wary her whole life. A couple of trips to the mall where she works, a few hard glances to reinforce the threat. Done deal.”
Gwen waved that off as if she were swatting an annoying fly. “Frankly, she’s not important. You, on the other hand, are important.” A toothy grin had her eyes sparkling. “You’re also now officially part of the club.”
Rachel folded her hands on her lap, looked where Gwen lounged, one booted foot resting on her opposite knee. “What do you mean, ‘part of the club’?”
Gwen nodded at Rachel’s lower limbs. “You’ve been hurt in the pit of despair. I got banged up when the building on top of it collapsed, then Ria dislocated her shoulder. Though that was actually in the cave. Now you. All by circumstances we couldn’t have predicted and all caused by undesirables.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Even if Rome hadn’t told me about the mating heat between you and Porter, the love bite on your neck and the fact you were hurt in the ruin would have made me speculate about a future wedding.”
Rocked to her core, Rachel gaped at Gwen, incapable of speech. As the words seeped in, blinders were ripped off, revealing a truth her feline half had been telling her all along. She just hadn’t listened.
As if realizing the magnitude of the bomb she’d just dropped, Gwen mirrored Rachel’s surprise. “You didn’t know? How could you not know?”
“Gwen,” Melinda chided softly. “Stop now before you put your other boot in your mouth.”
Gwen’s eyes flitted from Melinda to Rachel. “No. Really. I’m sorry that I sprang this on you, but you’re a shifter. Aren’t you supposed to know these things?”
Wetting numb lips, Rachel shook her head. “Porter. He said it wasn’t the mating heat.”
No, he only told you what you told him to tell you.
Rachel shut her eyes and groaned as she was reminded, way too gleefully, about that particular distinction.
Now it all made sense. The deliriously strong physical attraction, the constant craving for his touch, the acute reaction to his scent, the mood swings.
And Porter. His hurt and anger when she’d tried to sneak out of his home yesterday, thinking Rachel had only slept with him as an adventure, something to spice up her life. A roll in the hay with the stable boy. If she’d just been another willing female he was attracted to, her leaving wouldn’t have riled his temper like it had.
But from his mate? The rejection would have flayed his self-confidence, his very being, to shreds.
Hell. Hadn’t she thought the same thing? Tried to keep a distance because she somehow knew that loving and leaving Porter would tear her own soul apart? He was a charming playboy. A casual flirt. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined she had the ability to hurt him. She’d been too concerned at protecting herself.
Mates. She thought it the ultimate of adventures. To have that special someone at your side for the rest of your life. To love and treasure, to create a family with and grow old together. But now that it seemed emanate, she simply didn’t know what to think. Groaning again, Rachel hunched over and dropped her head into her hands.
“Hey.” Gwen moved to sit next to her, sandwiching Rachel between the ranger and Melinda, and rubbed her back in long strokes. “It’s not the end of the world. I mean, come on. Porter’s a really good-looking guy. He’s sweet and charming and smart. And Ria says he’s got the tightest butt she’s ever seen.”
Rachel peeked at Gwen through her fingers. “Ria’s seen him naked?” It made Rachel’s blood boil. And here she’d actually liked the vamp. Now she wanted to do some damage to that pretty face.
“It wasn’t anything,” Gwen said, clearly unnerved at the growl rumbling in the back of Rachel’s throat. “After a shift. That’s all. In the cave. You know, it was so dark in there she probably didn’t see a thing.” She made a face. “Would it help to say she also saw Rome naked?”
That casually offered information halted Rachel’s temper before it exploded, making her pause and ease down. After a minute she raised her head and met Gwen’s distressed ones. “Actually, I think it would even us out if we both saw Santos naked.”
Melinda choked on a laugh and Gwen hooted. “I totally agree. Ria might have a fit, but an eye for an eye and all that. Or in the case of naked men...”
“Gwen,” Melinda snapped before Gwen could paint a vivid picture. “Those are my sons you’re talking about.”
“Sure.” Gwen
nodded. “And when Del gets home, we’ll have five gorgeous men at our beck and call.”
A sigh for the future. “November can’t come soon enough. I so worry about him, tromping off to God knows where doing God knows what. Wait. Five?” Melinda queried, perplexed.
