Raphael and the man had exchanged a look; it seemed they had an agreement. Aiyanna stopped by soon after to heal Raphael and Heath, the latter of whom was shot four times. Mary hadn’t seen him flinch. Of course, Raphael made Aiyanna heal Mary’s minor graze before letting her touch him.
Heath took the weakened Aiyanna home, leaving Mary and Raphael alone in the firehouse. Before the door closed behind the two, Raphael had Mary in his arms. He charged up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“I’m in need of a shower,” he said, looking down at her. “Would you like to join me?”
Mary didn’t hesitate. “Yes!” She wanted to see water slide across his body—this time without clothes covering him up.
In his bathroom—she’d never gotten used to how large it was—they stripped off their clothes, throwing them to the tile floor. Mary hadn’t realized how much blood covered them, both their own and from the poor humans.
Like Aiyanna, Mary had weakened herself. One glance in the mirror showed how frail she appeared. She looked thinner than she had earlier, and she couldn’t stop trembling. Worth it.
If she hadn’t acted when she did, she was sure Raphael and Heath would resemble Swiss cheese from all the bullets that would have hit them. Raphael dropped his gun to protect her. He hadn’t considered how painful the result would be for him, and she was certain he wouldn’t care.
She didn’t want him to do that again, not for her or anyone else. When he was shot, it almost undid her. She’d been more scared than during her last night working for Richard. The bullet had gone straight through him, but still it pained her to see him hurt in any way. Nothing should ever wound Raphael. He was too kind, too good, for that sort of treatment.
Mary’s thoughts ground to a stop when Raphael patted the space beside him on the shower’s bench. Completely unclothed, she obeyed, laughing as Raphael lifted her from her place, putting her in his lap. He pressed the button for the steam; Mary sighed happily. She put her head against the hollow of his throat, only for him to lean down and bite her ear.
“Hey!” She stretched up to bite him on the nose. “Banshees can bite too.”
He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound underneath the hiss of steam. Even as close as they were, his face became foggy. Sweat dripped off her, slickened his skin beneath her hands. She put her fingers through his damp hair and pulled his mouth to hers.
She slid atop him while they kissed, tongues battling, hands exploring. He gripped her ass, keeping her from sliding off his lap, groaning into her mouth. She kissed the small scar where he’d been shot, then up to his ear, where she nibbled for a moment. Raphael’s rapt attention was on her breasts; both behaved as if they were in subzero temperatures.
Finally his hand crept lower, teasing the curves of her thighs. He broke their kiss, pulling back as if to ask her permission. She smiled in answer and ran her hand across his hard length, ignoring the whispered warning in the back of her mind. He’s too large for you. He can’t possibly fit.
Mary kissed him with more force, not taking her hands off him. Her encouragement worked; he touched her center, and she thought she would explode. She was so close. She ground against him desperately. “Please, Raphael,” she murmured, her voice still raspy from her screams. He growled in approval against her mouth, finally making her see stars. Her body erupted and put itself back together from a single, well-placed finger.
Never in her life had Mary felt so good. “Thank you.” She gave him a long kiss. She pressed the steam button, turning the function off. Now, she wanted him to see her.
She slid down his sweat-slicked body until she faced his impressive erection. “Mary—ah!” Raphael exclaimed when she took him into her mouth. She licked, sucked and stroked until he found his own release, this time growling her name, his hands gentle in her hair.
Smiling, Mary rose to face him. “I want to be with you,” she said, taking a seat beside him.
She did. She wanted him to really be her boyfriend, someone who meant more. She knew, soul-deep, he was her The One, her soulmate. There would be no more wondering what if—Raphael was it for her. She would never want anyone else. Every time he kissed her, she found her future. When he touched her, she saw stars. “If there’s any way we can be together once you’re freed, I want to do it.”
Raphael turned away, crushing her hope, breaking her heart. “Once I leave, we cannot have a future,” he said, his voice broken.
