“I don’t,” she whispers.
“Mmmmm.” I run my nose from her shoulder to behind her ear, inhaling in one long stroke. “You mean to tell me this sweet scent is all you, Miss Shavone?”
“Uh, huh.” She closes her eyes. She likes my lips on her throat.
“Oh, kitten,” I murmur, inhaling deeply, again and again. “If we could bottle it, we’d be billionaires.”
She smiles. “Aren’t you already?” She holds up her hands to indicate the house.
I pull back to see what’s in her eyes. All I see is humor in crystal clear, sexy gray eyes. Is she a golddigger? Do I give a shit if she is? Nope. I chuckle, again. She can have it — all of it.
“So I am.” I leap to my feet. “That was an awesome meal. Thank you. Since you cooked, I’ll clean up.”
I gather our plates and head to the kitchen. In the great room, I hear her pop the DVD out of the box and open the console doors.
“Wow. That’s an amazing picture,” she says.
“Uh, huh. It’s ultra HD.”
You’re really into all this high tech stuff, aren’t you?”
“Yep.” I rinse and pile the dishes in the top drawer of the dishwasher, pop in a cleaning pod and turn it on.
Coming back to the great room, I pause at the sight of her lounging on the sofa. Fuck. Gorgeous is an understatement.
She smiles at me. “You coming?”
“Not right now.”
She barks out a laugh. “I meant to sit.” She pats the spot beside her. “These cushions are down filled aren’t they?”
“I have no fucking idea.” I walk over to her and bring her hand holding the TV remote to my mouth. I kiss the hand and take the remote at the same time.
She laughs. “You. Man. Must have clicker.”
“You got it, kitten.” I grin. I kick the ottoman closer and plant myself next to her.
On a different remote, I turn off the music and lower the lights. One more click and the fireplace roars to life. She’s impressed. I can tell by her open mouth.
“Good grief. Remotes galore.”
“Yep.” I set that remote aside and press play on the TV remote. “Come closer.” I put an arm along the back of the sofa inviting her in.
She curls her legs under and snuggles in as the piano tinkles through the opening sequence of the movie.
What can you say about a 25 year old girl who died?
Ryan O’Neal’s voice is over a desolate winter scene, him sitting alone in the middle of a bleacher.
Shav sniffles.
“Oh, fuck.” I chuckle, pausing the movie. I reach over to the side table for the box of tissue and plop it in her lap.
She giggles, pulling out a couple of sheets. She kisses my jaw and, laying her head on my chest, turns back to the screen. Kitten. Kitten. So sweet. I hum my approval and stroke her head. I press play to let Ryan O’Neal go on.
That she was beautiful and brilliant? That she loved Mozart and Bach? The Beatles? … And me.
I set aside the remote and wrap both arms around Shavone. She wiggles even closer. I kiss the top of her head and keep my nose in her hair.
Staying up late to pack, the champagne, my wolf warmth — it’s one, some or all of the above, but her eyes start to droop almost immediately. Before I know it, she’s asleep in my arms. I cradle her head and stroke her back, surprised at how much I like cuddling. Who knew it felt this good?
I let her sleep and watch the movie by myself. Not like I can move without disturbing her — not like I want to move.
Oliver’s dad is an asshole. He could be mine — both of them fucking pricks. During the scene where Oliver asks Jennifer to marry him, my phone vibrates.
Fuck.
I shift slowly, trying not to wake Shavone. The caller ID says it was the club. I lay her, stomach down, on the sofa and cover her with a throw. She stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake. In the kitchen, I call back.
“Boss. We’ve got a situation here.” It’s Drake Ingolf, a Norse wolf and one of our playroom monitors.
“What?”
“A newbie dom went a little over the top.”
“How far over the top?”
“We had to call an ambulance.”
“Fuck!” I quickly glance into the great room. Shav is still lying down, but her legs move slightly.
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Shavone sits up just as I go back into the great room. “Hey, sleeping beauty.” I smile, then frown. “I have to go to work.”
