by C. T. Adams
The answer in her head came in the form of Yolanda’s voice. That was the problem with having an opinionated, smart-aleck best friend—she’d even managed to infect Cara’s own logic center. Because you didn’t expect to wear it all night, stupida!
She looked from the spray of pink poinsettia blossoms in the cylindrical glass vase on the dresser to the door that connected her room to Adam’s. How long had it taken to track down the flowers at this time of year—and when was the last time she’d gotten flowers from a man at all? Another glance at the door didn’t change anything, although she could have sworn she heard a noise a few minutes ago. But nothing had happened since and now her nerves were starting to get to her. Was he mad that she hit him? She supposed he had every right to be—especially if they were really supposed to be corulers of the pack. He hadn’t really said anything that she didn’t already know. But she hated this whole situation… hated the complete lack of control over the lives of so many people, and she’d taken it out on him.
She stood up and slipped on the matching silken knee-length robe and crossed her arms over her chest—which threatened to pop her breasts right out the top of the nearly translucent fabric. Again she flipped back her hair and tugged it up, even as a part of her was wishing she had the nerve to just take it off and knock on the door, stark naked, and ask him for what she wanted. She just couldn’t deny it anymore. She wanted him to toss her on the bed and make her body feel. The tiny bits of magic he’d been throwing at her all evening were a nearly constant torment that quickened her breath every time she moved. Did he feel it, too? Was he waiting for her to make the first move? The way he’d looked at her out on the path… and there was no denying the increasing musk in his scent as their arguments moved from terse, nearly whispered words to yells that probably reached the street above the river.
Just do it. Stand up on your hind legs and do it! Again, Yo’s voice in her mind taunted her, even ending with the same frustrated harsh breath. What’s the worst he’s going to do?
Laugh.
Wasn’t that what she was really afraid of? That a powerful Alpha, years older than her, would laugh at her for throwing herself at him like a crushing teenager?
“But I’m not a teenager. I’m the Alpha Female of a werewolf pack, and I get to be attracted to an Alpha Male.” Her own voice sounded strange to her ears, and she paused, as though she was waiting for someone in the empty room to contradict her.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door, turned open the deadbolt, and opened it to reveal… another door. She stared stupidly at it for a space of a few seconds then let out a sharp bark of laughter. Of course there’d be a second door in a hotel. Not that many guests arrived in groups large enough to need two rooms and who would want someone to be able to just waltz into their room? She heard water running in the background, but she couldn’t tell if it was in Adam’s room or the one overhead.
Here was the real test now. Was his door unlocked? She reached for the knob, feeling nearly apart from herself, but then stopped. Maybe it would be better to knock.
Even the little Yolanda in her head couldn’t argue with that logic and she raised up her hand. The tentative knock still sounded far too loud, but the water turned off instantly, and her stomach fluttered as distinct footsteps created fine tremors in the carpet under her bare feet. Her fingers clenched on the handle of her own door, her every muscle screaming to slam it shut… ignore this for another day.
But then it was too late, because his door opened, and she froze anew, her eyes wide with both panic and sudden, irresistible desire. The running water had apparently been the shower, because he was naked from the waist up, his lower body covered only by a fluffy white towel that reached his knees. The dark hair she’d wanted to run her fingers through all evening was damp and smelled of herbal shampoo and fur and his face was clean shaven again. Would his jaw glide against her chest, or her thighs? Would she like it better than the stubble?
He didn’t move or speak. He just stood there, barely breathing, his hand mirroring hers on the edge of his door.
Droplets of water covered his neck and broad, muscled chest—with only one remaining scar across those rock solid abs to mar the perfection. Steam rose from his skin when the air conditioner suddenly clicked on. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off one drop, larger than all the others, that quivered in the hollow of his throat.
