by Sienna Aylen
A distinct grumbling sound brought Emma back to the present. Her stomach was making itself known, loudly. She’d missed dinner the night before. Maybe someone was up already making breakfast. If not, then she would have to find a way to bribe Tessa into making some cinnamon rolls with vanilla icing. Her stomach gurgled in agreement. Looking down, Emma muttered, “All right, all right, I’ll feed you…no need to shout.”
Chapter Seven
#xa0;
A few hours and a hearty breakfast later, Damien admired the sway of Emma’s hips as she strolled down the stairs to the living room for their meeting. Breakfast had been tense. Tessa had made some cinnamon rolls and even their divine taste hadn’t been able to distract him from Emma’s determined silence and detachment. He had tried to speak to her on several different topics but when she’d answered with abrupt, clipped sentences, he’d known she was deliberately avoiding him.
The late-morning sun streamed through the windows, making bright patterns on the floor. As she stepped into the room, Emma avoided Damien’s stare. Her stubbornness only riled him up, making him take stronger measures to gain her attention.
Bleu and Gwen were sitting in the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace, while Hunter and Tessa lounged on opposite ends of the couch. Heading for the couch, Emma almost got past Damien sitting on the loveseat, but he stretched out an arm and yanked her down right next to him. Firmly wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he tucked her against his side. He ignored her subtle struggles to scoot away, pressing his arm tighter into her side with each attempt to remove herself. Keeping her prisoner.
She turned and gave him that adorable confused frown, but he ignored her and started the meeting. If she could ignore him, then he could ignore her, too. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid him and deny what was growing between them.
“So, what you’re saying is you didn’t get anything off the shed at all?” asked Bleu a few minutes later.
“Whoever it was was in bear form and that was all I got from the reading. I can’t even give a description of the bear because I only saw his paw,” answered Emma as she tried to inch away from where Damien was trailing his fingers back and forth across her arm. Every time her frown turned his way, he gave her an innocent expression.
“We weren’t able to get much off the mainframe, but I did check the system to see when the schedule changes were input into the computer. From there, I was able to cross check and get the timestamp for when they logged in. They were on the computer from six-thirty to seven in the morning. They logged in on three separate occasions but it was always at the same time and all on Tuesdays,” Gwen remarked, looking up from a book she’d found in the office library.
When Damien felt Emma’s body soften a tiny bit, he scooted even closer, his thigh brushing up against hers. “I’ve been pulling the early-morning perimeter run on Tuesdays. They’re covering their tracks. Making sure I’m not in the immediate vicinity when they strike. Tuesdays is when Lysa goes to Cranston and also when Hunter takes his regular group of the cubs into the forest for training. This person is smarter than I gave them credit for. They make sure most of us aren’t around to suspect anything.”
Emma straightened her gloves. “They’ve been smart enough not to get caught yet and they’ve already been at it for months. What about you, Tessa? Did Lysa remember anything?”
Tessa waved a hand through the air. “She saw eight different people that morning, including Damien and Hunter. But the Jeep could have been sabotaged the night before. I doubt they would have done it in broad daylight. The only suspicious thing was that her home might have been broken into. She remembers locking one of her windows and when she came back it was open. I haven’t had any visions that would be helpful, either.”
Emma tapped one foot on the floor. “Okay, we have two options then. The first, I can read her window and the Jeep to see if I can get a lead. The second, we wait for their next move. We’ll be here when they make it, anyway, and hopefully we can prevent any serious damage.”
Damien scowled and tugged on Emma’s braid to get her attention. “We wait. Now we know what to expect, we’ll be ready for it. You need to rest, anyway, you read enough yesterday.” He had to admit that he wasn’t ready to watch her read another object. He couldn’t get her grimace of pain out of his head, or the image of blood trailing down her face.
Gwen dropped the book to her lap and looked at Emma. “I wasn’t going to say anything but he’s right, Emma. You need to rest and let your brain have a break. We have time. We can wait for them to make the next move.”
