by V. Vaughn
“She’s in the kitchen. Should I ask her to bring you up a tray?”
Tristan waggles his eyebrows. “Breakfast in bed? Perhaps you should.”
“Done.” I push off the bed and pad toward the bureau to return Tristan’s knife. “She made blueberry muffins.”
Tristan growls again. “It’s not muffins I’m hungry for.”
I laugh as I move toward the door. On my way down the stairs, I replay my encounter with Luke once again. He was quite an attentive lover, and I can’t seem to get him out of my mind. Tristan’s right. He got the short straw.
Chapter 12
Annie
Tristan hasn’t come down for breakfast yet, and I wonder if he’s still mad at me for the things I said last night. I wander to the window and gaze out at the white carpet of snow. I imagine what it must be like to have the home you’ve always known slowly disappear right under your feet.
My supersensitive hearing detects the creak of the stairs, and I turn to Isabelle entering the kitchen. She says, “Your blueberry muffins smell so good they woke me up.”
I wave my arm toward the counter. “Help yourself.” She stares at me with a frown, and I ask, “What?”
“I heard your date didn’t go so well last night.”
I let out a sigh. “Yeah. It’s been a long time since I’ve hurt someone unintentionally like that. I hope Tristan can find a way to forgive me.”
Isabelle lifts her eyebrows with a smile. “He loves your muffins. Maybe a little room service would help.”
“He’s not mad at me?”
She shakes her head. “No. Tristan doesn’t hold grudges. But he’s a man, and a little sucking up goes a long way.”
I turn to her, and the smirk on her face makes me flush when I get her meaning. “Right.” I pull a plate from the counter, and a muffin is warm in my hand when I grab it. I place three on a plate and grab a knife to cut off a chunk of butter to go with them.
Isabelle is busy with coffee, and she hands me a mug. “Just the way he likes it.”
“Thanks. Wish me luck.”
She grins at me. “You don’t need it. Now go make my brother happy.”
Halfway up the stairs, the aroma of coffee is replaced with the scent of my true mate, and any fear I had is drowned out with desire. By the time I knock on his door, he’s probably smelled what’s on my mind.
I enter his room when he answers me to find him sitting up in his bed. The covers are low on his waist, and my eyes are drawn to the teasing placement of the sheet. I snap them up to his face. A day-old beard makes him sexier than ever, and the odor of his musk practically makes me swoon. I croak out, “I come with a peace offering.”
Tristan pats the bed next to him. “Join me?”
I open my mouth like a gaping fish and try to find words to keep the inevitable from happening. I want in that bed, and he knows it. My footsteps are barely audible as I walk slowly over to him. I remove my slippers and place a knee on the edge. He whips the covers off to let me in. “I won’t bite.” His grin gets wider, and he adds, “Actually, maybe I will.”
Tristan takes the mug I hand him, and I slide over to be next to him. Placing the plate on my lap, I occupy myself with buttering a muffin. When I finish, I offer him a piece. “Here.”
He opens his mouth for me to feed him, so I break off a piece and place it on his tongue. I watch him chew it slowly. When we get to the last bite, he grabs my wrist and sucks on one of my fingers. I pull it out slowly and try not to ooze onto the bed in a quaking heap of need. He says, “I can’t decide what tastes better. You or the butter.”
This time I avoid the trout mouth and don’t try to reply. Tristan’s coffee mug thumps on the side table, and he moves the plate to join it. When he’s done, he stares into my eyes. “You’re forgiven. Now let’s move on, shall we?”
I nod as he lifts my chin with a finger. He leans in and kisses me. This time he’s gentle, and his tongue tests me, waiting for entry. I part my lips and let passion take over. Tristan pulls me close against his chest, and I thread my fingers through his thick hair. The taste of baked goods makes way to his unique flavor, and I drink it in. Our mouths progress into something hungry.
Somehow I find myself on my back, and he’s moved on top of me. The pajamas I have on are in the way, and I break away panting to say, “Too many clothes.”
