by T. S. Joyce
“Fuck,” Aaron muttered, clenching his shaking hands. The constant snarl in his chest was unavoidable now.
What was he supposed to do? Alana was crying, and he was teetering on the edge of his control. All he wanted was to hold her, but she’d shut him out, and he had no fucking clue how to make his woman happy.
He was the oldest of the Bloodrunners, in his thirties, and when the mating bond hadn’t happened with any of the girls he’d dated through his twenties, he’d assumed he wasn’t meant to be paired up. It happened to lots of shifters, so he’d just accepted it. Accepted that he would watch his friends find mates and be a good uncle to their kids instead of getting to raise his own. And then Alana had come along, and the pull of the bond had been instant—like slamming into a brick wall at full speed. There had been no slowing down or avoiding it. It was almost as if she’d been there all along, arms open wide, just waiting for him to crash into her.
He’d told her he didn’t want to hurt her, and now look. She was the only one on the front line of a war brewing between shifters and vamps, and she was human! Weston was right about her being fragile. She was tough as hell on the inside, but her skin was thin as paper. She didn’t have swift healing. And if he was honest, watching her neck streaming crimson tonight had done something awful to his insides. He hadn’t realized how different it was for humans until tonight. It was one thing to know it, but another to see how easily they bled over something as simple as a bite. How easily the woman he was falling in love with could be taken from him.
Alana let off a soft, heartbroken sound, and he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t just give her space to fall apart without him. His protective instincts wouldn’t allow it. Aaron shoved the door open and dropped to his knees on the floor, pulled her into his lap. She struggled for a moment and told him to, “leave me alone,” but her words didn’t have any vitriol behind them. As he held onto her tighter and buried his face against her neck, she wrapped her arms around him and clung on like he was her air.
“Weston has dreams. Visions,” he murmured low. “Before he even met you, he saw you with eyes the same color as mine.”
As he rocked her gently, Alana’s breath hitched. “What does that mean?”
“Weston thinks I’ll be your maker.” Aaron’s voice cracked on the last word, but fuck it. She should know every single complicated thing so that she could make an educated decision whether to stay with him or leave his life forever.
“Claiming you would be big, Alana, and not something I want to do without your consent. My mark would Turn you. It’s a huge commitment.”
“It would be like marriage for you, right? Like a ring.”
He sighed against her skin and kissed the uninjured side of her neck. “It would be bigger. For a shifter, a claiming mark is so much bigger. It’s the animal choosing without a shadow of a single doubt that he will be devoted to that person forever. There is no turning back, no breaking up, no divorce, no bowing out of the relationship after that. There would only be my unrelenting devotion.”
Alana was quiet for a long time, and he got it. She had so much to think about. This stuff wasn’t public knowledge for humans. It was the part of shifter culture that was no one else’s business but theirs. Slowly, she wiped her eyes, then straddled his lap and hugged him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Would I feel that, too? If you claimed me, and turned me into a bear shifter, would I feel bound to you?”
He swallowed hard so his voice wouldn’t crack when he answered. “Yes. And it could be amazing. It’s something I want with you, but there is a trade-off.”
When Alana leaned back, Aaron was struck with how damn beautiful she was. Smooth skin shades darker than his, a tone between rich caramel and milk chocolate. Her eyebrows were arched perfectly, her delicate nose slightly rosy from crying. She wore her hair all piled on the back of her head, sexy-messy, and her dark eyes were vulnerable as she searched his face. “Tell me everything.”
And he did. He laid it all out there, all the scary parts of his life, all the complications. He told her about Harper going through The Unrest until they formed a crew. He told her about his excitement over fighting vamps, and how it had really been awful. He told her about the fight with the Asheville Coven in the parking lot of Drat’s and the death of the queen.
“Is that where you got this?” she asked in a whisper as she brushed her fingers over the scars on the side of his neck.
He dipped his chin once. “Aric gave me that.”
