Beast (Norseton Wolves #1)

by Holley Trent

  As I am.

  He tamped back the objection that had floated to the front of his thoughts. No more. He didn’t want to push his little wolf away to some other man, whole or not. She was his. “Okay.”

  She crinkled her brow. “Okay?”

  “Mm-hmm. You win. If you’re not going to walk away from me—”

  “I’m not,” she said quickly. “I’m stayin’.”

  “Then I think I’ll have that taste of you now if you’re gonna insist on being such a temptation.” He flipped her onto her back—no difficult feat—and spread her legs before she could even try to sit up. “A man can only resist his mate for so long.”

  Never before had he felt so shy about grinning. About flirting a little. It wasn’t too late to offer her a little courtship. “You offered me a taste. Have you forgotten that already, little wolf?”

  She blinked rapidly several times and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Obviously, his reversal had shocked her. “No. I didn’t forget. Does this mean—”

  “Shh. We’ve done enough talking for now, I think. We can talk later and about anything you want. You can have anything you want.”

  “Including you?”

  “Especially me.” He edged up her shirt and bared her sweet pussy for his inspection. He parted her gently between his fingers and leaned in for just one lick. “Mmm, I knew you’d be sweet.”

  Her gulp was audible. Her quavering fingers dug nervously into the rumpled covers.

  “I could just eat you up, little wolf.” He pressed his tongue flat against her clit and gave it a wiggle.

  She clamped her thighs against his shoulders. “I won’t object.”

  “I didn’t think you would. Anything like this happen in your dream?”

  She shook her head hard and balled those sheets some more.

  Next, he swirled the tip of his tongue around her aroused nub and pulled it between his lips, drawing a soft moan from her that urged him on. He lashed his tongue down her slit and flicked the tip in and out of her tight channel’s entrance, inciting more writhing and the bowing of her back. “I’m gonna put in a finger and see how wet you are for me. Does that sound productive?”

  “Do it,” she whispered breathlessly. “Stop teasin’.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little teasing.” He tucked a fingertip into her and pressed his thumb to her clit.

  “Oh!”

  Slowly, his pushed his finger in to the second knuckle, barely suppressing his compulsion to breach her fully and prepare her for his cock. So damned tight, and he had to keep thinking twice before acting, because she was the only woman he’d ever been intimate with who hadn’t already been broken in, so to speak. Wolves were sexual beings. There was no shame in that, although most tried not to get too attached to their partners if they didn’t think they’d make good, permanent mates.

  “I’m the only one who has touched you here.” He stated it as a fact instead of asking a question. “Only one who has seen you up close.”

  “Yes.” She bore down onto his finger, greedily taking in more of him. He withdrew it and slipped it back in, this time working it in a circle to relax her muscles. “Does that make you happy?”

  “That no one else has been close enough to taste you? Fuck yeah. I don’t relish the idea of some other asshole touching you. But you have a knack for doing all the right things at the right time, don’t you?” Even if doing so drove everyone else nuts.

  He pulled her clit into his mouth again and fluttered the tip of his tongue beneath it while cautiously adding a second digit to his fingering.

  She tensed around him and gasped, her knees digging into his shoulders.

  “Relax, little wolf. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Try as she might, her attempt at relaxing just led to more spasms. He withdrew his fingers and returned his tongue to her slit, wetting her and massaging until he could work his fingers back in, along with a third.

  “So full,” she whispered.

  “Can you take a little more?”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, but nodded after a moment.

  “You sure, little wolf? I won’t be able to put you back together if you regret it later.” He rubbed the tip of his middle finger against the inner wall beneath her belly button and made her legs shake. So wet now. So ready for him. He hoped, for a change, that she wouldn’t be the one talking herself out of something while he was being the one talking himself into it.

  She nodded again. “Please.”

  The magic word.

  He eased up onto one palm and grabbed a pillow, propping up her hips. He did so with purposeful eye contact, giving her one last chance to back out.

  “I can do it,” she said.

  “That’s not the issue. The real question is do you want to?”

  “Yes. Please. But can you kiss me first? It’s important.”

  Small concession to make. He leaned in and skimmed his lips across hers gently. Not enough of a start for her, apparently, because she hooked her hand behind his neck and pulled him down.

  She sucked on his lip and he put his tongue into her mouth, wondering what she thought of her own taste. He’d have to ask her later.

  While she was distracted by the movements of his tongue, he pressed his cock against her entrance and worked the head past the tight barrier.

  She clamped down on his lip and moaned through her clenched teeth.

  He was wound so tight and desperate for relief, but he held still and waited for her body to give up its cues.

  Her teeth unclamped and she whispered, “Sorry.”

  “You okay, little wolf?”

  “Stings a bit, but I want to feel—feel the rest.”

  He gave her a little more, and she clenched around him hard enough to push him out.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t say sorry. You’re giving me a gift.” He worked himself back in, this time not stopping until he was in as far as he could go.

  “I guess you’re mine now,” she whispered.

  He chuckled and found her lips again. It was a naive way of thinking, but she was so sweet for wanting him.

  “No decent woman will touch you,” she said. “You’ve got my scent in you now.”

  “What?”