Tristan growls and grabs my shirt with both hands to rip it open. The tearing of fabric sends a bolt of desire through me, and I growl back as I arch up to his mouth as it descends onto my breast. He suckles me and draws my nipple between his teeth to give it a tweak. I moan in response.
His breath tickles against my moist skin, and he breathes out, “Annie.” I squirm under him as he nips his way down my belly and reaches my pants. He spares them from my shirt’s fate and tugs them over my hips. “The scent of you drives me wild.”
“Uh-huh.” His breath is hot on the junction between my legs, and I’m having trouble with coherent thought. A cry escapes when he swipes his tongue over my clit. “You,” he says.
“What?”
“You taste better.”
My voice is barely audible when I say, “Oh.” He returns to his mission. “Oh!” Cotton is wadded in my palms as I clench the sheets and hang on and climb higher with my exhilaration. Tristan is relentless, and even after I scream, he continues with his hand, bringing me to the brink again within a minute of my previous orgasm.
This time when I’m calling out his name, he rises over me to straddle my chest. I grab his large cock and stroke it as I recover. He says, “I want to be in your mouth.”
I move to let him lay down on his back, and when I begin to crawl down to his groin, Tristan grabs my arms. “Turn around so I can pleasure you at the same time.”
I straddle his face and lean down to swipe my tongue over the tip of his dick. He groans and says, “Suck me hard.”
His grip on my hips is firm as he tastes me again. I moan around his cock as I suck him in and slide him out in a rhythmic motion. Tristan’s hips buck up and move erratically as he gets close, and I take more of him as I approach my own release. He’s using both his hand and his mouth, and I’m struggling to give Tristan my best as I pump my hips too.
I cry out with my climax, and the sound is muffled by the thick length filling my mouth. I suck harder and faster to bring Tristan the same pleasure. Heat explodes in my throat, and I gulp down his salty essence as he screams out my name. I savor every drop of his nectar until he’s completely flaccid.
I climb up to lay my head on his sweat-slicked chest, and his voice rumbles under my ear. “That’s my idea of breakfast.”
I grin and rise up to look down at him. “I hope you don’t think you’re done.”
His eyes widen a bit before he chuckles. He says, “You’re a bit of a vixen, swallowing me down like that. I didn’t expect it.”
“No? I guess I do appear reserved, don’t I?”
Tristan rolls me over so he’s hovering over me. “I approve. What else do you like? Maybe a little dirty talk?”
I grin at him as I reach down to hold his cock. “Try me.”
Tristan growls and nips at my neck as he whispers the naughty things he has planned. And then we do them all.
An hour later, I rub my sleepy eyes and sit up to say, “I need a shower and have to go in to work soon.”
“And I’m supposed to work out with Ian. But I’m not sure I have the strength.” Tristan pulls a lock of my hair and tugs hard enough that I lean down when he wants me. He speaks softly. “I’ll be thinking about you while you’re gone, and I want you to think about me.”
He shoves a finger inside my sore channel and pumps it in and out, slicking the juices of us over my clit. I shudder in response, and he says, “Think of the things I do to you and imagine more. I plan to give you your every fantasy, and you’ll give me mine.”
I freeze and envision another woman joining us. Tristan takes his wet finger and places it on my lips. “Don�
��t be afraid.” He sticks it in my mouth, and I taste us as I suck lightly. “You’ll want to do what I ask.”
His finger leaves my mouth with a pop, and he lowers his mouth to kiss me. I relax because if it feels as good as what we just did, then I will want his fantasies. I lose myself in the magic of true mate attraction.
Chapter 13
Tori
The blaring of my phone alarm breaks through my sleepy fog, and I groan before I tap the screen to stop the noise. “No.”
The sarcastic voice of my roommate, Lucy, calls out. “Rise and shine.”
I burrow deeper into my covers and grasp at the lingering memory of my dream. A super-hot guy with dark hair and blue eyes was the star of my sexual fantasy. The one who’s been in my dreams for almost two years now. Sometimes he fades away for a while, like this past month. I smile because I’m happy to have my dream guy back. It’s the reason I decided to come to the University of Maine at Orono, even though my two triplet sisters picked Bowdoin.
