by T. A. Grey
Alex could never give her wanted she wanted, needed, or required in life. Those luxurious things she enjoyed. Yeah, sure he could keep his dick in his pants and not cheat, that one was simple enough, but he could never give her kids. He would never be able to afford the luxuries she deserved and used.
How would look together in public? Such a simple thing. And his mind got all turned around, fucked up thinking about. He in his black jeans, leather jacket and motorcycle and her wearing her fine clothes and shiny tote bags and nice shoes? It didn’t make sense. They wouldn’t look like a couple together, but like a mismatched pair.
People would look at them and ask how did he manage to snag someone like her? They wouldn’t even be able to guess “money” seeing as he wasn’t rich and certainly didn’t look the part.
Fact was Hanna would be lowering herself to be with him. Hell, he was jumping to conclusions even considering she would “hypothetically” mate with him. Honestly, when he played out the scenario in his head (him asking Hanna to mate with him); he could see the scrunching confusion on her face. Huh? Her eyebrows would dip low and one corner of her lip would curl up in confusion.
It was similar to the look women gave his dick when they finally got a look at what hid dad did to him.
“The snow’s really coming down now.”
Hanna’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. Shit! The pistol in his lap jostled, nearly falling, before he managed to catch it.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly. His voice had dropped a cadence during his thoughts. Hanna glanced at him, then shrugged and went back to preparing the bird. Thank god.
Maybe they’d leave in the morning. First thing. He already had a basic plan in mind. They’d steal a car, and drive around the Gerioux pack back to get back home. It would take a few days, and they could save a significant amount of time if only they drove through Gerioux territory, which obviously was not a viable option. He also considered leaving at first light, because then he wouldn’t have to be in this confined space with Hanna. Smelling her luscious vanilla scent. Like a sweet-smelling candle, but combined with her heady feminine natural aromas--created a heady, alluring scent that beckoned him like a dog to a treat.
He didn’t like being confined with her. Again. Things could get dangerous, and that was the last thing he wanted. Hell, it was the last thing either of them needed. They had to find a way to survive with their meager supplies. And they had a long way to go with limited resources.
But, no matter what he told himself, his brain still deterred back to Hanna, like a slingshot returning to its original position. Beautiful golden hair, soft, smooth skin (he’d touched it first hand), and damn but her body was smoking hot. She had the kind of curves and soft spots that made a man remember later on.
Yet, his problem remained.
Princesses didn’t mate with porters.
The bourgeoisie did not fraternize with the slaves.
The elite did not marry the poor.
And in every case where the porter did fuck the princess, he’s eventually cast out by the royal family, which was significantly better than the other option--the porter’s dead body being found dead in the woods mysteriously.
What did all this mean? It meant he had no business doing anything with Hanna MacKellen. He didn’t need to be thinking about kissing her, nor dreaming about having eating her pussy (which he’d tasted and fuckin’ loved), or thinking of how great it would be to have sex with her. Yeah, pretty much, he had zero fucking business thinking anything of the kind.
“Can I have your help for a minute? This pot needs to be set over the fire somehow.” She looked at a lost.
Alex was happy to have something to do. He surged to his feet, grabbed the roasting pot with the bird in it, it’d been seasoned a touch with old salt, and got it into a safe position over the fire.
“Thanks,” Hanna said. She smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back and looked away, giving her his back.
He felt uncomfortable. Weird. Not at all like his usual self.
“Ok, I’m gonna clean up with some of that hot water I saved. There’s isn’t much room so I’ll be in the kitchen doing it. So, you might not want to come in, unless you wanna catch some bare-moon action.” She laughed, but he didn’t join her. He heard her sigh in frustration and then listened to her retreating footsteps.
Finally, he could be alone to stew on his bothersome thoughts.
