by Hettie Ivers
“I do! I am,” she barked defensively. “I am already in pain! I’ve been in pain for thirteen fucking hours now; where the hell have you been?” Stupid, supercilious, hot wolf baby doctor.
Kai pursed his lips, looking annoyed. Then he turned to Marissa. “Go. Make sure Alcaeus stays occupied. Do whatever is necessary to draw and keep him away until I contact you with news of the birth.”
Marissa nodded dutifully. And then she left.
Huh? Lupe liked Marissa. She’d always been one of the sweeter of the female werewolves Lupe had encountered at the Reinoso compound. And Marissa always assisted Kai. She’d consistently been present during each and every one of Lupe’s many pregnancy examinations. Lupe couldn’t fathom what had possessed Kai to send Marissa away now of all times, and for the remainder of the birth?
“Wha—why’d you—? Hey!” Lupe whined. “Bring Marissa back!”
Kai leaned over her, and the look in his eyes instantly shut her up. She wasn’t sure why. He looked calm and collected enough, as was his usual physician demeanor. But there was something else there in his chocolate soufflé depths … something dark. Forbidding.
“I’m in charge here, Lupe,” he whispered.
Helpless to look away, she momentarily forgot about the painful contraction pulling her cervix apart.
She swallowed. Nodded.
“This is what you want, Lupe,” Kai continued, his deep voice sounding almost … seductive … practically a purr as his hand traveled over her big belly, down to the top of her pubic bone.
“Breathe,” he instructed, placing his other hand on her left breast, over her heart. “Relax. Breathe for me, Lupe.”
She did. It was pretty much all she could manage with him looking at her like that. With his hand on her breast. The other one so close to her crotch.
Wait … He was her doctor! He’d been all up in her genitalia and had felt her mammaries loads of times throughout her pregnancy. Why was she getting all weird and flustered by it now? When he was about to be way, way all up in her sex like no one had ever been before?
Holy Mother! It suddenly dawned on her this process was about to become excruciatingly … intimate. Things were going to get real fast. And she was going to feel vulnerable and highly exposed no matter what.
She was grateful now that Kai’d had the forethought to send Alcaeus away. Because as comfortable as she’d grown to be with him in the past seven months of constantly having Alcaeus in her space as her closest friend and protector at the compound, she knew she couldn’t handle him seeing her like this. He would’ve been too warm and affectionate with her, his eyes too sympathetic and loving. And she would have hated it. She’d have broken down under all of Alcaeus’ coddling.
“This is what you want,” Kai repeated, looking her dead in the eyes. “Say it for me, Lupe.”
“This … um … is what I want?”
“Not a question, Lupe. Statement. Try again.”
“This is what I want.”
“Better. Again. Look at me and tell me.”
“This is what I want.”
“Make me believe it, Lupe.”
“This is what I want.”
His nostrils flared. His pupils expanded. She thought she might’ve imagined the reaction, as his facial features remained otherwise unchanged. And when he spoke again, he was all business.
“Good. More. For me. Nice and easy … breathing in and out. Look only at me.”
His hands massaged her lower belly and palpated her pelvic area as she repeated those same words to him, again and again. She knew he was simply checking for and gently manipulating the baby’s positioning, nothing more. But somehow it made it seem like something outrageously personal … sensual … almost sexual … was transpiring between them when she was panting and groaning, “This is what I want,” again and again amid wave after wave of contraction, all the while staring into his eyes.
“Welcome the pain, Lupe. Embrace it. The pain brings you closer to your goal. The more you welcome the pain, the sooner you’ll hold your baby.”
Strangely, it did seem to hurt less, while another part of her brain registered the contractions were growing more intense, the respites between them shorter in length. But saying that she wanted it somehow made her feel a greater sense of control over the foreign biology now assailing her, helping her to believe that she was the master of this ancient birthing dance.