“Definitely. Andreas sure hasn’t lost his looks. He’s smokin’ hot.”
Melinda’s face softened in love. “Yes. Yes he most definitely is.” Then she scowled, pushing to her feet with one shaking finger as a knock reverberated on the door of the suite. “Don’t even think about getting a peek at him naked. He’s all mine.”
Rachel’s yawn cut off her chuckle even as Porter’s deep voice reached her ears. “How’s she doing?”
“She needs some rest, but come see for yourself. Gwen?”
At Melinda’s call, Gwen rose from the couch. “Sounds like my cue.” She leaned down to whisper in Rachel’s ear. “Please don’t beat him up over the mate thing. Men’s egos can be so fragile, and during this period, their emotions are completely whacked.”
Porter wasn’t the only one whose emotions were whacked, but Rachel only nodded and watched as the two women left and Porter approached.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Rachel had to tilt her head way back as he remained standing. It felt so heavy and the pillow so comfortable, she decided to leave it there forever.
He looked her over, anger flashing in his eyes when they landed on her propped ankle. “I wanted to tell you that Beth’s gone and not welcome back. Ever. Christa left with her, though I have a feeling their friendship is at an end.”
“Okay.” Her lids were starting to droop, her lashes falling to her cheeks in a slow blink.
“You’re tired.”
“Hmm. A bit.”
“More than a bit, I’d say.” He came closer, brushed his hand over her hair. “Why don’t you lie back and get some sleep?”
“Gotta keep my knees bent. Ankle raised.” She could hear the slurring of her words. What the hell had Melinda given her?
“Of course.”
She watched him remove, re-fluff, and rearrange cushions and pillows through a fog. The man was sweet, caring for her comfort. It made her frown. There was a reason for it, something far more important than simple compassion for another in need. Unfortunately, her muddled thoughts couldn’t land on the answer.
“Let’s swing you around. Put your foot up here.” With the trust of a sleepy child, Rachel eased onto her back and let him steer her ankle to the padded arm of the couch.
“Porter?”
His face appeared over hers, his hand once again sweeping gently through her hair. “Yes, mi amada?”
“Whasthamean?” The question blurred into one word.
His smile warmed the deepest recesses of his eyes and was so pretty she wanted to kiss it a thousand times over.
“My beloved.”
“Hmmm.” Her eyes dropped again. “Like it.”
“I mean it.” His mouth pressed against her forehead, her lips. “Sleep now.”
She lifted a weighty arm to touch the hand on her cheek. “Stay?”
A pause. “If you like.”
“Like.”
She was almost asleep by the time she felt him turn her on her side and slip in behind so he was between the hard back of the couch and Rachel. His legs tangled with hers, though he never dislodged her ankle and made sure her knees remained bent.
She was so warm now. Sleepy and warm and cuddled up next to the man she’d tried so hard not to fall in love with.
“Mate.”
The soft purr of that possessive word was the last sound she heard. She never knew if it came from Porter, or from her own lips.
Chapter Nineteen
Hot. She was so hot. Rachel pried open her eyes and stared at the neatly folded pile of clothes on the coffee table in front of her, the cowboy boots on the carpeted floor. She blinked, finally registering the strong male arm about her waist, the hard press of a masculine body aligned behind her.
And the very impressive erection nestling along her backside.
Porter. No wonder she was burning up. The man was a living furnace. Not to mention whenever he was near, she felt on fire herself. Needy. Even now that unquenchable need presented in long, languid coils of desire, making her damp between her thighs. Her breasts felt swollen, her nipples tight little points that begged for his touch.
But why was he here?
In an instant, everything fell into place; the discovery in the cave, Beth pushing her over the edge of the ruin, Melinda and Gwen fussing over her.
Gwen.
Rachel stiffened as Gwen’s revelation sprung to the forefront of her mind.
Porter was Rachel’s mate. Or Rachel was Porter’s mate. Either way, they were mates.
The arm about her waist lifted, his hand running over her arm from bare shoulder to wrist and back again. “You okay?”
She looked down at her blue, green, and white polka-dotted bra. “What happened to my shirt?”
“You muttered you were too hot and took it off.”
