He called out her name, his hips moving at a rapid pace. She raised her eyes to look at him. Cyrus was lost in rapture and to witness it qualified as a moment of beauty. He came in her mouth, saying words of passion over and over, and she swallowed it down, loving every pulse.
She had given him his first blowjob, and she’d bet the farm that he had loved it.
Betsy had no sooner wiped her mouth than she found herself pulled down on top of him.
“That was…”
She grinned. Good, if he couldn’t come up with words then she’d accomplished what she set out to do. “Yes?”
Betsy checked out the clock. Half an hour had passed. Maybe he’d be ready to get some real rest in the bed and not on top of his desk.
“Amazing.”
She would have responded, but he pulled her mouth down on his. God, she loved kissing him. He pulled back to look at her. “You’re such an amazing gift to me.”
Betsy rolled her eyes. Sentimentality didn’t work for her. The television shows that she saw on where it got too gooey made her want to throw something. She had no idea how to handle it. “Sheesh, one blow job and you’re writing poetry. I’m not a gift to anyone.”
“Yes you are.” His eyes were serious. “Do we need to go back to the mirror?”
“Oh.” She smiled at the memory his words invoked. “How about we do when I’m not sore?”
“I don’t need to penetrate you to show you what a gift you are to me.”
“Cyrus…” She swung her leg over him to keep in place. Not that he couldn’t get out if he so wanted. She hoped he didn’t want to. “Let’s go to sleep.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep again.”
His scent said differently, but she didn’t want to point that out lest he get riled up and defeat her purpose. “Would you try with me?”
“Sure.” She’d known he wouldn’t deny her request. Only, this time she wasn’t falling asleep until he did.
They snuggled back into the bed, and she placed her head over his heart so she could hear it beating. Strong and steady.
“What time do you have to get to the office in the morning?”
“I’m usually out by six-thirty.”
Well. That wasn’t going to work. Not for today. Would the world end if he got there at nine?
“Why so early?” She kissed his arm.
“I always have so much to do.”
“Here’s the thing.” Betsy had never really figured out how to manipulate people into doing what she wanted. Or at least any attempts she made hadn’t worked. Maybe it wasn’t fair to call it manipulation when she was really trying to take care of him or to get him to take care of himself.
“Yes?” She could now hear the fatigue in his voice.
“I’m not going to be able to get up that early. I’m so tired. Do you think we could go in a little later? That is, if you want me with you…” She let her voice drift off.
“Oh. You’re with me tomorrow. That’s a given. Okay, we’ll go in later.”
“Great.” She snuggled closer. When she hadn’t been able to sleep as a child, her mother had petted her head until she’d dozed off. Given that she didn’t have any other solutions, she gave into the urge and ran her fingers through his short blond hair.
They lay in the darkness, and she deliberately avoided eye contact with him so that he wouldn’t think about anything but how warm they were together, the quiet, the dark, and the sound of the ceiling fan gently moving the air in the room.
She willed him to believe he could relax with her, to not feel as though he had to be doing something, to let whatever was troubling him leave for the night.
It was everything she could do to keep herself awake, given that all the things she wanted him to feel she’d experienced herself. But she was determined to see that he slept and wasn’t going to give up until she’d done that.
Betsy felt rather than saw when he fell asleep. His breathing changed, and he relaxed. She let herself glance up at him then. He appeared different than he had passed out at the desk. With his eyes closed, and his mouth slightly open, Cyrus came across as younger. They’d not discussed his age, but she’d guess him to be in his mid-thirties. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe werewolves aged differently.
She bit down on her lip. How could she feel so connected to a man and not know how old he was? Betsy exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Somehow, she had to change her thinking. It was okay to feel the way she did about him—they were mates, and she wasn’t human. She was mated to the Alpha of Manhattan. She’d gotten him to fall asleep when he’d claimed it impossible after giving him his very first blowjob.
She’d ask him his age in the morning. And what his company did. For now, she knew that he had a really big heart that no one had taken proper care of in however many years he happened to have been on the planet. That would change now that she was around.
Not daring to move for fear of waking him, she snuggled closer and gave into the lethargy threatening to overtake her. Sleep would work for both of them.
****
The next time she opened her eyes, light streamed in underneath the curtains into the room. Her muscles were sore from lack of movement, and she had to blink several times to clear the fog from her brain. The clock read eight in the morning, which meant she’d been asleep for five hours.
Betsy grinned. Not only had she been asleep, but the Alpha snoring lightly next to her still slept on. It had taken a little TLC to get Cyrus to conk out. Now she wanted to make him food before he woke up, checked the clock, and panicked.
He didn’t stir when she got out of the bed. She’d made it to the bathroom and out when she heard his phone vibrating. Betsy bit down on her lip as she debated for a second whether she should leave it alone. People were very private about their cell phones. Still, she wanted him to sleep, not get awoken by somebody needing something the second he opened his eyes.
She grabbed the phone and walked out of the room. The screen read Lake, and she answered.
“Hello?”
There was a pause on the other end before Lake spoke. “Betsy? Is Cyrus okay?”