She wasn’t sure how long it went on, whether it was minutes, hours, or days that she stared into Kai’s eyes, repeating those words. Eventually he climbed atop the giant bed to kneel between her spread thighs. And every so often his hand skated down over her mound beneath her birthing gown, his fingers parting her lower lips, entering and reaching high to check the effacement and dilation of her cervix.
She knew he was simply doing his job as her doctor. His touch was gentle and methodical. Clinical. It was in no way inappropriate or outside of his doctorly duties. Yet it aroused her just the same. A lot, for some odd reason she couldn’t reconcile.
And when he guided her into a squatted position and his adept fingers and thumbs commenced what seemed to be an hour-long massage of her perineal tissue, gradually stretching and opening her up as her baby’s head crowned, the way Marissa had explained to her they would need to do to prevent her from tearing, the sensation of her engorged, neglected clitoris burned just hot enough with need to distract her from the burn in her delicate, taut vaginal tissue.
With her arms braced against Kai’s shoulders to steady and support her fatigued leg muscles, she persisted in her chant. All the while, they never broke eye contact. She knew she chewed and licked her lips incessantly, made embarrassingly expressive, pained faces throughout, while his features remained utterly composed—just as unaffected and detached as his voice was when he leaned in so close that their foreheads brushed, and he confided to her in a soft voice, “I understand the pain you want, Lupe. The kind you crave with every fiber and cell of your being. You seek a pain that will make you remember you’re still alive.”
His tone had been light and casual, as if informing her that the forecast called for more rain that afternoon, as opposed to having just called her out as some sort of a closet masochist. She didn’t know what to say, could only repeat her tireless mantra of “This is what I want” as he massaged her privates.
“You will bear down and push when I say so,” he proceeded to instruct. “And you will stop and hold, allowing gravity its part when I tell you so as well. It will feel counterintuitive to you at times, and you won’t want to listen. But you will heed me just the same. Understand?”
She nodded. “This is what I want.”
***
Lupe named her baby girl Jussara, after Lupe’s own birthplace and beloved home. She imagined their existence would be one on the run and in hiding going forward, and the baby Jussara was now her whole world, her only family and sole reason for being—a manifestation of both everything Lupe had lost and all she had left to live for.
Alcaeus and Jussara took to one another instantly, which both relieved and unnerved Lupe. Throughout her pregnancy, Lupe feared that Alcaeus secretly loathed the growing Salvatella fetus in her womb. She had more or less expected him at best to grudgingly accept her baby because of his affection for her. But from the moment he first held Jussara, Alcaeus seemed as smitten with the girl as he was her mother.
So enamored that he voluntarily got up in the middle of the night with Jussara when she awoke crying, so that Lupe might sleep. Sometimes he’d walk the house with her for hours cradled in his arms. Other times they’d stroll the forest under the night stars. In months to come, when Jussara grew so fussy from teething pain that she refused to be soothed, Alcaeus would distract her from the pain, making her giggle hysterically in her crib watching him change back and forth from his wolf form. Baby Jussara found that particular parlor trick uproariously funny. And when all else failed—and whenever Lupe wasn’t around to see it—he’d resort to magic to eas
e her teething pain or to get her to fall back to sleep.
He was known as “Tio Alceu” to baby Jussara, and Lupe knew she was edging ever closer to that inevitable breakdown when Jussara’s first spoken word was calling Alcaeus “Tio” rather than addressing her as “Mãe.”
Because she knew they couldn’t stay forever with the Reinoso pack—feared they’d already stayed longer than they should. And the more she witnessed Jussara bond with and come to adore Alcaeus, the harder it was for Lupe to deny her own growing affection for the big guy.
CHAPTER FOUR
For Lupe’s eighteenth birthday, Alcaeus insisted upon taking her for a night out in São Paulo. Lupe hadn’t left the Reinoso grounds even once since her arrival, and though she initially balked at the idea of leaving Jussara, Alcaeus convinced her Jussara would be perfectly fine for a few hours with Kai while they went out and celebrated. Kai was Jussara’s doctor, after all, and had spent his fair share of time with her.