A vague memory surfaced. As did another involving a couple of painkillers. “I’m never taking another pill your mother hands me.”
A sleepy chuckle that teased her hair. “Don’t say that until you consider how you feel.”
Skeptical, Rachel took inventory of the various aches and pains that had jarred every joint, and found none. Still dubious, she rotated her ankle, felt a twinge of discomfort.
“Hey, now. Just because you feel better doesn’t mean you’re ready to go dancing.” His hand moved down to tighten around her hip. A hip that only carried the band of her matching polka-dotted panties.
She stared, brows drawn together as she tried to remember. “I took off my skirt as well?”
“Yes, well,” Porter cleared his throat. “I helped with that.” His hand trailed over the front of her panties. “I do like these. A lot. Especially this dot here.”
That dot being right over a hard bundle of nerves at the junction of her legs. The resulting zip of pleasure had her jolting, her breath harsh as she sucked in air.
His lips brushed across her temple, the crisp rasp of stubble another erotic sensation. “Am I hurting you?”
She wiggled against that frozen finger. “Only if you stop. But don’t rip these.”
With a thick sound of agreement, he shifted and wiggled, deftly removing her panties and his boxers. When he resumed his position, he slid one hand under her neck, tilting it up so he could lay his mouth on hers. She returned his kiss with eager passion, seeking and taking as she welcomed him inside to explore and taste.
His other hand snapped open her bra, tossed it carelessly to the floor. The whole time his mouth melded to hers, his tongue plunging deep with possessive dominance. With one hand still bracing her head, he ran his other along the outside of her thigh, over her hip, up the smooth skin of her belly until he brushed the underside of one breast.
Breaking the lip-lock, Porter trailed sweet kisses down to her ear, where he teased the delicate pink shell with the tip of his tongue. Then he closed his teeth over the lobe and tugged.
She moaned, remembering all too well how he’d played with her ear before, and how he’d used his clever tongue and teeth to rid her of a single earring.
Not that she would remind him about that now. Oh no. Not when his free hand was journeying back south, parting her damp sex to fondle her throbbing clit.
“I love the feel of you against my fingers.” He slipped a finger deeper through her soft, silky folds, gathering her juices, and returned to play with that aching nub. Her legs shifted, parting in restless anticipation. “I loved how you felt against my tongue, too, Rachel. So creamy and sweet.”
His breath wa
s hot and moist against her neck, the naughty words a rough sensory caress that stoked the fire of her need. Another rush of liquid desire flooded her system. Wrapping one hand around his wrist, she reached over her head to burrow the other in his thick hair. “You shouldn’t say such things.” She tossed his words back at him.
“Why?” he growled. “It’s sexy. Erotic.” He rimmed the entrance of her body with a teasing finger, circling the ring of muscles that clenched at him in desperation. “And you like it.” One finger delved into her core, making her tighten around him on a jagged cry, her hips rocking helplessly against the penetration. “Makes you even hotter.”
He leaned over her side, opening his lips on her breast, drawing the pebbled nipple deep into his mouth.
Her moan of pleasure crackled into a hiss when he used that clever tongue to press the hard bud to the roof of his mouth and suckle in great greedy gulps.
“Oh, God.” Her hips churned against his hand in jerky motions when he added a second finger to the mix, plunging knuckle-deep inside. She rode his hand with abandon, craving the intense pleasure with a mind gone numb. Between those sure thrusts and the moist suction at her breast, Rachel was drowning in unrestrained sensations so searing, she was certain her bones were melting.
More than ready for him to fill her with something longer, thicker, she reached between their bodies and curled her fingers around his engorged cock. He flinched at the intimate contact, shuddered at the uneven strokes along his heavy length.
“Rachel.” Her name was a gritty benediction. “Ah, baby. Wait. I need a condom.” She curved her hand, caressing him now in short pumps from the tip, her fingers little vises along his shaft, the head of his dick bumping into her palm. “Right back pocket of my jeans. Get it for me.”
He gave her a sharp nip on her neck when she didn’t immediately comply, too lost in the steely velvet of his skin. But when he withdrew his fingers from between her thighs, she let him go, and, leaning up on an elbow, reached for his pants.
Haze of Heat Page 18