He tried to steer his mind away from Hanna. Tried to. A task that became increasingly difficult as Hanna started to undress, changing out of her wet snow gear. That he could deal with, her wearing less clothing around him. He was a grown man who had seen many nude women of all shapes, sizes and colors in his life. He could deal. He didn’t mind admiring her curves from the corner of his eye. It was her being in the same room with him that really set him on edge.
So, Alex sat at the window, back to the house while Hanna took a bath in the kitchen, where he heard splashes.
Normally he was not a man who aroused easily, and certainly, he didn’t walk around with his cock in a perpetual state of erect. Not at all. He had absolute control of his dick. Prided himself on that fact. He let it know when it was time to rise to the occasion, not the other way around. This turned out to be not one of those times.
And yet.
His mind drifted as he stared off at the snow banks in the distance. Lost in the sounds of water, and nature’s silence, Alex’s mind returned to those forbidden fantasies. Vivid, colorful images that flashed across his vision like picture slides. Visions of wet nipples covered with suds, Hanna swishing that cloth down her soft stomach, cleaning herself, rubbing between her legs. Alex bit his fist until pain receptors triggered in his brain.
The pain snapped him back to reality. He was sweating. The smell of roasting meat drifted to his nose making his stomach growl. Snowfall came down swiftly, little delicate white sprinkles that looked innocent enough, but could seriously hurt. It didn’t look ready to let up anytime soon, the sky a striking somber color. They could easily get snowed in if they weren’t careful.
How long had she been bathing anyway? His mood soured, irritation rising, imminently awaiting its crash to reality.
Why couldn’t he find her disgusting or hateful or anything else?
What bothered him was that she’d never seen an imperfect man in her whole life. Let alone the kind with a problem like he had--a fucked up gift his father had left him with. That son of a bitch might be out of his life, but he’d left scars Alex had to deal with for the rest of his life.
Only days after his father scarred his genitals in an attempt to emasculate him, would Alex venture back to his father’s house. To give him a final parting gift. That night he fought physically with his father in a battle. It hadn’t been short either. It’d lasted. And when he was the final one standing, he’d felt for the first time in his whole life, peace. The enemy was down.
The enemy finally feared him. In his young, teenage eyes, he’d finally proven that he wouldn’t take his father’s shit anymore. Months later, his father would die, and Alex never shed a tear, didn’t even attend the burial. Hell, he heard no one did. Instead, he’d gone out and gotten drunk and fucked two hookers while high and loaded out of his mind. It’d been the best night of his teenage life.
He’d been sixteen years old. And he’d go on to have many more nights like that.
“Alex?”
He jerked, the voice startling him. The gun clattered to the floor. Alex swiftly picked it up, setting it on the windowsill, angry with himself. Fuck. His head pulsed with an ache, making his eyes twitch and his teeth gnash. He needed a damn bottle of Jack and a joint. Because he felt like he was slowly unraveling. A ball of yarn rolling down a hill until eventually all was laid bare.
“Alex?” she asked again, hesitant.
“What?” he snapped.
She paused and he sensed he’d upset her. “Never mind, I’ll take care of it myself.”
Damn it. He hated himself for
what he said, so he went after her. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--- ” He froze mid-sentence as he entered the kitchen. His head had been hanging low so he didn’t see it coming. Lukewarm water thrown in his face, dousing him from head to toe. Blinking through dirty, soapy water, a growl emanated from the back of his throat.
Dirty water soaked his clothes and the floor beneath his boots, a small puddle forming where he stood.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice took on a feral tone. One that told her she was in imminent danger of feeling his wrath.
Hanna grinned, looking astonished and incredibly unabashed at what she’d done. He swore he even heard a teensy laugh. She held the empty pot, stunned.
“I’m cleaning your lousy attitude off.” She laughed again...at him. This time pointing and going so far as to toss her head back and laugh, laugh, laugh.
Alex growled. A warning. She only laughed harder. Having no idea the danger she was in.
“You should see how funny you look! Well that’s what you get for being mean to me.” Wiping away a stray tear, she set down the pot.
“This is what you wanted from me? To throw dirty water on me?”