She touched her own bite mark. “We’ll match.”
“No,” he said firmly. “There is a woman in the Ashe Crew who makes cream for fixing scars. I’ll have some shipped here, and you won’t have to remember what Aric did to you every time you look in the mirror.”
“Why didn’t you use it on your neck?”
“Because scars are a part of every shifter’s life. We fight battles the humans are never aware of. Scars are a reminder of what happened but also a warning of what’s to come. Scars mean we survived. It doesn’t have to be like that for you, though. It can be easier.” He lowered his voice and cupped her cheeks. “Alana, I’ll make it easier, I swear.”
Her lip trembled, but she kissed his palm quickly. He loved that she was tender, affected, and real. He’d had trouble connecting with his emotions over the years, trouble understanding Bear, but here was Alana, so authentic, soft, and honest, and for some reason, that little lip quiver exposed strength in her vulnerability. It was a measure of trust that she allowed him to witness the dampness on her cheeks. Allowed him to brush them away with the pads of his thumbs.
The choice would be hers, to stay and endure a dangerous life or to move away and find a normal partner who would cloak her life in the safety of normalcy. It would rip him up inside if she chose the latter, but an overwhelming desire for her to be happy had overtaken him. At least he’d laid it on the line. At least he’d told her everything she needed to know about his life to choose her path. He wasn’t hiding anything anymore.
All he could do now was spend every minute possible with her until she moved away from Bryson City, or decided to stay here with him.
Chapter Thirteen
Aaron was scared.
Alana didn’t know how she knew it, but some instinct deep inside of her kept circling back to that thought as the seconds ticked by in the dark bedroom. He’d avoided the bed, told her goodnight, and settled on the couch outside the door. And there he lay, just on the other side of the wall. So close and much too far all at once.
He was scared of Turning her. And if Aaron was unsure if he could control his grizzly during intimacy, she should be, too. At least, that’s what she’d been telling herself for the past half an hour. So why did each minute that ticked by get harder and harder to resist tiptoeing into the living room and crawling onto the couch beside him?
Alana rolled over on her side and hugged a pillow to her chest. Softly, through the dark, she asked, “Would it hurt?”
After a moment, Aaron’s deep voice drifted through the open doorway. “Would what hurt?”
“You know. The bite.”
He huffed a sigh, and she could make out the rustle of fabric. She could imagine him sitting up now, hands scrubbing his face. “I haven’t ever thought about it before. I was born like this. I imagine it would. Shifter healing makes wounds seal up fast, but I still feel pain. Maybe worse pain because the healing happens so quickly and is so intense. Yeah, I think it would hurt.”
“Bad?”
“Yeah.”
“I hate pain.” She rubbed her fingers lightly over the bandage on her neck. She’d taken a couple of pain killers at Aaron’s instruction, but it still ached. Or maybe it was the flashes of Aric’s teeth coming at her that made it sting worse. “It seems like shifters have to get used to being hurt.”
The floorboards creaked under Aaron’s bare feet as he sauntered into the bedroom. His hair was mussed, and the blue moonlight that streamed through the window contoured his
pecs, abs, and strips of muscles over his hips in delicious shadows. He hesitated at the edge of the bed, but Alana pushed back the covers and tossed the pillow she was hugging to the other side of the bed to make room.
He looked back at the doorway, as if he was debating an escape, but Alana yanked his hand down before he could scurry away. Aaron laughed and crawled under the covers with her. How was he so warm?
Snuggling against his chest, she admitted something she had never told anyone in her life. “Lissa was always the strong one out of us.”
“How so?”
“She was tough. Like when she would get sick, she didn’t want anyone fussing over her. She would hole up in her room, and if anyone mentioned her having a cold or stomach flu, she would deny it and force everyone to go about their business like nothing was wrong. She hated being coddled. And then there was me.” Alana laid a kiss on his chest, then murmured, “If I broke a nail, I was done for. Wailing, crying, telling my dad I thought I was dyin’. At Christmas last year, he told me I used to scare him to death because I always made him think my injuries were serious. He used to call me his ’lil drama momma.”