  “Y’all can’t smell it. Testosterone blocks it, I guess. That’s why we don’t fight over you. We can tell that you already belong to someone. We won’t pursue you unless we’re sure it’s not a permanent match.”

  “I always thought it was the other way around.”

  “Works both ways, I hear.”

  “Sneaky, sneaky, little wolf.” He slipped an arm under her hips and rolled onto his back. “Dastardly.”

  “Just desperate to make you listen.”

  He couldn’t even be mad about it. It hardly seemed like treachery, coming from his mate. What she didn’t have in size and fierceness, she made up for in cunning, and that was certainly something for him to brag about. In a good mate match, a weak wolf became more confident—more aggressive in defending her home and family—and for whatever reason, the goddess had seen fit to have Christina bloom under Anton’s watch. Perhaps he should stop disrespecting them both.

  He kept her chest pressed to his and started slow, cautious thrusts into her welcoming pussy. “Yeah, I’m listening now.”

  Her hot breath came out in pants and gasps against his chest, and her fingers dug into his flesh for purchase. With each stroke into her, her body tensed and relaxed, as if she were afraid he’d cause her pain, but received proof of the opposite with each thrust. He’d never hurt her on purpose, or let anyone else hurt her, either. Not anymore.

  “If you want to hang onto me, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. The words were not only instructions for her to tighten her arms around him so he could give her the release she needed, but also were her one last chance to opt out of this thing—to let go of him. If she left, she’d break his heart, but that was a better deal than him inadvertently b
reaking her at some point. There wasn’t a whole lot of gentleness in his life. They’d both have to adapt.

  She pulled him down, so her chest was atop hers, and clasped her hands around his back. “I’m holding on.”

  “All right, little wolf.” He found her lips again and teased her mouth while increasing the speed of his thrusts. He ate every little moan and pant she offered up. She wasn’t kissing, so much as letting herself be kissed. Her heavy-lidded eyes and her toes flexed against the backs of his thighs told him that she was enjoying what he was doing, even if she wasn’t responding. At the moment, her participation was enough. She didn’t need to do anything more to please him. He’d never met a more impressive creature.

  “Ah!” Her eyes opened wide and nails pierced his flesh.

  Hissing at the sharp pain, he slowed his thrusts, circled his hips. “Don’t tamp it down. Let it out. It’ll feel so good with me inside you.”

  “But you—oh, gods.” She tipped her head back and her lips quivered and teeth chattered as her nails dug down his back.

  He gasped at her channel’s clenching spasms around his cock, and pushed himself up onto his forearms to thrust into her again and again before it stopped. Her body seemed insistent on drawing out the raging fire in his belly and extinguishing his lust, so he let it.

  “Fuck!” He started to pull out as her body drew forth his seed, but she tightened her legs around his thighs, and grabbed his bottom lip between her teeth, letting it snap back.

  “Don’t disrespect me.”

  Vision blurring and blood pounding in his head, all he could do was nod as he came. Denying one’s mate his seed would have been considered an insult—the action would suggest she wasn’t a worthy vessel, and she certainly was. He was just used to being cautious.

  Spent, he collapsed, half on her and half beside her, catching his breath as his cock deflated inside her. Turning his face toward her, he searched her expression for any sign of regret or revulsion.

  Swollen lips parted, she extended a tentative hand to his face. Her fingers hovered just beside his nose where his patch began.

  She seemed to be seeking his permission, so he nodded. She nudged the bit of fabric aside and carefully freed the cord from his hair. “You don’t have to hide in your own house. You don’t have to hide from me.”

  Carefully pulling out of her, he righted himself and propped his body up on his forearms. He wanted her to get a good look at the thing she thought he shouldn’t be hiding.

  She skimmed gentle fingertips along his brow ridge and across his scarred eyelid. “Lucky to have eyelashes like that. Girls pay a lot of money to pretend that they have them.”

  “I’d rather have the vision than the lashes.”

  “You can’t see anything at all?”

  “Just light changes. The fact that the eye isn’t dead is probably why my wolf can still see just fine.”

  “I bet you make a handsome wolf.” She tucked his hair behind his ears and kissed both of his eyelids.

  “Maybe. Still not biting you, though, if that’s where your thoughts are headed. Not going to do that to you. Contrary to what you’re thinking, you shifting would make it harder for me to take care of you.” Wolves played rough. Even when they didn’t mean any harm, she could get hurt by a playful bite or swipe. She wouldn’t bounce back as quickly as he would. There was no good reason for her to shift.

  She pouted, but he kissed it away.

  “I like you on two legs, little wolf. I hope that’s not a deal breaker now that I can’t bear to send you away.”

  He eased off the bed and padded toward the bathroom, glancing back once to see her chewing on her lip as she stared at the ceiling.

  She’d get over it. He could be just as stubborn as her, so he’d make sure of it in the sweetest way he knew how.

  New pack. New rules. They’d make a few of their own now.

  His little wolf didn’t need fangs to earn her place.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Christina thought it would be enough, but it wasn’t. Anton had made gentle love to her again and again and held her throughout the night like he wanted her. When he woke up and had to start his day, he didn’t leave the bed before kissing her and telling her everywhere she’d be able to find him if she needed him. He did everything a typical woman could have hoped for.