She sent him a reprimanding look. “Not at all. I’d intended to ask you if you wanted to come remove this rather large rodent running along the walls and scaring me half to death, but I’d never gotten to ask that question.”
Said rodent, he spotted as soon as she said it, was quite large and scurried through a crack in the floorboards beneath the house. A big rat.
“So you decide to throw water on me?” He still held his arms out from his body, aghast at the atrocity.
She couldn’t stop laughing. He glared at her, lip snarling.
“I don’t find any of this amusing.” Not even a little bit.
“I can see that, but you were quite rude.” Giggle. Even her hand covered her mouth to smother her laughter, but that failed miserably. He could still hear her laughing and could clearly see the twinkle in her eyes, all aimed at him.
Alex couldn’t stand it. His frustration peaked, going into red territory, rising to dangerous levels. And before he knew it, he pushed her. Just enough. Hanna stumbled back a step. He wouldn’t hurt her, but he would physically move her to where he wanted. She threw up her hands. “What the hell, Alex? It was just a joke.”
He stalked her. The animal was out of the cage. And she’d released him with no one to blame but herself.
He followed her step-by-step and when he came within reach he gently shoved her shoulder again.
“The fuck, Alex?” she cursed.
But her back finally hit the wall. A flat space. Exactly where he needed her for what he was about to do to her.
“Hold on, princess.”
She shook her head in confusion. “For what?”
Suddenly, his hands curled around her upper thighs, beneath her juicy bum, and he lifted her against him and pressed her flush to the wall. She gasped, eyes flying wide open. He could see the pulse at her neck leaping chaotically.
God, yes, he could smell her so well up close. She smelled fresh and sexy as hell. He wanted to run his tongue down her neck and never stop tasting her. He wanted to pull her clothes off and make her come again and again just to see how many times he could.
“This is wrong.” His eyes drifted over her face, over those captivating eyes that dazzled him. Pretty Hanna MacKellen. No other like her, no other could possibly compare. “But I’m gonna do it anyway.” He leaned in, mouth close to hers. She sounded close to hyperventilating, panting at him, which spiked his blood sugar another notch hotter.
“Princess, you’re the most maddening woman I’ve ever known in my entire life.” A compliment, even to his own ears.
“I find that hard to believe,” she whispered. Her hands snaked around his neck pulling him closer.
Yes, his body cheered, more of that.
Then an odd thought struck him: he was getting her shirt wet.
“Are you going to kiss me, Alex?” She sounded hopeful. A touch of yearning in her voice that reached out to him and smothered him in warmth. He wanted to say yes, hell, his body already agreed that kissing Hanna would be a great idea. But at the same time in the back of his brain, his personal doubts remained strong as to why he couldn’t do this.
Alex was lost in her spell that only she could weave, like the seductive sorceress she was. And then he kissed her. Delicate as a butterfly, a sampling of wares before deciding on a purchase. His mouth caressed hers, sliding tenderly across that mouth of hers he’d spent time thinking about. Imagining it. Fantasying about it. Swift, chaste, but not less potent, kissing Hanna was like taking a bite of ice cream--one lick would never be enough--he wanted the whole thing. But....
He ended the kiss abruptly, leaving her sputtering. He dropped her delectable body back to the floor.
Her cheeks were flushed with arousal. “Why did you stop?” She grabbed for him but he sidestepped her advances. Her eyes narrowed on him suspiciously and in that moment, he felt a surge of victory. He couldn’t celebrate yet.
“There,” he announced. “Now we’re on equal ground.”
Her eyes snapped at him, pure feminine fury. He estimated he had fewer than sixty seconds to leave the room before she blew up at him. “You’re teasing me, Alex?”
“I’m all wet and now, so are you, princess.” He gave her a pointed look. The material was wet from where he’d clung to her. The wet shirt clung to her bare breasts creating quite the stirring sight of dark, circular nipples, budded to hard points. An appetizing sight that stirred more than his blood.