“I heard.”
Heard what? I quickly go over my part of the conversation in my head. Did I say anything that would scare her? Don’t think so.
“I’m sorry, Shavone.” I kiss her forehead.
“Love means” — she starts the phrase.
“Never having to say you’re sorry.” I finish the phrase from the movie with a smile. “That’s total bullshit. A psych student knows that, right?”
She nods, grinning. “But it’s what we all want — unconditional love and complete understanding when we make mistakes. It’s irrational yet romantic as hell.”
I guess.
“Polish off the champagne.” I sit to put on the shoes I kicked off earlier.
“Twist my arm.” She pours the last half-cup or so into her glass.
I stand to shrug on my sport coat draped over a chair. “You’ll be alright by yourself?”
“Sure. I’ve been by myself before.”
It sounds so sad. I pause to look at her. “Nash and I put all your boxes in one of the smaller bedrooms in your apartment. Decide what you need and we’ll haul the rest to the garage.”
She nods and sips.
“I’ll arm the exterior security system on my way out,” I say. “So, use the interior door to your apartment.”
She lolls her head over the back of the sofa to look at me upside down. “Yes, sir.” She gives me a playful salute.
Can’t help but chuckle. With a gentle hand on her jaw to hold her head in place, I kiss her, my tongue half way down her throat.
She moans.
“Jesus, kitten, you can make a man lose his mind with that sound. Do you know that?”
I rub her lips with my lips before diving in again, stroking in slow sensual movements. Her tongue touches mine and I almost do lose control to the wolf — sucking and licking her mouth, my hand cups a tit. Gently, I roll the puckered bead between my fingers. She gasps and arches, grips the hair on the back of my neck.
Fuck her now.
My dick is so goddamn hard, filling fast with Lycan blood. I hate that I made a deal with Nash. Hate even more that I gotta go right now. Groaning I leave her mouth to trail light kisses up her face to her forehead.
“Witchy woman.”
chapter nineteen
WITH A GREAT big sigh, Ben reluctantly leaves me and mutters obscenities all the way down the hall. The garage door booms, he slams it so hard. I let out a frustrated breath of my own. It’s too bad Ben was called away. I was ready to drag him to bed by his hair.
I don’t want to watch the last ten minutes of the movie on my own. Watching Jenny wither away and Oliver sitting all alone by the cold skating rink will kill me.
I tip back the last of the now flat bubbly, click the TV off and get up. In the kitchen, I throw away the bottle and quickly hand wash the flutes.
There’s a new moon tonight, perfect for blessing new ventures — and I’ve got several: my new plan to find Val, my new job and my new home here. First order of business, finding the best spot on this property to practice magick. Then, I’ll go change and get my tools from my apartment.
I’ll need a candle.
Grabbing the stick lighter I saw in the cutlery drawer, I move to the dining room and take a long taper from the candelabra on the sideboard. Padding to the French doors, I open them.
It instantly sets off the alarm.
And, boy, is it loud.
Shit.
The pitch of it seems designed to pierc
e eardrums and make them bleed. I pound the off button on the keypad. Nope. Not turning off. I close the doors. Still, the alarm won’t shut off.
“Ahhhh.” I scream in utter frustration.
Just as I slip my phone out of my back pocket to call Ben and ask what to do, a long shadow of a claw slides around the corner from the hall.
Holy shit. A wolf.
My heart stops. My lungs freeze. I drop my phone.
With relief, I recognize the hairy arm as Nash’s. I exhale as he pushes around the corner and I see his face. He’s only partially shifted. He reaches for me and, careful not to scratch, pulls me behind him.
He opens the French doors and with glowing eyes, scans through the dark. No one is there, of course. His claws morph back to hands and his gigantic arms back to their normal size — huge, but human.
I put my hands on his back as he closes the door and taps a code into the pad next to the door. Mercifully the racket stops, although I’m sure my ears will ring for days. I rest my head on his back.
Slowly, Nash turns to look at me.