A few hours turned into five as Lupe and Alcaeus dined and danced. Lupe sampled her first champagne, and the two enjoyed what proved to be their first real, in-depth conversation in quite a while, as life since baby Jussara’s arrival too often resulted in an endless string of half-conversations, interrupted moments, and unfinished sentences.
Alcaeus was a perfect gentleman all night long, holding her close when they danced, but not too close. Bestowing warm, appreciative glances that made her feel beautiful but not uncomfortable. Lupe had never been out to a fancy nightclub before—she’d never even been to São Paulo before—but the way the staff catered to their every whim made her suspect Alcaeus might actually own this one. All in all, Alcaeus was at his most endearing and charming, and Lupe determined she was having the best night of her life.
Perhaps it was the champagne that prompted her to do it, or the sexy new dress she’d donned, or the months of having a hot, hung, Alpha male doting on her and her baby—of watching his hazel eyes darken with desire each time he caught her with her breasts out after feeding Jussara, before he’d quickly look away and give her privacy. But Lupe found herself initiating a reckless kiss on the dance floor that threatened to change everything between them.
It started with the faintest brush of her lips against his neck—the closest spot to his face she was able to reach given her height disadvantage. He stiffened, his large frame halting its sway to the music. She took the opportunity to lean into him, going up on tiptoe in her heels to open her mouth and slide her tongue against the skin of his throat beneath his pressed, white-collared shirt.
He growled. The pulse in his neck quickened beneath her exploring tongue. His hand slid from around her waist to splay across her backside as he barked out a few quick orders in English—that annoying language he and Kai always used whenever they wanted to rudely exchange secrets right in front of her.
The next thing she knew, her ass was across the room atop the edge of the bar, which had been wiped clean seconds earlier with a swipe of Alcaeus’ arm. The soft samba music from the live band had abruptly ceased and the bustling little club had gone silent all around them. She didn’t need to look to know that just like that, he’d emptied the place out, and they were alone. When she did open her lust-dazed eyes, she found him staring down at her with a sultry look that made her soak her new lacy knickers.
“Go on,” he prompted thickly, leaning in closer, his hands braced on the edge of the bar on either side of her hips.
His husky voice was gentle, but filled with an urgent need she didn’t miss. She was now at the perfect height to be able to reach and explore his mouth with her own. His chest was heaving, his pulse racing. She heard the wood of the bar groan and splinter slightly beneath the strain of his grip. She swallowed, just a tiny bit scared. But a lot more turned on.
She reached for him, laying her hands on either side of his smooth-shaven, chiseled face; drawing it slowly closer and closer, until she tasted his warm breath as it fell upon her parted lips.
And then she kissed him.
Really kissed him. Nibbling his lips, drawing out and then devouring his tongue, sucking on the big, thrusting organ invading her mouth like it was that big organ in his pants he was assiduously keeping from her.
She made up her mind then and there what she wanted for her birthday. And she would not be dissuaded. She hiked her skirt a bit; spread her tan legs in invitation. Still, he came no closer. Her small hand found its way to the waistband of his slacks, and she proceeded to try and pull his hips in between her thighs against the bar. He resisted.
“Can’t,” he croaked, sounding injured. “Can’t do this, Lupe. You’ve been drinking. We’re in a bar. It’s your birthday,” he reasoned disjointedly.
“Mmmm … all … good … reasons … to continue …” she affirmed between kisses.
“Sweetheart. I can’t.”
“But I want this,” she insisted. “Need this.”
What she needed was an experience that would vanquish the memory of Nahuel. She tried to slip her hand down the front of his slacks, but he restrained her wrist before she reached her intended target.
“Ahhh, fuuck … stop. Please? You’re too sweet … so perfect. Too good for me.” He shook his head. “Lupe, you can’t imagine what I think about when I look at you. The perfectly filthy things I’d like to do to you. I just … when I look at you like this … fuck, I’m so hard … so fucking hungry … I could lose my head and rut your little body like an animal.”