Emma shrugged. “Fine. We wait.”
* * * *
Half an hour later, Damien was watching from the porch as Emma marched across the grass to the garage. When he’d asked her to go with him, she’d almost said no but then had seemed to think the better of it and agreed. She’d then berated him for his behavior during the meeting, going so far as to accuse him of ‘manhandling’ her. Knowing it would rile her up, he’d replied he knew she liked it and pointed to his nose. She’d stomped away muttering something about ‘stupid shifter senses’ under her breath.
As soon as the toddler stepped in front of Emma, she froze. Four years old, Belle still sported some of the baby fat that would thin out as she got older. Sporting cherub cheeks and tousled red hair, she bounced on her toes and motioned for Emma to come closer. Sinking down into a crouch, Emma returned her smile.
“Hi, cutie, what’s your name?”
Inching her hand out from behind her back, Belle leaned closer and gave Emma a peck on the cheek. Hearing her mother call for her, she slipped a purple flower into Emma’s hand before running across the clearing, her dress swinging wildly around her bare legs.
Emma stared after her with wide eyes, twirling the flower between her fingers. Damien frowned at the small, bewildered smile Emma wore, as though she’d never received a gift before. Before he could mull it over, Emma straightened, tucking the flower into the single long braid that hung over her shoulder.
With long strides he snuck up behind her and whispered in her ear, “Adorable, isn’t she? Belle must like you, she’s usually wary of strangers.” When she would’ve jumped away, he caught her arm.
Emma slapped his hand. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Placing one hand over her heart, she rubbed gently. “She’s adorable. I would imagine I looked similar at her age. All wild hair and chubby cheeks.”
Damien wrapped his arm around Emma’s taut shoulders and ushered her into the garage. She would make a phenomenal mother someday. A sense of calm and peace radiated from her. Except when she was fighting with her sisters, then she was anything but calm. But when she was alone, lost in thought, she was a bright beacon of tranquility.
His family was a loud one, everyone vying for attention and enjoying one another’s company. Even his own home was rambunctious, with having Clan members drop by and now having her and her sisters there. It wasn’t very often someone could find a quiet moment among the crowd.
Damien had sought Emma out more than once through the course of the morning, only to find her reading by herself or doing a random chore with a serenity that astounded him. She didn’t seem to need socializing like everyone else did. She was content with the silence.
Seeing her crouched down with Belle, who was pretty much a miniature version of Emma, had tugged at his heartstrings. Whenever he’d thought about his future, he’d never pictured toddlers before, but now he could see having a whole brood with Emma. A bunch of little flame-haired vixens and a few rough boys to even it out. But first he had to convince her to stay with him.
Phase one of his master plan was to get her used to his touch. Whenever he touched her she went stiff, but after a moment seemed to soften right into him. He took it as a good omen. The way she reacted to him, he would wager she hadn’t touched anyone in centuries. At least not with her bare skin. She seemed starved for it. One step at a time.
Opening th
e passenger-side door of the Jeep, he gripped her waist and hoisted her into the seat before she could protest. Reaching across to buckle her seatbelt, he deliberately trailed his hand back over her stomach, brushing with the back of his fingers while her abs flexed in response. Her soft, husky voice stroked his ear.
“You do know I’m capable of buckling my own seat belt, right?”
His face was only a few inches from hers when he whispered, “Yes, but then I wouldn’t get to do this.” Without waiting for her response, Damien closed the scant inch between them. Wrapping his hand gently around her throat, he used his advantage to align their mouths and claim her lips in a scorching kiss.
Emma softened at the first touch of his mouth to hers. She leaned into the kiss, threading her fingers through his hair, tugging at the silky strands. He nipped her lower lip and she parted them on a gasp. He took full advantage, sweeping in and dominating.
Damien didn’t ask for the kiss, he commanded it, taking over and claiming her mouth until they were both breathless. Pulling back reluctantly, he couldn’t resist taking one last nip at her lower lip before tenderly rubbing the side of his face along hers.