The voice that reached her ears was a harsh whisper that pulled at things low in her body. “Go ahead. I know you want to.” Adrenaline musk filled her nose and suddenly there was nothing but the sound of her own heart and the trembling bit of water on smooth skin that she had to taste or fear going mad.
Cara was suddenly powerless to stop herself and stepped forward, across the threshold, and flicked out her tongue to catch the water as it escaped. He didn’t move, but the tiny growl that escaped him vibrated his skin beneath her frantically moving lips and tongue. God, he tasted so good! She lapped up drop after drop of clean, cool water, like melted snow that smelled of pines and fur. It wasn’t until the last drop was gone that she came partially back to her senses. She moved back her head… only to discover his fingers threaded through her hair, holding her tight against him.
“Don’t stop. Jesus, don’t stop now.” His voice was rough; needy, and she finally looked up to see his eyes burning with dark intensity and his nostrils flared. “Not now.” He lowered those velvety lips to hers and an ache of pleasure ripped through her as he claimed her mouth with a hunger her own body matched, movement for movement. Ten times more intense than the stolen kiss in the dark alley or even in her kitchen—he raked her body with magic, no longer trying to hide what he was… or what he wanted.
His erection pushed at her stomach, and when he wrapped his arms tightly around her and stepped backward, pulling her into his room, the towel dropped away and his pulsing cock brushed against her naked leg. With a movement so quick it drew a gasp from her that exited into his searching mouth, he had her legs wrapped around his waist. Cara suddenly remembered she wasn’t wearing panties, and couldn’t remember if it had been intentional. But the feeling of him rubbing between her legs was nearly enough to make her pass out.
He apparently realized it, too, because he didn’t even try to pretend. He reached down and took hold of himself while at the same time pressing her up against the wall. She didn’t even have time to breathe before he slid himself inside her.
She could feel it happening again… felt the roar of the wolf race through her veins and then suddenly she didn’t care anymore that there was no condom, no protection. She didn’t care about anything but the aching need and the scent and sound of a growling wolf as powerful as the one inside her. She answered his growl as his tongue began to thrust against hers, matching the movements of his hips. Her muscles clenched around his swollen organ, pulling him ever deeper inside. Magic made her skin burn and her nipples ache as he drove into her, again and again—taking her higher than she ever dreamed possible.
His fingers dug into her lower back, then moved to cup her thighs as he began to raise and lower her whole body, sliding her up and down the wall, while he drove into her. It was too much sensation and she tried to push him back, tried to lower her rising panic as a massive orgasm grew inside her belly. She could feel it building with every movement but she couldn’t break free of his desperate mouth against hers—his lips, teeth and tongue pulling as much pleasure from her as the frantic movements of his hips. The scents that filled her nose, musk and cinnamon and her own maddening pheromones, caused a series of spasms that was pure, delicious torture.
Then he started to toy with her, taking her right to the brink before easing back, slowing his thrusts, but never taking his mouth away, or relieving the pressure keeping her against the wall. Her own body betrayed her head as she dug her fingers into his muscles, desperate for him to continue.
The pressure of the impending climax made her legs tighten on his hips, pulling him closer. And then it was
too late, too late to do anything but scream into his mouth as a wave of pleasure claimed her. White lights erupted behind her eyelids as she came and her muscles clenched around him hard enough that his movements became more labored. She was suddenly, abruptly tight and hot enough to burn—every nerve was awakened and she could feel his power, his magic, slice deep within her. It intensified the sensation enough that a second orgasm ripped through her before the first was done.
Energy burst from her in a shock wave that slammed shut the door to her room and threatened to drop them both to the floor. That was too much for him. With a deep moan she felt him swell inside her, scorching already sensitized nerves as his own orgasm took him. It was a half dozen more thrusts before he finally slowed, but his kisses became less desperate and more passionate. By the time he pulled himself free of her, he was butterfly kissing her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids.
