"Nikita."
That blush of hers deepened and spread right into her cleavage. On anyone else he would have thought she would be doing that on purpose, but Nikita's responses were untutored and unpracticed. Her heart-rate sped up, and her scent increased. The wetness he sensed between her legs called him to taste, his wolf never closer to the surface than right now. Raoul needed to defuse this situation and fast, before he did something they would both regret in the morning.
"About the attack." He growled the words, and Nikita shuddered. She took a step back and yanked her robe back up over her shoulder.
"What about it? I was a fool I know. I should have taken a taxi home, but it's a nice night out, so I thought I'd walk."
Nikita jumped when he couldn't stop his wolf's very animalistic growl in response, and she threw him a worried glance.
"You did what? Are you insane?"
She took another step away from him and another until her back hit the wall, and it took all his willpower to not crowd her against the wall, and demand she promise never to do that again. Instead he punched one of those useless cushions and threw it across the room. What he really wanted to do was take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, or failing that kiss her until she sagged against him and he could fuck her six ways from this Tuesday. His wolf panted his agreement with those thought processes, and he told the damn animal to shut the fuck up.
"There's no need to talk to me like that." The words were barely above a whisper, but his little squirt frowned at him, and he had to laugh. "And I fail to see what's so funny."
She pouted, and he slumped against the back of his couch.
"Lord, woman, you'll be the death of me. Promise me you won't do that again. Call me if you can’t get hold of a taxi. I don't want you wandering the streets at night. In fact, I don't want you working in that café at all. I told you before I'll lend you the extra money you need to subsidize your student loan. You don't have to work—"
Nikita's growl in response would have done any she-wolf proud, and her eyes flashed fire as she rounded on him.
"And if I told you once, I told you a hundred times, I do not want your money."
"It would be a loan, squirt, that's all."
"No, goddammit. No! Get it into your male chauvinistic head that I do not need your help."
He raised an eyebrow, and she bit her lips and colored again. An endearing blush that turned her cheeks scarlet and made him want to kiss her so badly he'd taken two steps toward her before he'd even noticed.
"Male, I give you, but chauvinistic? Since when is wanting to protect the woman I lo … like, being chauvinistic." He'd caught himself just in time. Fuck, this whole evening was messing with his brain. She didn't seem to have noticed his slip of the tongue. Instead she winced and pulled away from the wall in such an awkward manner that all his protective instincts kicked in at lightning speed.
Argument forgotten he stepped closer and pulled her up against him.
"What hurts, baby?" He winced at the endearment he hadn’t meant to utter, and she inhaled sharply when he cupped her shoulder. "Your scratches?" he asked. "Let me see."
Raoul turned her around, pulled her robe off one creamy shoulder, and whistled through his teeth. Angry and red the claw marks he had noticed earlier were weeping fluid, and she tensed when he gently pressed on the surrounding tissue.
"This looks as though it's in danger of getting infected. Come and sit down. I have some ointment that will help. I'm sorry, squirt. I should have done that earlier."
****
A ball of misery and fear sat in Nikita's belly, and she let herself be led back to the couch. They looked infected he'd said. Did that mean she was infected with whatever that man … thing was that had attacked her? Don’t be so stupid, girl. He was just a man.
Yes, she had been watching too many horror films lately, that was all. She wasn't marked or maimed or would turn into some sort of freak at the next full moon. That was nonsense used to scare small children and bored housewives who got their kick out of reading paranormal smut. Not that there was anything wrong with reading smut. Nikita rather liked her smut if it involved actual people, not freaks sprouting fangs and baying at the moon. Stuff and nonsense, that’s what it was, and that full moon she could see through the open window did not just seem to wink at her.
And Raoul might have the most delicious growl when he got angry and his eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, but that was just her poor vision playing tricks on her. She jumped anew when his incredibly warm hand brushed her hair off her neck.
"Jesus, don't creep like that. You could give a woman a heart attack."
She glared at him, and he grinned, not the least bit apologetic in her view.
"Sorry, squirt, didn't mean to startle you. And I do not creep. I simply walk without stomping about like a herd of elephants."
"You do, too, creep."
She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed. This was an old and frequent argument between them, and one she never won. For a man as tall and well-built as he was he moved with an uncanny grace and a quiet stealth. He sobered now, his fingertips tracing the top of her shoulder, and she couldn't help her wince when he inadvertently touched one of the gouges on her back.
"I'm sorry, squirt. I'll be as gentle as I can, but this will hurt when I put the ointment on. And I need you to slip your robe off your shoulders, so I can see your whole back. Don't worry. I'll keep my eyes closed until you're covered again."
His voice took on that husky quality again, and Nikita clenched her thighs together to relieve the throbbing between her legs. This was insane. He was her friend, and he had already seen her naked when he helped her in and out of the bath, so why did her stupid hormones have to decide to act up now?
"If you keep your eyes closed then how the hell will you put that stuff on? Besides, I'm fully aware that I'm not God's gift to mankind, so I'm sure you'll be able to control yourself."