Lucy says, “Tori!” She whips the covers off my body, and the cold air whisks my happy thoughts away. “You may be able to skip calculus, but I can’t. If I fail another class, I’m being cut off.”
“Fine. Make me coffee.” I climb out of the bed and shuffle over to my closet to retrieve my shower things. Lucy’s parents put their foot down about her latest grades, and she’s desperate, knowing her party days are numbered. Apparently she’d be forced to cut trees or something if she doesn’t get her act together. I’ve promised to tutor her through this class, but that girl doesn’t have the head for math. It’s going to be a long semester.
As my flip-flops slap against the tile hallway, my hip itches, and I scratch over the bone where my paw-print tattoo is. I got it before break, and when I get into the bathroom, I inspect it to make sure nothing’s wrong. Huh. It’s not red, but for a second it looks like it is pulsing.
Maybe it’s calling me. I shake my head as I remember the woman who gave me my tattoo. The metal hooks holding a vinyl shower curtain rasp over the bar when I yank it open to flip on the water. She said the guy in my dreams was real and it was some freaky cosmic matchmaking thing. I still wonder what kind of drugs she was on when that theory came to her. As soon as I got inked, I was so out of there.
I step under the hot spray, and the aroma of dirt like from a garden makes me open my eyes to make sure I’m in the dorm bathroom. Whoa. I cup water in my hands and discover it’s normal. How strange. I shrug it off when I realize someone probably watered their half-dead plants in the shower.
When I return to my room, I notice a steaming cup of black coffee on my dresser. I grab it and gulp down a burning mouthful. While my dreams are welcome back in my life, the lack of restful sleep means I need more caffeine. “I’m going to live.”
“What’s with you? It’s not like you went out last night.”
“My dreams are back,” I say. I told Lucy about them after my strange encounter with the tattoo lady. She laughed along with me. But she doesn’t look so amused now. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just kind of weird they came back.” She’s smiling, but it’s not real.
I grin to relieve her worry. “Maybe I’m about to meet the mystery man in calculus. That would make the class so worth it.” I pull the towel off my wet hair as Lucy frowns. I add, “Dude, I’m not serious. That woman was cray.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not that. I’m just dreading Professor Gum.”
“Don’t.” I drag a comb through my hair as I glance in the mirror. Drops of moisture drip on my shirt to spread. “I’ll get you through this, and then you’ll never have to do math again.”
“If you do, I’ll love you forever.”
A button clicks as I turn on my blow-dryer, and hot air blasts at me. As I style my hair, I revisit my dream and burn the man’s face to memory. I’m not sure why I believe it, but I’m positive I’ll see him some day. And when I do, I want to be sure it’s the man of my dreams, because I’ve got some questions. Desire flickers in my belly. Lots of questions.
My first one is, why am I here? As a female engineering major, I had a nice selection of colleges I could have attended, and everyone was shocked when I picked UMO. Sure, their curriculum is a good one, but it’s not the best. And then there was the issue of my parents’ alma mater. Thankfully, my two sisters decided to fulfill that obligation by attending the small exclusive school a few hours south of here.
Silence comforts my ears when I turn off the blow-dryer and fluff my hair. I grab my mascara, and the smooth wand handle is slippery in my fingers as I twist it open. I recall the day I toured campus as a prospective student. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace being here. As soon as we started to drive away, a dull ache filled me, and when I got home I experienced pain similar to what I felt when my dog died. A depression that disappeared the day I arrived last fall. What the heck was that about?
I wiggle into my jeans. Yeah, dream guy. I’m going to need some answers when we meet. Lucy breaks into my thoughts with her words. “Five minutes. We need to go.”
I rush to finish getting ready and hop out the door as I pull on my boot. Lucy is walking briskly ahead of me, and I have to jog to catch up.
Once we get outside, the winter air bites through my thin shirt, and I yank my jacket shut and cross my arms over it to keep it that way. “You’re really nervous about this, aren’t you?”