Finally, he faced her, taking her hands in one of his. He gently palmed her cheek, preventing her from avoiding his gaze. In what had to be a trick of the light, his dark eyes shone from unshed tears. “If there was anything I could do to stay with you,” he promised, his voice unwavering, “I would. I don’t want to be anywhere else but with you, no matter the consequences.”
He was so full of pain, grief etching itself into his features, Mary couldn’t take it; she just kissed him, hoping the tears that freed themselves were mistaken for sweat. He didn’t want to leave her. His words meant everything, even if they came far from fixing the situation. Soon he would be gone from her life, and she would miss him every minute of each day.
They silently showered, each bathing the other. They stole kisses at every opportunity, fleeting touches lingering on her skin, her fingers. Mary didn’t bother to cover herself before climbing into his bed. She smiled tremulously, reaching her hand out for him. He took it and kissed her passionately.
She held on to Raphael as if he would be taken away any second. He held her just as closely, murmuring soothing words in her ear until she fell into sleep.
* * * *
“Where are you taking me?” Mary asked, tugging against his hand.
Raphael only smiled, shaking his head. “It’s a surprise for you.”
“I used to love surprises,” Mary said softly. She caught up to his stride, hitting her shoulder against his. “Are we close?”
“Not much longer,” he said. He caught her as she tripped over a place where the sidewalk cracked, rising above the rest of the cement. Soon they reached the corner studio. Raphael unlocked the door and held it open for Mary.
“It’s yours.” He held the keys out to her. “This building and everything in it.”
Mary looked around, gasping, her eyes wide. The sun haloed around her, making her hair look like fire. She reverently ran her hands over her new brushes and held her paints to the light. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered. “I can paint here?”
“You can do whatever you want here,” Raphael said, “but I’d like for you to paint, if that would make you happy.”
Mary laughed; it was bubbly, ecstatic and beautiful. She held out her paints, the paints Raphael had pained over choosing. “With these and this?” She spun around, grinning madly. “I’d be here all day, every day, with a paintbrush in my hand.”
She barely had time to put down her gifts before Raphael lifted her up, luxuriating in the feel of her soft hair against his palms, memorizing the curve of her waist.
He put her down reluctantly. She looked up at him, lifting her hand to his face. “How can I ever repay you?” she whispered.
“Promise me you’ll be happy, no matter what happens,” Raphael said roughly. Lives changed, and not all changes were good, but he wanted her promise. He wanted her to always choose happiness. No matter what, she would have this place. Sebastian would make sure she never wanted for supplies. Now she could always do what she loved.
“I promise,” she said softly. “It’s going to be hard without you.”
Raphael nodded. “I know,” he told her, pressing her against him. “But you’ll be busy. Sebastian already has a project for you.”
“Oh yeah?” Mary asked.
“Do you know Full Moon beer?”
Mary nodded, and then slapped her palm against her forehead. “You’re kidding!” she exclaimed. “You’re not?” She shook her head as she laughed. “Of course it’s you guys.”
She fumbled with her keys for a moment, plucked at the
Full Moon opener, and pulled up the key to the loft, her expression curious. “What does this key open?”
Raphael showed her to the loft, which had her speechless. Like downstairs, Sebastian had had the place cleaned. There wasn’t a speck of dust, only gleaming counters and new appliances. Colorful pillows had been thrown onto the white denim couch. Mary ran up the spiral staircase, Raphael following close behind. “This place is incredible,” she murmured, palming the soft-looking quilt that covered the bed.
“It’s all yours.”
Spotting a large box of condoms helpfully placed on the dresser, he pocketed one and put the rest in a drawer, turning in time for Mary to grab a fistful of his shirt. Having seen what he’d just palmed, a grin flirted with her mouth even as her bright eyes blazed.
“I would have loved you just for thinking of this,” she said fiercely and released his shirt. “I can’t believe you’ve done all this for me.”