It wasn’t until he’d lowered her to the ground that she realized he had been wearing a condom after all—though when he’d found time to put it on was beyond her. She motioned downward at his crotch as she tugged and shifted cloth to fit her chest back inside the teddy. “Urn, thanks for that.” Even though she wasn’t positive she was thankful. It was something she still struggled to fit in the confines of her beliefs.
He smiled and it was both thick with satisfaction and lecherous. “Hopefully I’ll remember next time, too. Now, how about we get you out of that sweat-soaked robe and nightie and into a hot shower? ’Cause it’s going to be a long, long night… my Alpha.”
Chapter 26
SHE’S IN THE shower and she’s nervous. Adam tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the thick sheets and pillowy mattress while breathing in the scent of her body and their shared pleasure. Was he just imagining he could see her in the shower in his mind—looking wet and soapy and utterly delicious? Reaching for the shampoo. Oops. She dropped the bottle. The barely discernable thunk that reached his ears over the running water confirmed it and he nodded once.
I’m mated. He tried it out loud next, just to see what it sounded like, but in a whisper too low to be heard. “I’m mated.”
It didn’t sound too horrible… and it wasn’t like he was the first Sazi male to have it happen. Hell, even Lucas was mated. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, tracing the shadowy shape of pink poinsettia leaves in the light from the twin lamps next to the bed. They made a much more interesting pattern of intertwined images in the predawn darkness than if they’d stayed in his room all night. But after Cara had complained that her bed was more comfortable than his, well… they had to test the theory. And she’d actually been right.
The shower shut off and the sudden silence pressed against his ears. Part of him wanted to get out of bed, go into the bathroom and wrap himself around her—hear her moans as his magic inevitably sought hers out and teased her. But the larger part of him was utterly exhausted… happily so, but still, he could barely move.
A small smile curled his lips as the blow-dryer came to life behind the closed door. If he’d had this same night when he was younger, he’d probably have wanted to crow about his prowess. How many times had he taken her—and in how many ways? The scent that shut off his brain, that maddening smell of her readiness, had pushed them both far beyond human limits and each successive time inside her had increased the struggle to hold on to his humanity—and tightened the mating ties to her.
The door to the bathroom opened, the light from inside chasing away the shadows overhead. He turned his eyes and watched her walk back into the main room. She was wearing that flimsy little robe that revealed all her curves again, and it made her skin look all the more golden in comparison. Her thick, auburn mane of hair flowed around a face he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Adam felt his body start to stir again. Yeah, he was a goner all right. “Hey.”
“Morning.” Her voice sounded almost painfully shy—probably getting the morning after guilts. He couldn’t really blame her, since he wasn’t in much better shape.
He held out his hand. It was probably time to tell her. She was going to find out soon enough anyway. “C’mere for a second.”
She shook her head and turned her back to open the shopping bag on the chair. “We probably need to get dressed and get started.”
His eyes flicked to the alarm clock on the night stand and he picked up his watch to confirm it. “It’s only five. Nothing’s open yet.”
She didn’t stop, her agitated movements matching the scent of rising panic. With one smooth movement he pulled the covers away and stood up. He was across the room with his arms around her shoulders before she could take a single step. Her whole body was shaking and the distress tore at him. “Shhh,” he whispered, and kissed her hair softly before resting his cheek against the back of her head. “What’s wrong?”
She tried to pull away, but only half-heartedly, so he didn’t let her go. Eventually she leaned into him and tightened her own arms around his. “I couldn’t stop.” The words were a harsh, desperate admission that had deeper meaning than they first appeared. The scents of sorrow and fear were nearly equal.
“Did you want to stop at some point?” What was she saying? That some of what happened… had she felt forced!
“I… I don’t know. Some of the things—I’ve never done them—never even considered them before. But I couldn’t stop… even when it… hurt.”