“He is.” She cleared her throat. Having not spoken yet, she still sounded hoarse. “He’s actually asleep.”
“Really?” The tone of Lake’s voice raised a fraction in surprise. “I’ve never ever known him to sleep late.”
“Well, today he is, unless there’s an emergency I need to wake him for?” She glanced back at the door toward the room where he slept. Betsy would hate to disturb him, but an emergency was an emergency.
“No.” His sister laughed, and Betsy had no idea why. Something was funny? “I’m getting texts from Alexei’s people wanting to know the time for the meeting today.”
Betsy rolled her eyes. She hadn’t liked the Alpha, and he had certainly not cared about timing the day before when he’d shown up announced and uninvited. “Lunch time. He’ll be in for lunch.”
“Thanks. Oh, hey, Betsy?” Lake stopped her before she could hang up.
“Yes?”
“I’m really sorry if I harmed you in any way by making you turn into a full-fledged werewolf. There’s no excuse. I should be in better control than that.”
“Oh.” Betsy smiled. That was nice of her to say. “Thanks for the apology, but I think it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
“Good. And you’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my brother if he is sleeping in. I mean he has never done that. Not even when we were kids.”
“I don’t think I had anything to do with that. The Alpha wanted to sleep in, so that’s what he did.”
She heard the words come out of her mouth as she said them. There had been no conscious decision to lie to Lake. The other woman was his sister. Surely she’d want him rested and healthy. But it had felt as though the way to protect Cyrus had been to not let anyone know he needed extra sleep. Betsy would never purposely expose anything that might be co
nsidered a weakness.
“Right. Of course.” Lake continued, “Would you be interested in doing something with me and some of the other pack women some time? Like a movie or dancing?”
Betsy gasped. “Oh, I’d love that. So much.” She’d never had friends. It hadn’t been possible. She’s had her parents. They’d gotten less and less attentive as she’d gotten older. But they’d been there.
“Great. Then we’ll plan that. I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Sure.” Betsy hit End on the phone and walked into the kitchen. She had no idea if Cyrus even had any food in the house. The one thing she could do was cook. It was what she had hoped to do once the business with Nathan was over. That would obviously not be happening now. A pang struck her heart. She was never going to school, never going to become a chef. Never see the world.
Tears threatened, and she blinked them away. She had this whole new world to explore; she’d become a werewolf, or, rather, she had discovered she had always been one. Nathan was being dealt with. Her parents would be okay, one way or another. Cyrus, who was hot as hell, and sweet to boot, belonged to her. What business did she have to be crying over culinary school, which probably would never have happened anyway?
She found the eggs in his fridge, along with some bacon and biscuits. Someone kept it stocked, but she’d guess it wasn’t Cyrus. She smiled at the thought. There were trade-offs, and even if she hadn’t been given a choice, she couldn’t let herself dwell on the negatives. Other things were too good to complain about.
Betsy broke the eggs on the side of a bowl and got started in making breakfast and quit thinking about things that wouldn’t do any good anyway.
Chapter Eleven
Cyrus opened his eyes and took a deep breath. His muscles were loose, and his head clear for the first time in longer than he cared to remember. He rubbed at his eyes and sniffed the air. His apartment smelled different. He scented…eggs. Someone was cooking breakfast.
A rush of memory pushed into his head, and he grinned. Betsy was here. He’d fallen asleep next to her after she had, well, given him immense pleasure the likes of which he had never known before. She’d tried, very badly, to trick him into falling asleep. He’d gone along because the woman had wanted to take care of him and it had felt so nice to he had no intention of arguing with her. Besides, he hadn’t really thought he’d fall asleep.
He threw his legs over the bed and glanced at the clock when he stood up. Did that say nine o’clock? Shit. He wasn’t just late; he was seriously late.
Cyrus bounded into the kitchen and took a deep breath. Wow. Her cooking whatever she prepared smelled like heaven. He’d never actually lived in a house with someone who could cook before. His mother had burned water when she tried. They’d all preferred meals she could reheat.
“What are you making?” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She fit perfectly to him, and he inhaled her vanilla scent into his lungs. A man could get used to this.
“Eggs.”
It was the sound of her voice that alerted him. He hadn’t smelled distress over the scents of cooking and the vanilla, but it was there. Betsy was upset. Cyrus took a steadying breath. Yesterday had been a lot. It was ridiculous to think she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Of course, he’d woken up happier than he’d ever been. But that was neither here nor there. This was her first day greeting the dawn as a werewolf. Maybe it didn’t look so pretty in the light of morning. He resisted the urge to chuck something across the room.
“What’s wrong?” Whatever she needed, he’d figure it out. If she wanted space, she could have another apartment in the building. He owned the whole thing. He’d court her or date her or whatever. Surely some member of his pack could tell him how to do that.
“I’m being stupid.” She wiped at her eyes. “I hope you like scrambled eggs. I didn’t want to wake you to ask how you liked them. Oh, and I spoke to Lake. The meeting with Alexei has been moved to lunch. No need to rush in.”