But before she could articulate a response, he swiftly exited the room lest she began tossing other things at him. Such as knives.
* * * * *
Hanna smiled brightly across the table to her compatriot, Alexander Thompson. She was having the best of times! She was clean and refreshed her clothes warm and new, the arrow wound on her back was healing nicely, and on top of all that, she was safe from Xavier and his Justicars.
She was tucked away with the most dangerous man Hanna had ever known. Mysterious too, as Alex seemed to enjoy his festering secrets. While Hanna wanted to learn all about them, down to the nitty-gritty. Not that she wasn’t willing to share her secrets too--though she doubted she had any at all. What could she possibly spill to Alex that he didn’t already know about her?
These thoughts drifted through her mind, all while eating. She’d roasted the bird and it came out rather well, the whole cabin smelled of tasty meat. Delicious, juicy meat that tasted like chicken, but gamier. Her stomach appreciated the food and let her know it by rumbling happy sounds at her.
Alex shared none of her cheer at their meal, choosing instead to hunch over his plate, not speaking anything more than the occasional grunt in response to something she asked him. Truly, she was having the grandest of times. This was more fun than it ought to be.
So, Hanna let him be. He was still upset with the “wet kitchen fiasco” as she’d taken to calling it. Really, it was only a little water, what was he so angry about? All flippancy aside, she believed she knew the culprit to his ill mood.
He wanted her. Badly. And it was killing him not to take her.
She sent him another coy smile, and he hesitated before eating another bite. Oh boy did she enjoy this. Let him suffer. Least he deserved for pushing her just so he could kiss her senseless and walkaway! He walked away!
Another sweet smile on the outside, while inwardly her animal planned and plotted Alex’s ultimate demise. He thought he could one-up her like that? She didn’t think so. He thought he could leave her wet (in more ways than one)? No way. She was Hanna MacKellen. She didn’t back down for anything. Not anymore. This new Hanna wanted revenge. Sweet, tasty revenge. He didn’t get to shove her, though admittedly not hard, and kiss her, though rather wonderfully, and then leave her like yesterday’s garbage. Nu uh. No way.
And, oh my, how sweet payback, err, victory would be.
She would teach Alexander Thompson not to mess with Hanna MacKellen.
Soon.
They ate a rather small portion of the bird, both filling up quickly. Hanna replaced the lid back on the pot to keep the bird for later.
“We need to get to a phone so I can call Gavin and explain what’s happened. Gavin should be able to let Jo know he needs to leave too. It could be dangerous from him there.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, too distracted to look up at her.
“It’s possible they could come pick us up.”
He shrugged.
Hanna’s eyes narrowed at his lackadaisical response before she sent him a dazzling smile. “Come on, sweet cakes, what’re you so glum about? Was kissing me that awful? Did it...take a little piece out of you? From deep within your soul?” She made a dramatic expression.
From across the table, Alex lifted his head and gave her the devil’s glare. At least that worked. She was making him angry. Good, she thought, now she could get somewhere.
“You can speak, can’t you?” she asked.
He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl. She flashed him a grin.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since...since...” Hanna’s mind drifted off, trying to remember such a fun occasion, but came away with dismal results. She hadn’t had this much fun with any of the dates she’d been on after divorcing Tom. Especially not with Remi Gerioux. Even thinking his name now brought chills to her body. She shivered. “Never mind.” She didn’t want to think about Remi or his death, or about the Gerioux pack or Queen Lysette or Xavier, because the moment she did, her entire mindset became depressed. Dismal as death.
No, she wanted to keep those thoughts far, far away.
“Don’t let it get to you.”
Alex’s rather tender statement caught her off guard.
“Whatever are you talking about?”
He rolled his eyes. Probably she because she couldn’t seem to help but sound haughty with every question she asked--her voice would roll upward with inflection becoming higher pitched. No wonder he called her the “princess”. She sounded snooty even to her own ears.