“You love me?” Raphael whispered. He should be horrified; the first time someone expressed genuine love for him, he would lose her soon after. Instead, he was relieved. He craved her love like addicts needed a fix. He hadn’t thought of his crimes in days, his guilt lifted away by Mary’s delicate hands. She’d given him one last chance at absolution, at peace.
He loved her too. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, nothing she couldn’t ask of him. He’d thought she was his, when in reality he had belonged to her since the moment their eyes met in Thump.
Mary nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I love you, Raphael.”
“You never asked why I was exiled here,” he said. “Why?”
Mary frowned impatiently. “How many years ago did this ‘crime’ occur?” she asked, fisting her hands on her hips.
“About five hundred.”
She threw her hands up with a huff. “That’s why,” she exclaimed. “You aren’t the same person who committed that crime, whatever it was. I don’t care what you did because you’re a good man, and that’s an understatement.”
She pushed his chest until he was sitting on the bed. Mary leaned over him with a finger lightly poking his sternum. “You prevented my sister’s kidnapping, saved my life, and then completely changed both of our lives. And I’m betting you’ve been targeting the botos, hoping to save the humans they’re feeding from. You’re a hero, Raphael. I wish there were more men like you, fur and all. The world needs you.”
Raphael couldn’t stop himself. He rose and tackled her onto the bed, ripping through her clothes with a claw. He may have paused, but Mary was fervently trying to take off his shirt and shorts, which he immediately shredded as well. He kissed her with everything he had, all the things he wished he could tell her.
She moaned, sinking her nails into his back. “More,” she pleaded.
He kissed his way down her neck, to her breasts, covering every inch. Then he moved down past her navel and between her thighs, where he feasted. She tasted as sweet as he knew she would.
“Raphael,” she gasped, gently tugging his hair. “Yes.”
He licked and nibbled, and when he pressed two fingers inside her, she came apart, panting his name. “Make love to me,” she said, her eyes shining, her lips reddened from their kisses. Her hair was a white curtain behind her. “I don’t want to waste any more time; I want all of you.”
Raphael nodded. He sheathed himself with the condom from his pocket and leaned down to kiss her. “I love you,” he said in her ear, and she guided him home.
As he moved inside her, Raphael knew everything about him had changed. He’d finally forgiven himself. He would fight for his life, for a life with Mary in it.
His strokes started slowly. At Mary’s urging he quickened his pace, trying not to spill his seed too quickly. It was sweet torture, her mouth on his, her walls surrounding him, her hands everywhere. He told her what she meant to him, in English and Estonian. She murmured his name, clawing at the sheets as she found her second climax.
Raphael couldn’t stop himself from following her. He shuddered from the force of his pleasure, from the intensity of how Mary made him feel. Mary made him whole, and he realized he never had been. She was truly his now, an integral part of him. He gently flipped them so she lay across his chest, holding her as closely as he could with one hand, the other running through her long hair.
Then her warm tears began to spill, running over his shoulders and onto the sheets. Terror seized Raphael; did she wish to undo what they’d just done? Was she disgusted by her mistake?
Mary sobbed, shaking from her grief, yet she gripped him tightly with both hands, pressing her face harder against him. “I don’t understand…” he managed to say.
It took her a long time to gain enough control to speak. Raphael ran his fingers through her hair until there were no tangles, just as he’d done the night he’d found her hurt and bleeding. He gripped what little hope he had tightly, praying her tears didn’t involve regret, that she still loved him.
“This is the last time I’m going to cry about you leaving,” she said shakily, hiccups piercing her words. “I promise, I’ll be better about this from now on.”
Mary moved to wipe the tears from her eyes, but Raphael swatted her hands away, dabbing them himself. She smiled at him gratefully and pushed a few strands of hair away from her face. Raphael had never been so happy to be mistaken.
“With you,” she said, her smile wobbly, “sex is just so beautiful.”