Her attempt at lightening the mood fell completely flat when her voice came out like a seedy porn star impression of her usual cadence. She rolled her eyes and held her breath when Raoul's fingers dug into her shoulders briefly before he released her and cleared his throat several times.
"We will have to have a conversation about this warped self-image of yours soon, but now is not the time or the place. You're a beautiful woman, Nikita, and anyone saying otherwise will have me to answer to. Now drop the robe and stop stalling, before I have to drag you to the hospital to get these properly checked over."
Nikita tensed at the mention of the hospital, and he chuckled.
"I'm not going to any fucking hospital. You can't make me." She glared at him over her shoulder, and he quirked an eyebrow at her in that irritatingly superior way of his that always turned her insides aflutter. She dropped her gaze to his throat instead and immediately wished she hadn't. This close she could see him swallow, the movement of his Adam's apple strangely erotic, and her fingers itched to trace the veins down to the thatch of dark hair she could just about see in the V of his polo shirt. A shirt that clung to his muscular frame and only served to outline the bulging biceps, as he raised an arm to brush his dark hair out of his eyes. He was in need of a haircut, his hair longer than she had ever seen it, the perfect length to grab hold and…
Nikita bit her lip and shut her eyes for a second at the wayward direction her thoughts were taking.
"You know I hate hospitals. I don't ever want to go back there."
Hospitals meant death and grief, and she had sworn on her mother's death bed that she would never set foot in that place again, if she could help it. Unbidden, the tears fell as they always did when she thought of her mum, her grief still as fresh and raw as it had been two years ago.
Raoul made a rough sound in the back of his throat, and then his hands were cupping her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears.
"I'm sorry, squirt. That was thoughtless of me," he said.
She forced her eyes open, an
d the quiet compassion she saw in his azure gaze made her cry harder.
"No, I'm sorry. It's been two years. You'd think I wouldn't go into fucking meltdown mode every time the hospital is even mentioned. Whoever said time is a great healer is a fucking liar, and I'm such a goddamn watering pot. Dammit, I'm sorry. That's the second time today I got you all wet."
Raoul laughed—a deep belly rumble that trembled through her until she had no choice but to smile back at him. He always managed to do that to her. One of the many reasons why she loved him.
Her heart clenched painfully, as the truth dawned on her. She did love him, and sometime over the last five years, that love had blossomed and deepened, until she couldn't imagine her life without him in it. Nikita wanted more, so much more, but he was her friend and only saw her as the little squirt he always pulled out of one scrap after the other.
"Don't you worry about me, squirt. Now drop that robe and hold still while I see to these."
Nikita did so, and a tense silence fell between them, only interspersed by their combined breathing. She winced a few times, as his nimble fingers smeared the ointment over her wounds, and he murmured his husky apologies. His hot breath skittered across her slick flesh, and Nikita swallowed her groan.
"What's in that stuff?" she finally asked to break the tension and to distract herself from the tingles of awareness his touch created.
"Oh, this and that. It's an old family recipe. It aids the healing process and staves off infection. Works better than any of that new fandangled mumbo jumbo as my grandfather would have said."
She heard the wistful note in his voice and turned slightly to see his expression. The action exposed her breasts, and she made a hasty grab for the robe to pull it up over her front. Again, Raoul's hands on her tightened and then released. He hastily wrenched his eyes up to her face and sat back on his haunches, before straightening up. She hadn't realized that he had been kneeling on the floor behind her, and the thought of this big strong man on his knees for her made her feel quite light-headed.
Raoul wiped his hands on the hand towel and then screwed the lid back on the old-fashioned jam jar that held the family ointment.
"We'll have to reapply that several times more overnight, for maximum effect, so I'm afraid you're stuck here with me for the foreseeable future."
"I don't want to impose on you, if—"
"Don't be an idiot." He cut off her protest with a wave of his large hand. "If you think for one minute that I would let you walk out of here, after what almost happened to you tonight, then you're insane. You're staying right here with me. You can take the bed, and I'll sleep on the couch."
"You can't sleep on the couch." The thought of his six foot five frame sandwiched on this couch was ridiculous. "You're far too big. I'll take the couch. I can't turf you out of your own bed."
"And you can't sleep on the couch. Your back needs tender care. It's not up for discussion. You're on my bed."
He crossed his arms and clenched his jaw, but Nikita was in no mood to back down from this. She could be just as stubborn if she had to be.
"Fine, then you'll sleep in there with me. I'm sure a man with your reputation has a nice big bed, and I won't take up much room at all." Her voice wavered slightly as his face grew murderous, but she plowed on regardless. "So that's sorted then."
"This is far from sorted." Raoul was growling again, and Nikita thanked the universe she was still seated, as she very much doubted her legs would have been able to carry her right now. He bent, putting his hands either side of her on the back of the couch, until she had to lean backwards to escape him.
"What reputation, squirt?"
Chapter Three
Raoul ground his teeth and reined his wolf back with some effort. This close to her, her scent drove his beast wild. Fear and arousal mixed in with the faint smell of roses that was uniquely hers, and meant he could not go past a rose bush without thinking about her. It clung to her skin, and it called him home. Her eyes widened, her breathing grew labored, and her heart beat a frantic thud in his ears.