Aaron’s chuckle was deep and vibrated against her cheek.
The smile dipped from her face before she admitted the rest. “I always thought Lissa should’ve been the one with the cleft lip and palate. Not because I would wish it on anyone, but because she would’ve gone through the surgeries, no complaints, and when they were through, she would’ve just gotten over it. Moved on. She would’ve owned it a lot sooner than I did. I always wished I was strong like her.”
“Mmm,” Aaron rumbled. “You don’t know how she would’ve reacted to what you went through. Not for sure. Maybe your sister got quiet about her hurts because she watched what was happening to you. Maybe she hid her pain on purpose so it wouldn’t add to what your family was already going through.”
“I was always a daddy’s girl, too, and I got to keep him, you know? When we lost my mom, Lissa got quiet. She was closer to her than she was to Dad.”
“Were you and your sister close?”
“Oh, hell yeah. Sometimes I miss how we used to be. We still talk on the phone and see each other on Fridays when I watch my nieces, but life got in the way, you know? She had a husband and then kids, but I just stayed still. Just…waiting around for whatever attention she had left to give. I guess that’s part of the appeal of moving far away, so I don’t have to feel like I’m just sitting around, wasting my life for a connection that can’t ever be the same as when we were kids.”
“Did you tell her about me?”
“Yeeees,” she drawled out. “I called and told her you were tall and nice and a firefighter, but I left out the tattooed, motorcycle-riding, demon-eyed shifter part. Baby steps with her.”
Aaron snorted and hugged her closer, and that was when she felt it. He was rocking one massive boner behind the fabric of his briefs.
“Good God, Aaron, is that a tree trunk, or are you happy to see me?”
“Woman, flattery gets you everywhere with me.” He rested his hand behind his head and grinned. “Keep talking about my big dick, and it’ll keep getting bigger.”
“I meant bonsai tree trunk.”
Aaron tickled her ribs, and she went to giggling and kicking at the covers. “Stop, stop!” she punched out through her laughter.
Aaron rolled smoothly on top of her, straddled her hips, and pinned her thrashing arms above her head. His eyes were too bright now, too animalistic, and his chest heaved with a sudden breath as the smile faded from his face.
He dragged his hungry gaze down her body, all the way to where their hips met, then back up to her face. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, releasing her arms and leaning up straight.
“You won’t, Aaron. I trust you.”
He shook his head, back and forth, back and forth, his eyes locked on hers. She could see a million thoughts churning there.
“Sometimes mates stay human, right?”
A slight nod.
“I’m not saying I’m out on an eventual claiming mark, but…”
“It’s a lot now, I know. Humans work differently. Feel differently. It happens slower for you.”
Gathering her courage, Alana sat up just enough to pull off her tank top. Her bare breasts prickled as the cold air drifted over her skin. Slowly, she settled back onto the mattress again.
Aaron’s breath came shallow as he stared. And after the span of a few heartbeats, he leaned forward, locked his arms on either side of her head, and searched her eyes. There was still an air of hesitation, so she reached up and cupped his face, demanded his attention.
“Don’t bite me,” she whispered. His eyes blazed brighter, so she smiled and pulled him closer. “Bear, don’t claim me until I’m ready. No hurting me.”
A soft rumbling growl emanated from Aaron’s chest, and then he was on her, his lips crashing against hers like waves on a cliff. Fire ignited along her nerve endings, starting from where their hips met and exploding out to her fingertips. Aaron winced and drew back from her touch as if he’d felt it, too, and after an initial look of shock that likely mirrored her own, the corners of his lips curved up in a wicked smile. He intertwined his fingers with hers and slid her hands above her head as he eased down and kissed her lips again. He rocked seductively over her as he sucked her bottom lip. She was no better than putty in his capable hands. There was no room for nerves or insecurity here, not with him. He was laying claim to every thought, every breath, every reaction of her body. He eased his lips off her with a hard suck, and she gasped as her body bowed against the mattress. She needed to be closer to him. No man had ever affected her like this, so completely. Every cell in her body belonged to the man who had stolen her heart.