Emma’s eyes were clouded over with desire, breath coming out in harsh pants against his cheek. The scents of vanilla and honey surrounded them both, cocooning them inside the Jeep. The luxurious mass of her hair was slightly mussed and her lips were a plump pink, swollen from his kiss. Satisfied, he clicked her door shut before strutting around the Jeep to the driver’s side.
Climbing in, he inhaled deeply. There would be no mistaking her arousal now. Even he could smell the musk of it. Like vanilla and bourbon with a touch of honey.
It was hot. Tempting. It made him want to cancel the whole outing and carry her to his room instead. Taking it slow, remember?
A full minute later, her breaths started evening out. In a gravelly voice he wanted to hear in his bed, she asked, “Did you just scent mark me?”
Damien shrugged, smiled smugly and drove out of the valley.
* * * *
Damien could feel her eyes roving over him. Swearing, he readjusted himself before nailing another shingle down on the roof of the new cabin. Earlier he had stripped his work shirt off, exposing his tanned stomach and back to her gaze. He had kept it off because the temperature had increased until it felt like midsummer instead of spring and because he knew how much she enjoyed the view. Vivid green eyes went wide in appreciation and her tongue peeked out to moisten the curve of her lips.
The teenagers and other men here would be able to smell her arousal, too. That was why he’d marked her, staking his claim. It told the others she was spoken for. That she was his. An invisible sign that they needed to mind their own business and keep their hands to themselves. There was no doubt in his mind that everyone would be stunned he’d marked a woman, and a Council woman, at that, though, he didn’t think they would keep their mouths shut for long. Questions and congratulations would be thrown his way before the afternoon was over, he was sure of it. He just hoped they’d have enough sense to wait to ask him until Emma wasn’t around to hear it.
“My advice, burn every shirt you own. She’s practically drooling down there.” Dimitri yanked his hammer out of his belt and crouched down to help Damien with the next row.
The kid was persistent, he would give him that. Dimitri had the makings of a future Alpha and had been the first one to notice Damien’s mark when they’d arrived. The eighteen-year-old had been on the opposite side of the cabin, working on the back deck, but he had been the first one to approach Damien once Emma had gone off to work, and congratulate him.
“But if I burn every shirt then I’d always have to walk around with my chest on display. I don’t think you’d appreciate it if I did that in front of that cute blonde from Cranston you’ve been hanging out with,” Damien responded sagely. The best way to handle Dimitri was with pure logic. Nothing else worked. The kid was like Bleu but with a smothered emotional response. He didn’t see the practicality in being ruled by emotions.
Dimitri sat back on his haunches and seemed to give Damien’s comment some thought. “Okay, that wouldn’t be the best idea. I still have a few more years before I can compete with that. Perhaps you should only wear a shirt when you’re out and about. When you’re both in the main house, walk around shirtless and use the excuse they’re all dirty.”
Damien chuckled. He couldn’t wait until the kid grew up a bit and found his own mate, then he could offer his own advice right back to him. It wasn’t a bad idea per se but Emma was smarter than the average female. He had to play it smart, like he was now. Working in the hot sun was a plausible explanation for taking his shirt off, but if he kept it off for days at a time, she would notice and call him out on it.
Plausible deniability. He had to make it look as if he wasn’t trying to keep her attention. Part of Dimitri’s advice he could put to use. He could use the laundry gambit once and only once. But he had to time it for maximum effect. Grabbing another nail, Damien got back to work.
* * * *
Emma wiped the sweat off the back of her neck and went back to planting the shrubs that would finish the landscaping. When Damien had asked her to join him, she’d had no idea how big of a job he had been talking about. They were working on constructing a dozen new cabins on the territory. Each with different specs. It was an impressive operation, each home built to the new owner’s preferences. On the drive to the site, she saw some of the other homes. They ranged from cottages with picket fences to rustic log cabins.