“You’re okay?” His eyes scan my body at the same time his hands exam my arms and head.
“I do better without alarms splitting my ears and werewolves stalking me.”
He pulls me into a hug. “When I heard the alarm go off” — he kisses the top of my head — “I swear, I lost ten years off my life.”
“It was me. I wanted to find a spot to practice.”
Nash loosens his arms only slightly and looks into my face. “Okay. I’ll help you.” He strokes my cheek before pulling me closer, hugging me, again. Even tighter this time. No hesitation, no doubt, no awkward tensing of his muscles or pushing me away.
Wow. This is new. And, oh it feels so nice. I nuzzle my head under his chin and hug him back. He cradles my head in one of his huge hands.
My phone, that clattered ten feet away when I dropped it, rings.
Reluctantly Nash lets me go. I pick up the phone and look at the caller ID.
“Ben?” I answer.
Hands on hips and pursed lips, Nash watches me.
“The alarm company called. You okay?” Ben says.
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way home.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.” I relay the same story about finding a worship spot. “And Nash is here. He turned it off.”
I narrow my eyes at the man standing in front of me. He knows the code, how?
“Of course he fucking is.” Ben chuckles. I can almost see the grin from his tone of voice.
“Stay where you are, Ben, I got her beautiful ass covered,” Nash calls out.
My jaw drops open and I glare at Nash.
“You need me, too, Shavone? I will come home,” Ben says.
“I’m fine.” I put extra softness in my voice. “Although, I look forward to a full tutorial on the security system tomorrow, so I won’t bother you again.”
“You’re never a bother. And I can’t wait to show you everything.”
I smile at Ben’s innuendo.
“Did he input the stop code?” Ben asks.
“The stop code?” I don’t know what that is.
“Hand the phone to Nash, kitten,” Ben says.
“Okay.” I hold it out for Nash.
He takes it and holds the door for me to go out. “Yeah, I put the stop in.” He growls. “You get things under control there. I’ll do the same here.”
I light the candle as I step outside. Holding the pendant with my other hand, I chant.
“Hear me now, precious fire and water, air and Mother Earth, where shall I a sacred circle birth?”
The coral spiral quickly warms at my neck and a breeze softly pushes me to the west. I take steps in that direction while I call on more power.
“Ancestors and spirits, guardians of the east, the south, the west and the north, your strength lend me, lead me forth.”
A warm zephyr joins the breeze, blowing a path through the bushes and a clop of trees. I follow where it leads me and come upon an existing circle laid out with round, smooth stones.
“Oh my gosh,” I whisper. “Thank you elders, spirits and guardians, for your ascendancy tonight. You have my solemn gratitude for your guiding light. If it cause no ill, do as you will.”
The candle snuffs itself out.
Wow. This is fantastic. I sense that it’s an old sacred circle, used by witches for generations. It’ll be an honor to reawaken the power left by them.
Nash is still on the phone. He winks at me and smiles. More flirting? I narrow my eyes and hurry upstairs. As Ben said, all my things are in one of the guest bedrooms. The pile that looked so huge in my old place, looks minuscule in here. I find my special occasion worship robe and take it to the master bedroom. As I pull the t-shirt off over my head, a flash of light outside catches my attention. I look closer. A service van of some sort idles at Cruz’s gate.
Hurriedly, I turn off the lights in the room to eliminate the glare in the glass. That’s better. I can see the vehicle now. It’s a van. All Seasons Grounds Care.
What?
It’s — I glance at the bedside clock — almost ten. Who the hell does landscaping in the dark? The entry gate swings open and the van moves out of view.
I reach in my pocket for my phone to note the name on the van, but of course Nash has it.
“All Seasons Grounds Care, all seasons, all seasons,” I whisper to myself, opening the side table looking for pad and pen to write it down.
There is neither paper nor writing instrument. Shit.
“All seasons, all seasons.” I move to the dresser and yank open drawer after drawer.