He felt his breath still and a rising horror clench his stomach. “I hurt you?” He stepped back and spun her around, raising her chin so he could see her eyes. But, that wasn’t possible! He couldn’t harm his mate. “Talk to me, Cara. Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, but there were tears in her eyes. “They were things I suggested, things I started and… it felt really, really good at the time. I wanted them or, at least, my wolf did. But this morning—I’ll heal, but… why couldn’t I stop, Adam? And what in the hell are we going to do if it happens again—when there are other alphas down here? Bobby threw away all my tea.”
He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight. It was a good question, especially because of… him. He kissed her hair again and took a deep breath. “I’m mated to you, Cara. I won’t be able to let anyone else touch you. I’ll protect you, or die trying.”
MATED, IS THAT what he just said? Cara pushed against his chest and raised her eyes to his incredulously. He nodded seriously as she felt her jaw drop. “How do you—I mean, how can you know that?”
He sighed, lifted her hand, and led her to the bed where he plopped down on the edge. He patted the mattress next to him and she sat, just before her suddenly rubbery legs gave out. “You remember telling me about the truck hitting you?” She nodded and he let out a small chuckle. “I was walking up from the basement of our pack headquarters when that happened… remember I asked what time it happened? Well, at that instant, a wave of exhaustion hit me, like all the energy had been sucked out of my body. I blacked out and fell down the stairs. I nearly broke my neck.” He paused. “Lucas is the one who suggested being mated. The guys were trying to figure out why I looked like… well, like a truck hit me.”
Her head was swimming and she started to shake her head, tiny little movements that didn’t clear her mind at all. “But that could be anything. Coinciden—”
Adam raised his hand and put his fingers against her lips. The mixture of emotions that rose from him was just too confusing for her nose to sort. “How about that punch in the jaw that sent me flying ten feet? Ever been able to do that before? You’re drawing on my power, my abilities. Strength is my biggest ability. And just now, while you were in the shower, I could see you. See you inside my head. I watched you drop the shampoo bottle, like I was standing next to you. And I knew you were worried in there, before your scent ever could have reached me.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Trust me, if I could delude myself into believing it was anything else, I would. No, I’m mated to you.”
She put her hand on his and pu
lled it away, wrapping her fingers around his while he gave her a sad smile. “But that means you won’t ever be able to—” She couldn’t even finish. Mated was forever for a Sazi male. He would never be interested in another woman, Sazi or human. He’d never be able to have sex with anyone else, ever again. And it was just a few days ago she’d wondered what it would feel like to have a powerful Alpha mated to her. It felt… odd.
“I know.” He chuckled again, and this time it was amused. “I guess you were just too much woman for me.” He gave a great, heaving sigh that was filled with mock resignation. “Que mujer fatal.”
She couldn’t help herself. A giggle escaped her. “What did you say?”
Dry, sandy embarrassment rose from him in a flash and he blushed. “Did I say that wrong? What did I say?”
Another fit of giggles overcame her. “You said, ‘What a femme fatale.’ I’ve just never heard Spanish spoken with a Minnesota accent. Dios Mio! That’s too funny—say it again.” Wetness began to fill her eyes, but not from sadness this time.
He wiggled his eyebrows this time and did a bad Sam Spade impression. “Qué mujer fatal… sweetheart.” The twitching, curling lip started her laughing again and now she was really wiping tears away.
“You have got to say that to Abuela Carlotta—my grandmother. You’d make her whole day!”
He raised his brows with a hint of mild insult. “Why? So she can laugh at me? You’re asking a lot there.”
Cara nodded. “She’ll laugh, but in a good way. She doesn’t speak any English and if you take the time to say anything to her in Spanish, she’ll think you’re terrific—even with that accent. All of my pack can speak English, but a lot of the older, fringe relatives don’t. And Gloria’s Quinceanera will have a lot of fringe relatives. You can’t imagine the size of my familia —my family. There will probably be twenty-five or thirty cousins who’ll be walking under that balloon arch… oh, you’ll just love my Prima Carmen, and Jos’! Oh, he’s—”