Lucy glares at me. “You don’t get it. Math is my own personal hell. Calculus might as well be a lost language nobody can decipher.” She huffs. “I hate being stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. Seventy-five percent of the population doesn’t get high-level math either. I think that makes you normal.” Unlike your strange roommate who believes dream guys exist.
The whine of a band saw carries through the cold air, and hammering echoes. A dorm is being renovated, and I glance over at it.
“Really?”
A black Jeep pulls up and stops. “Yes, really.” My words come out automatically because I’m focused on the vehicle as if it’s hypnotized me. My tattoo is most definitely throbbing now, and when the car door opens, I gasp at the large man who climbs out. I stop in my tracks. It’s him.
My roommate asks, “What are you doing?”
“I know that guy.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Lucy’s grip on my arm is so tight, it might leave a mark as she yanks at me.
I glance at her. She’s right. Professor Gum is known for punishing students who are late. I let her lead me toward the lecture hall as I glance over my shoulder. Dream guy, I’ll be back later. Because the tattoo woman was right. You are real.
Chapter 14
Isabelle
I can’t get Luke Robichaux out of my head. I crave his body more than I crave the thrill of a fresh hookup. The very idea that I might be falling for him strikes fear in my heart. The last thing I want is to be influenced by something as ridiculous as love. The only person who will get that sort of power over me will be my true mate, and it’s not Luke Robichaux.
I toss a sweater over my shoulder, and it lands on the floor behind me with a soft thump. A light rap on my door makes me growl out, “Come in.” I know it’s Tristan by the sound of his chuckle.
“Cranky doesn’t suit you.”
“Yeah? How about full-blown bitchy?” I shove the drawer in the bureau shut, and the wooden furniture shudders as it slams. “When we finally have money again, I’m going to have a decent wardrobe.”
“I’m sure my Annie would lend you something.”
“Your Annie?” Of course I knew that, because even the deaf could have heard their mating this morning. My toes curl as the recollection of my own screaming last night floods my brain. I hold my head and close my eyes as if I can squeeze all traces of Luke from memory. I let out a roar.
“Whoa. What’s wrong, Izzy?” Tristan’s large hands land on my shoulders, and I open my eyes to his concerned face.
“I’m going to Kick It wit
h Carly to meet with Ian about a job, and I haven’t got anything suitable to wear.” Kick It is a martial arts studio that caters to werebear while maintaining a front for the human population.
My brother squints at me. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”
My pulse quickens. No way can I tell Tristan I’m struggling with my attraction for Luke. “How do you know when you’ve met your true mate?”
“Are you jealous of me and Annie?”
Maybe, but that’s not my problem. “No. More like curious.” I force out a laugh. “I want to be that happy someday.” I pull out my favorite long-sleeved T-shirt and decide that it’s dressed up enough for a gym.
“It’s like you’d expect.” Tristan picks up the sweater I threw earlier and begins to fold it. “The person invades your every thought, and you don’t mind. You want to be with them even if you just said goodbye.” He sets the garment on the bed and reaches for another. His eyes sparkle. He pauses as if he’s remembering something. “You find yourself wanting to do little things for them to see a smile.” My brother grins. “And the moment after you’ve said goodbye, you begin to count the minutes until you’ll see them again.”
He’s just described what I would imagine is his idea of hell. But when Tristan rakes his hand through his hair without worry of what it’ll do to his perfectly combed locks, I’m gobsmacked. My brother is in love. I was sure that wasn’t possible, even with a true mate attraction. “That must have been some amazing sex you had his morning.” Mating brings the bond to the forefront, and when the bite happens, the couple’s fate is sealed. You didn’t! “Did you bite Annie?”
Tristan sits on my bed and grabs a pair of my jeans. “I’m always amazing.” He zips them up and snaps the waistband shut. “But no, I didn’t bite her.” The denim snaps as he flicks them out in the air to release the wrinkles. “I can’t bite her. That would change everything, and I need to be in control.”