"Answer me, girl." He dropped his voice further and pinned her with the gaze that had any submissive he'd ever played with blanch. Raoul expected her to bolt, to push against him, but instead, she dropped her gaze further and bowed her head in an unconscious act of submission that had his dick trying to punch a hole through the denim of his jeans.
Her scent increased, and he didn't miss her thigh muscles flex as though to increase the pressure she must be feeling.
Fuck!
"What reputation?" he asked again.
She flinched, and his hands itched to put her over his knee to get the answers he needed, but this was Nikita, his friend, damn it, and the last woman he'd have ever thought would submit to anyone. Yet here, right now, there was no misreading the signals she was giving out, and his dominant side rose to the forefront.
Acting on them was out of the question, however. It had to have been the stress of almost being attacked that made Nikita act so out character. Yes, that was it—a natural reaction to being scared—to seek out the strongest male around to protect her. It was an instinct as old as time, and come morning and with a bit of perspective she would be back to her normal self.
Raoul hooked one finger under her chin to make her look at him, and the vulnerability in her gaze made him want to wrap up and protect her. From the world at large, and especially from his baser instincts.
He smiled at her, and she relaxed slightly.
"Well, you know…"
The most delightful blush stained her cheeks.
"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking, now, would I, squirt?"
She worried her plump bottom lip with her teeth, and Raoul bit back a frustrated groan. He wasn't entirely successful, however, if the shudder that went through her little frame was anything to go by.
"Fine, have it your way. They say you like to tie your women up, that you need to be in charge in the bedroom."
That blush had deepened to a bright scarlet now, and every pore of her body quivered in seeming embarrassment, and God help him, arousal. She also tried her utmost to not look at him, but at a spot far over his left shoulder.
"An interesting choice of words you use. Most folks would call me a perverted bastard."
She flinched and jerked her gaze back to his.
"You're not a pervert, and you're not a bastard. I should know. I met your parents!"
He laughed at her attempt at humor, and she frowned at him.
"I mean it. No one has the right to judge you. They don't know you like I do."
"You think you know me, squirt?" He pulled away from her and stepped back, not trusting himself to not crush her to him, and show her exactly what perverted things his mind was right now conjuring up. He turned his back on her before continuing.
"What if I told you that all those rumors were true?" he asked. "What if I told you that I like nothing more than to have complete control over my sexual partner, and that any misdemeanor will be severely punished. That I enjoy seeing how far I can push my submissive out of her comfort zone. That I like nothing more to see her beg for my cock, and to withhold her orgasms until I see it fit to grant her one."
Fuck. Judging by her galloping heartbeat and choppy breaths, this plan of his was completely backfiring. He turned around slowly, the need to see her, to drink in her reaction overriding all common sense.
Sat on the edge of his couch, Nikita hung to his every word, and that blasted robe had slipped off her shoulder again, exposing milky white flesh that he would just love to mark with his hands, claws, and teeth. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her flesh, and he had no doubt that she would be wet for him. Nikita's eyes had lost their focus again, and he stepped closer so that she could see him. Her gaze snared on his crotch, and she moaned. That feminine sound of need was so erotic he had taken another step towards her before he even realized, and she had to look up to see him.
Raoul almost didn't hear her whispered reply o
ver the rush of blood in his ears. He was surprised he had any left up there and it hadn't all just shot straight to his dick.
"If you weren't my friend I'd think that sounds hot."
****
Shit, shit, shit, and fuck, and bollocks.
Had she really just said that out loud? It seemed so, because Raoul groaned and ran his hand through his hair. The other one was a white knuckled ball clenched at his hip, and she forced herself to release the death grip she still had on the cushion.
"If you weren't my friend, I'd test that theory with you, Nikita." The words came out strained, and they washed over her like an embrace. To know that he seemed as affected as her made this whole situation marginally less embarrassing.
Wordlessly he held out his hand, and she took it. Raoul pulled her up with effortless ease and turned her around to face his bedroom.
"We'll discuss this in the morning. Right now, you need sleep. Go make yourself comfortable. I'll be in soon."
"Promise?" she asked.
A flash of the old Raoul showed in his eyes, as he pulled the sign of the cross.
"Cross my heart and hope to die, squirt." His smile didn't reach his eyes, however, and Nikita could have sworn his intent gaze burned across her ass cheeks as she walked away.
****
Nikita woke to bright sunlight streaming into her room, the delicious smell of coffee, and the low rumble of male voices. She stretched and winced at the pain searing across her back. Not as intense as it had been last night, but it was still there, a sobering reminder of yesterday's attack.
With that thought memories came flooding back. Memories of having her back tended to several times during the course of the night by Raoul. His strong, yet oh so careful fingers, had stroked across her wounds, lifting her slightly so that he could reach all of her, his comforting presence lulling her back to sleep, even though she had been hyperaware of his every move. She hadn't thought she would manage to sleep with him being this close by, and sure enough she hadn't to start with, until Raoul had sworn, tucked her up against him, dropped a kiss in her hair and had ordered her to sleep.
Under the Alpha's Protection Page 2