“You did?” She turned off the stovetop, and he turned her around until she faced him. One thing he would not do was stop touching her. That might kill him. She’d adjust, but she’d damn well do it in his arms even if it were three apartments down from his. “That was very kind of you to take care of that. I like my eggs however you want to cook them, and I don’t expect you to cook and clean, by the way. That’s not necessary. You don’t have to.”
“I actually like to cook.”
His cock jumped at the reminder of exactly what those other things she liked to do were, one particular act had knocked him for such a loop he’d completely conked out afterwards. He forced his attention back where it belonged. “You’re crying. This doesn’t seem like joyful cooking to me.”
“Look…it’s not your fault. You didn’t make me a latent werewolf. You didn’t even change me into one—and Lake has apologized, and I’ve forgiven her, so we don’t need to keep rehashing it—I’m sort of letting things go, that’s all.” She sniffed, and it stabbed him in the heart as if she had taken a knife and pushed it inside of him.
“Like what?” He stroked the back of her head.
“Well, I had these ridiculous dreams about what I would do when this was over with Nathan.” She pulled away from him, and he let her go. He wanted her to talk, not to clam up, and if she needed space to do so, then that was fine. For now.
“Why were they ridiculous? Were you planning on doing something so outlandish it could never happen?” Because his pack had resources, he could probably make about anything she wanted an eventuality.
“No.” She laughed, and he felt better. Betsy picked up a bit of egg on a fork and motioned toward his mouth with it. He opened and let her feed him the food. It was warm and melted on his tongue. He savored it for a second before swallowing it down. She’d put heaven in her scrambled eggs.
“Then what?” He wasn’t going to let this go. It wasn’t in his nature.
“It was ridiculous because I was never getting away from Nathan, so they were never going to happen. I think I wanted to hold onto the idea.”
“Which was what?” If she were trying to be deliberately evasive, she would quickly find that, once he started to dig out a problem, he didn’t stop until he’d fully uncovered it. His mate had been crying while she cooked scrambled eggs on their first morning together. This constituted a problem.
Not to mention he was feeling all kinds of rested and energized. No way would he let this go unfinished.
“I wanted to go to culinary school.” She looked down at the pan of eggs before she scooped them out onto a waiting plate.
“Why can’t you still do that? This is New York. We have such schools here. You can certainly go. I went to college. And got a master’s in business actually.”
Betsy raised a blonde eyebrow when she handed him his plate of eggs. He took it and went to sit at the counter. She sipped at a cup of coffee before placing one down in front of him. This whole thing seemed really domestic. If only she were happier, he’d be ready to declare it the best morning of his life.
“How old are you exactly? You took over the pack at twenty, and you look about thirty-five. Where did you find the time to go to college, business school, and then develop a very large company that does whatever it does in the last fifteen years?”
He grinned. Oh, there were things about their life that were going to blow his mate’s mind. He hoped in a good way. She might be really weirded out by the whole thing. His smile fell.
“I’m older than I look. By a considerable number of years. Werewolves have longer life spans. We look younger, longer. Given good nutrition and no one killing us, we tend to come to the end of our lives at about 150 years, give or take some.” He sipped his coffee.
Betsy’s eyes seemed to dance around in their sockets. She processed what he said quietly, but her body was absorbing every shock. He might need to get her a massage. Or give her one. His mood brightened considerably at the idea. She’d taken care of him…
&nbs
p; “Which would make you how old exactly?” Like him, she didn’t let go of a carrot once it had been dangled in front of her.
He cleared his throat. “I will be forty-six on my next birthday, which I guess would make me about twice your age.”
She set down her mug “Holy cow. You don’t look a day over thirty-five.”
“Thanks.” He needed to lighten this up. “But most people would say thirty. Maybe the stress of the last twenty-four hours has aged me all of a sudden. Thirty-five? I should be insulted.”
She threw her napkin at him, and he caught it. There was some humor back in her eyes. “I had no idea I’d mated such an elderly gentleman…”
“Elderly?” He lunged for her and pulled her up against him. “I’ll show you elderly.”
He kissed her, and she melted against him. This was how they should start every morning. After a moment, he withdrew, wishing he could stand there and kiss her forever. If only the outside world didn’t wait for them.
“My company handles privacy issues for business in terms of telecommunication. We identify potential spy issues, breaches in security. Basically, we’re a private company that helps public companies keep their business secrets safer.”
She sighed. “You say the most romantic things. Kiss a girl, talk about breaches in secrecy.”
He rubbed his finger down the slope of her nose, memorizing the features of her face. “You said you didn’t know what my company did. I thought you should. Now, tell me again why you thought you couldn’t go to culinary school?”
“Well, besides the small detail of not having a high school diploma since I was educated at home? I don’t think my parents ever took care of that officially.”
Another check-minus for her family. He ground his teeth together. Were there manuals for dealing with horrendous in-laws? How did human males deal with this? How long did they wait before they threw them off cliffs?
“Other than that? Your educational background can be handled.” Or forged if need be.
“Why should I bother? I’m never going to get to work in a restaurant, am I? I mean, all of your people work at your company.”
Alpha's Strength (Fallen Alpha) Page 12