This home was only a single story. One of the boys who had just turned eighteen and was chomping at the bit to have a place of his own would live here. Damien had told her they had a whole group of teenagers who’d made the transition to adulthood and as a result needed more cabins to house them. Now they were adults, they chafed at the thought of living with their parents. Their parents were just as anxious for them to leave the nests and have their own homes.
There were crews at each of the sites, rotating shifts during the day in the hope the extra shifts would enable them to finish all the cabins before the end of the month. It was a great way to keep the teenagers out of trouble and give them a sense of responsibility at the same time. Emma looked at the faces of the kids. They were focused and every so often she would see one step back to take in the progress, pride and accomplishment filling their faces.
They all had welcomed her with open arms, although they did make sure to keep a respectable distance. Damien’s scent mark made sure of that. It was a big danger sign for anyone who got too close. She knew he had done it on purpose. He had been marking his territory.
Emma rolled her eyes. As though she wouldn’t notice. One of her first jobs had been working with shifters. Packs, clans, tribes, they all had one thing in common—a penchant for producing dominant, territorial males. From what she had seen over the years, more submissive males weren’t a common breed, except in the more docile species. There they were prominent, but in the predatory packs, dominance was rampant among most males and even some females.
The teenagers kept looking from her to Damien and grinning shit-eating grins, especially the girls. Whispering among themselves when they thought she wasn’t paying attention. Even if she hadn’t known what he’d done, she would have been suspicious.
It was endearing, though, how much they cared about Damien. They were loyal to him and one of the kids had even warned her not to break their Alpha’s heart. She watched as Damien answered their questions and showed them how to do each job, patiently correcting their mistakes and teaching them how to fix them. Never impatient or irritable. He seemed at peace here. With his Clan. His people.
Surveying the front yard, she stopped shoveling when a bright-red truck backed into the drive, carrying more shrubs and trees. After staking her shovel in a pile of dirt, Emma brushed off her gloved hands and moved to help the driver unload the plants. Right as she was about to unlatch the tailgate, a gruff voice barked at her, “
Don’t touch the truck.”
A crooked nose sat atop a scrunched-up face. Midnight hair was cropped in a military cut, though he sported a few gray hairs in the scruffy beard that covered the lower half of his face. Emma would guess he was a few years ahead of Damien in age, though she couldn’t tell if the lines bracketing his eyes were wrinkles or permanent marks from his scowl. She would bet the latter. Only a few inches taller than her, he took rugged to a whole new level between his cut-up jeans and half-buttoned shirt.
Emma took two steps backward and arched one brow. “It’s not like I was going to hurt it, you know.”
“Go back to whatever you’re doing, girly. I’ll unload my truck,” came the growled reply as he unlatched the tailgate and climbed into the bed.
Emma crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the trunk of one of the trees lining the path. “I’m going to plant those shrubs you’re unloading, so I’ll just hang out here until you’re done…unless you’d like my help, of course. It would make the time go by faster, after all.”
A male voice came up behind Emma. “Don’t be bothered by Gene, he’s a grump.” Sticking out his hand, the newcomer shook hers with the strength of a teenager. “I’m Tyler, by the way.” Nodding to a shorter version of himself at his side, he beamed. “This is my brother, Ryan.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
Tyler let out a shout, “Hey, Gene! Pass those bushes our way, we’ll carry them to the house.”
As Gene gave the bushes to the boys, Emma shook her head and rolled her eyes. Ugh, men.
The hours flew by as Emma talked with Ryan and Tyler. Their older brother, Cameron, was the one who would move into the cabin. The boys each boasted about what sections of the cabin they had worked on and flaunted some of the scrapes and bruises they had gained in the process. Typical male preening. Showing off their ‘war wounds’. When they’d finished planting the last shrub that lined the walkway, they all stepped back, dusting off their hands, to admire their work. Not bad. Not bad at all. Even she felt a sense of accomplishment.