  But—she wasn’t a typical woman. She was a wolf. Her wolf might have been suppressed—quieted—but she couldn’t help her nature, and her nature said she’d failed. She hadn’t really won her man—she’d just made it so that no other decent woman would have him. The victory didn’t taste as sweet as it should have, because she knew she’d be different than the other mates. They’d wonder why he thought her unworthy of his bite—think she was less than they were.

  After a morning of feeling sorry for herself in the house, she decided to go feel sorry for herself outside. The moment she stepped onto the doormat, she changed her mind.

  She heard the howling way back near the mountains and recognized it as the Pack. The girls, she thought. She’d seen Anton’s aunt leading them out earlier while Christina was at the kitchen sink washing out breakfast dishes. They’d been dressed to shift—loose clothes and slip-off shoes. Probably getting lessons in handling their animal halves. The men didn’t tag along, so maybe the girls were getting better at it. Christina was behind the curve. Hell, maybe she wasn’t even on the curve anymore. Without a bite, she’d never shift, and no one besides her mate could give her one.

  She stood there on the mat, staring out at the desert for a long while. Then she squared her shoulders. No use harping over things beyond her control. She’d told Anton she wished more than anything to be productive, and since she’d meant it, she would act like it. If she were going to beg for work, though, she was going to start at the top.

  Just let them tell me no.

  She grabbed her purse from the coat rack, tidied her hair in a bun, and set out for Norseton. She bypassed all of the shops and restaurants this time, heading straight for the front door of the executive mansion, as though she’d been invited.

  One of the Pack wolves—hell, she didn’t even know his name—jogged across the lawn as if to intercept her, but she’d already rung the bell.

  “What are you doing here? Anton’s doing target practice,” he said.

  “I’m not looking for Anton.” She squared her shoulders and twined her fingers together in front of her.

  “Does he know you’re here?”

  The door opened, and a prim, brown-skinned woman holding a walkie-talkie and a clipboard stepped in front of it. She raised an eyebrow at the wolf, who put up his hands in a, Hey, I tried, gesture. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Christina cleared her throat. “I’m—I’m a Pack mate.” There was really no better word for what she was. “My wolf said that I might find some work here.”

  “I’m going to get in such deep shit with Adam,” the guard wolf said.

  “Who’s your wolf?” the woman asked. “Not that one, I’m guessing.”

  “No. Anton.”

  “Anton.” Eyes narrowed, the woman tapped the antenna of her walkie-talkie against her chin and nodded. “Lucky girl. Gotta respect a guy who works as hard as he does.”

  Christina’s cheeks burned with pride, and she smiled. “I do.” It was nice to have her early assessment of him validated.

  “He’s actually out back beyond the courtyard with some potential guards we’re trying out, putting them through target practice. Why don’t you come in?” She held the door open a little wider, and Christina stepped across the threshold. Somehow, she managed to suppress her compulsion to stick her tongue out at her fellow wolf.

  The other woman closed the door behind them and extended her hand. “I’m Lora, the Afótama queen’s personal assistant.”

  “Oh!” Christina took the proffered hand and shook it. “The queen’s personal assistant answers the front door?”

  Lora steered them across the atrium, towar
d a hall at the right. “In my office, I get a pretty decent view of who’s outside because of all the surveillance cameras. Every new resident in Norseton gets background checked, and your file had just crossed my desk. I recognized your face. We’re short-staffed at the moment, so, yeah. I answered the door. There’s no one else available to. Ask Anton to get you up to speed on specifically why that is.”

  “I will. So, what sort of jobs do you have available here?”

  “Tell me what you’re good at, and we’ll figure something out.”

  “Just that easy?”

  “Sure. Part of our agreement with your pack, though I see it as a buy-one, get-one deal. You ladies are bonuses, as far as I’m concerned. You’re the first mate who has popped by, other than Mrs. Carbone. I was wondering if your Pack Momma was going to send any of you over.”

  “The rest are busy. With their wolf selves, I mean. They’re new at shifting.”

  “And you’re not?”

  Christina’s face burned hot again, but this time not from pride—just the opposite. “I can’t shift.”

  “Oh, I see.” Lora led her up a stairwell, down a hall, past a large library-type room, and into a small office. “Don’t take my lack of questioning as disinterest, okay? I do my job as well as I do because I accept information only on a need-to-know basis.”

  “I understand.” Thank the lord. At least Lora wouldn’t be judging her on that.

  Lora indicated a chair Christina could take, and depressed the button on her walkie-talkie. “Mr. Denis, can you head up to my office when you have a minute?”

  “Anything wrong?” Anton returned.

  “Nothing at all. Just need to hash out some scheduling to make sure I don’t inadvertently have your wife working opposite shifts.”

  Wife? Christina held up an index finger. She’d forgotten all about it. While the others had certainly received their certificates and civil ceremonies by now, she and Anton were still ramping up to that. She hoped, anyway. “Um—”

  “Can you give me half an hour?” Anton asked. “We need to let these guys know one way or the other if they’re up to snuff before the next round.”