“Talking to yourself in the dark?” Nash flips on the overhead light and freezes, staring wide eyed with an open mouth at me bent over the bottom drawer of the dresser. Well, not at me, specifically, but at my breasts. When I stand, his eyes move to my face.
I’ve seen this expression on him exactly once before — this morning.
Nash blushes. No, blush is an understatement. He turns beet red and for a split second a shadow of a grin plays on his lips just before he turns on his heel and gives me his back.
“Are you having fun flashing your gorgeous tits today, baby?” His tone of voice is playful. What happened to angry Nash? I was beginning to handle him. This flirty guy? He drives me crazy with doubt. Is that real desire on his face or fake?
“First of all, I’m not flashing them. They’re completely covered and” — I get cut off.
“Oh no, not completely,” he murmurs. “I just saw a lot of creamy skin.”
Nash likes my breasts. That much I understand.
“And second of all,” I continue. “When you waltz unannounced into a witch’s bedroom in the evening, you may catch her getting ready for worship. Another minute or two, and I would have been completely topless.”
Nash inhales quietly, but sharply. In the dresser mirror, I see his profile. His jaw clenches and eyelids droop. And, holy hell, he has an erection. A rather large erection.
Wow.
Mesmerized by this new Nash, I move toward him. He senses it and his back goes rigid. His excessive touching issue. Tentatively, I put a hand on his back and reach around him with my other arm, trying not to touch too much.
“What are you doing, Shav?” Nash whispers and strokes my bare arm with his fingertips.
I turn my hand palm up in front of him. “I’d like my phone back please.”
Nash runs his fingers along the inside of my forearm. “Your skin is so soft.” His stroke continues into my palm.
Oh my gosh. The sensation is excruciatingly good. My nipples harden. I clench my thighs together against sudden heat. Am I hyper sensitive because of Ben’s attention tonight?
Geez. My hormones are going wild at every touch these days.
I’m just lonely. It’s been so long since Dillon. Still. Even knowing that, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from mewling at Nash’s caress.
“I bet your ti
ts are even softer.”
Oh. He wants to touch them.
Yes.
“Why?” He asks, stroking back up to the inside of my elbow so lightly that it tickles.
“Why what?” I mumble lost in the fantasy of Nash fondling my breasts.
I sense a smile in his voice. “Why do you need your phone?”
I totally forgot. I needed to make a note of something.
Tugging gently on my hand, Nash forces me to take a step so that my breasts are pressed onto his back.
He hisses in a breath.
Turning his head to look in the mirror, our eyes lock. This is not big brother Nash. This is a new Nash. A Nash I used to fantasize about. And he’s aroused. Aroused by me.
His is a look of lust and wonder. I think he’s as surprised as I am by the sudden electricity between us.
My expression is dumbfounded. I’m not sure what to do with these feelings, this information. Nashton LaFontaine, the alpha, is attracted to me. What changed?
For a long moment, we stand like that – staring, fingers entwined. And, just like that, the heat turns up in his eyes. His beast growls in super low voice. His thumb strokes my palm – oh so lightly, but I feel it there.
I gasp and my mouth drops open. I’m trying so hard not to rub against him. Oh, but I want to. I close my eyes. My body battles to overrule my head.
“Sweet little Shav,” Nash rasps. “All grown up into a sweet little temptation.”
“I’m tempting to you?” I don’t think I’m all that sweet. I frown.
“You’re as smart as you are sexy.” He raises my hand to his mouth, kisses it with an open mouth, his tongue leaving a large wet spot. “You can’t tell?” He runs his nose along the knuckles and then his open mouth.
Oh. I clamp my teeth shut and breathe in.
“Look at me, baby. Look at what you do to me,” he whispers.
I open my eyes. Nash raises an eyebrow. He’s daring me to look at his crotch. It takes every ounce of control I have not to. But I’m sure that I’m flushed. I feel tremendous heat in my cheeks — all over my body.
With a satisfied smile, Nash kisses my hand once more then gently presses the phone into the palm and closes my fingers over the device.
Soft Shatter (Wolven Moon Book 1) Page 14