Aaron dipped his lips to her neck and drew his hand from hers, dragged his touch slowly up her arm to the bandage on her neck. He pulled it off. She didn’t even feel the pull of the tape on her neck, but the second Aric’s bite was exposed to air, a tingling sensation skittered across her sensitive skin. She hated what he’d done.
“I won’t bite you, Alana,” Aaron said in a deep, gravelly voice. “Not until you beg me to.” He worked sucking kisses along her throat until he reached the torn skin. “But I’m going to show you that not all pain is bad.”
Holy. Shit. Could his words make her come? Was that a thing? He was building pressure in her middle that had her panting in desperation. His warm breath on her neck teased her with how close he was to making his claim.
The cuts burned as he kissed her skin, his tongue soft as he brushed it against her. Alana was shaking now, trying not to plead with him, trying to keep her pride, but he was demolishing her defenses one touch at a time. He released her other hand, cupped the side of her neck, and when he pressed his thumb against her tripping pulse, the growl in his chest rattled harder. Sexy, beastly man.
Wanting more, she drew her knees up on either side of him. And as he worked her neck, he lowered his hips and rolled his erection against her, hitting her clit through her thin pajama pants just right.
She moaned, and he reacted, sucked too hard. She hissed and dug her nails into his shoulder as punishment. But Aaron had been right. The pain in her neck added to the pleasure he was conjuring between her legs. He ran his kisses down the length of her collar bone and settled more of his weight onto her, and now when he rocked against her this time, waves of ecstasy flooded the apex between her thighs. Squeezing her eyes closed, Alana tried to convince her body to hold on. When that didn’t work, she rushed out, “Aaron!”
He smiled against her skin, then slid down her body, yanking her pants off as he went. He was lightning fast, and she froze, completely shocked that he’d suddenly disappeared from her torso and was now tossing the remainder of her clothes onto the floor. She wanted to squeak and cover up her lady bits, because holy hell balls, his face was right there, but he swatted her hand away with a growl. He looked about as hungry as a man could get, and his eyes, w
hich should’ve terrified her, couldn’t pass for human. Shifters used to scare her, but now, a trill of excitement and anticipation zinged up her spine. Aaron hooked his arms around her legs and yanked her to the edge of the bed. In a moment of mortification, she closed her eyes, but then his lips touched her. Then his tongue touched her, so lightly, just a lick, and fuck every uncertainty, she suddenly wanted him to finish eating her more than she’d ever wanted anything.
With a moan, she slid her knees wider to give him more room, and reaching between her legs, ran her fingernails through his hair. When Aaron sucked gently on her clit, she arched her back, gasping at how good it felt. She was so close already, but he’d known that. This was the game, right? Get her close, then demolish her with his clever mouth and make an intimate memory she would never forget. One that would annihilate every experience she’d ever had in the bedroom before Aaron had plowed into her life.
“Oh, Aaron,” she cried as his tongue plunged deeply inside her.
He wasn’t claiming her skin, wasn’t claiming with a bite. No, tonight he was claiming her soul.
The pleasure became blinding until a deep, throbbing orgasm blasted through her body. She’d never felt anything so consuming as the release at the urging of Aaron’s mouth. In a flash, Aaron pulled her toward him until her ass was off the bed. There was a moment of imbalance, where she thought she might topple forward, but Aaron was there, holding her steady. He brushed the tip of his cock against her throbbing entrance. She didn’t know where his briefs had gone but she gave zero fucks about that right now. All she wanted was to finish every aftershock she could with him buried deep inside of her.