“Mm … I’ve heard a few stories …”
He reared back abruptly to look at her, his dense, dark brows knitting. “From who? What stories?”
She shrugged. “Stuff …” Her cheeks were suddenly rosier than they’d been when she was trying to force her hand down his pants.
“What stuff?”
She bit her lip. “She-wolves talk.”
He nodded slowly, a pout on his lips, a hard crease still splitting his forehead. “Good reviews?”
She laughed, an unladylike cackle, as she reassured his ego, “The best!” His frown fell away, and he laughed along with her. When they stopped it was suddenly too quiet in the empty club as Alcaeus’ chest moved up and down, his hazel eyes staring hard at her mouth like it was a meal.
“I might enjoy filthy,” she offered.
It was the right thing to say. He groaned, loud and long, and then he fisted her hair and attacked her mouth.
Rough. Wet. Deep.
Her heels found purchase against his muscled ass, dug in and heaved him forward with such unexpected force he lost balance and fell straight into the cradle of her open thighs, against the thin fabric of her underwear—right where she wanted him.
With an inhuman grunt, he rolled his hips, pressing the evidence of his meaty erection into her. “Ahh … fuuck … ah, God … can’t stop …”
His hips circled and rolled again, taking up a smooth rhythm. Gentle, at first, hesitant even, and then harder, bolder, rubbing himself into her throbbing center until she was whimpering and clawing at his shoulders, until her juices had soaked through the crotch of her lace panties to wet the fine fabric of the slacks covering his thickness feverishly ramming up against her.
She was so close. “Oooh … oh … ah … ohh …”
She was right there. And he was grunting so loudly now—just like an animal. And his eyes were shifting before hers—into his animal. And then his canines extended—
“Oh … oh … God … oh, God, Alcaeus!” And she came screaming, “No! NO! DON’T KILL ME!”
Which she realized was probably the last thing Alcaeus—or any man—wanted to hear while getting a woman off, because he roared like a beast, and the dense wood bar beneath her finally cracked and split apart against the pressure of Alcaeus’ grip.
Then the whole thing separated and came crashing down to the floor like an enormous crack of thunder.
The soldiers who had accompanied them into town ran in, and she was tossed into the arms of one of them while Alcaeus stormed off—pre
sumably to calm his beast … and erection.
On the drive back to the Reinoso compound, they both apologized to one another countless times. But Alcaeus refused to let her accept any blame for the situation, and she knew he would probably beat himself up for days and even weeks to come over the whole disastrous incident.
When they arrived back at the house, they found Kai stretched out on the couch in the living room with Jussara fast asleep on his chest. Alcaeus quickly excused himself for a run.
“How was she?” Lupe asked.
Kai frowned and countered with, “How was he?”
“I had a very nice birthday.”
She saw his body go rigid beneath Jussara, his eyes flinty. “That’s not what I asked, Lupe.”
“You’ll wake her,” she scolded.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes widened with alarm as Kai’s glowed a pale blue. Fuck. “Stop that!” she whisper-shouted.
He caught her wrist as she made a grab for Jussara. “He touched you.” A statement.
“Give me my baby!” she shouted, loud enough to wake the whole house.
He released her, allowing her to gather a miraculously still sleeping Jussara in her arms. When she was standing safely across the room with her angel cradled to her, she finally relaxed enough to realize how much she’d overreacted. For the second time in one night.
Kai sat cross-legged on the couch now, his arm draped over the back, calmly studying her in that way that he always did. She felt compelled to defend Alcaeus. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“I’ll decide what’s his fault.”
“I panicked.”
“You’re crying.”
What? There was no way. She shook her head, scowling at him like he’d just thrown every insult in the book at her. “I am not.”
“You are.”
“I don’t cry.”
“You do. You are.”
Smoothly unfolding himself from the sofa, he approached her. So calmly and slowly that it somehow immobilized her until the last moment when she realized his body had taken up every last bit of space in front of her and his head was dipping, lowering to be more level with her own.