Raphael pulled her to him until her legs wrapped around his waist. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, shaking her head, until he tilted her head back. “I wouldn’t change a single thing,” he said, kissing her. “Not one tear,” he added, pressing a kiss to the corner of her eye.
She loved him; he now felt how much she cared for him, saw it in every tear she shed, felt it in her touch. Everything in his life led to this point, and damn if he hadn’t done something right because it all led to Mary.
They had some time left. He would use every second he had, not only to enjoy her, but also to protect her. Soon he’d explain what would occur this night, the first night of the full moon. He’d have to make sure there were no distractions, and that Mary listened well, or the cost could be her life.
* * * *
For a few blissful hours, Mary lay in bed with Raphael. They talked, laughed, and held each other closely, each dreading the upcoming moment when they would be ripped apart.
After their lovemaking, Mary knew she would never be the same. Not only did she crave Raphael all the more, knowing what he could do with his mouth, remembering how he felt inside her, but she now felt physically altered as well.
Latent power surged through her, fizzing through her bloodstream, causing her to feel invincible. In that moment, she was invincible—she had Raphael’s love filling her up, making her lighter than air. His reaction to their actions and confessions was tangible; he, too, was changed. The weight upon his shoulders had lifted away. She swore she detected a sliver of hope in his eyes—perhaps for them, despite the odds?
Mary wasn’t giving up on them; no one would take Raphael from her. The sheer wrongness of his leaving her, moving elsewhere to make a life for himself turned her stomach. Why punish the very person the weres intended to free? It made no sense.
“It’s time I showed you something.” Raphael pressed a kiss to each of her fingers. The solemn tone of his voice belied the sweet action.
Reluctantly they finally rose, hands entwined, and slowly made their way back to the firehouse. Raphael guided her to a set of steel doors covered in a large warning sign. BEWARE OF WOLVES. Raphael pulled the heavy door back, revealing the firehouse’s garage. The great garage doors were also barred with steel. The place had obviously been hastily repainted many times in different spots, as the colors didn’t quite match one another. Chains about ten feet long were spread out across the floor, each near a mini-fridge.
“This is where I’ll be as soon as the sun goes down tonight,” Raphael said. His back was to her
. He lifted a great chain; one of its black, apparently bitten links was larger than Mary’s fist. “These will keep us, and in case the impossible occurs and they don’t, we won’t be able to leave this room.”
Raphael dropped the chain, which landed on the dirty floor with a heavy thud. He turned to Mary, his normally full lips thinned with worry. He wrapped her in a quick hug, almost as if he couldn’t help himself from touching her, before he pulled back to grasp her shoulders. “You can’t be near this room when the sun goes down, not until it rises fully,” he said seriously. “No matter what happens, tell me you won’t come here. We are dangerous in wolf form; it would take a single strike from one of us to kill you.”
“I won’t come here,” Mary promised, despite her curiosity regarding their transition. She wanted to know what Raphael looked like in wolf form. She imagined he had a gorgeous coat of dark, soft fur and wickedly sharp teeth. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her in his canine form as surely as she knew her sister secretly loved those dance movies she claimed she hated.
Still, she didn’t argue with Raphael. If her absence gave him more peace in his transition, she would give it to him. It must be hard enough completely changing physical forms—she didn’t wish to add to his pain.
“Where do you normally go?” she asked. She wanted to know which chain was his. Did he stay by the door or by the wall? Was he in the center of the room, nearer to the other wolves?
Raphael shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t even want you thinking about us in here,” he said sharply. “I’m not in control of myself,” he said in a gentler tone. “Don’t put yourself in danger. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you and I was powerless to stop it.”
Mary found she couldn’t lift one of the chains. She fingered a spot on the wall with more yellow in it than there should have been, picking a few bits of the paint off. Underneath there was a deep gouge, as if from a claw. Images of furious, restrained wolves filled her mind. Listening to Raphael would probably be wise.
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