She should have gone on that diet last month. And avoided those chocolate peanuts. Her thighs could easily be mistaken for turkey legs.
He pulled her flush against his chest. Sela opened her mouth to scream. Would her tiny ice daggers even work against his tough hide? Bullets hadn’t made a dent, at least not for long.
His chest heaved up and down under her nose, his thick pelt tickling her. Rough growls filled the space above her head. Is he laughing at me?
Sela absently rubbed her cheek against the fur on his chest. Did all werewolves have such a demented sense of humor? Did they all smell so earthy and woodsy and faintly intoxicating? Like Mac?
Come on already, Chickie. Get him out of your head . . .
The light bulb didn’t light up right away. It blinked and stuttered and made funny sparking sounds while the idea swirled and rolled around in her head.
No. No way. Not possible.
The bulb stuttered some more.
Mac blurred. The werewolf had blurred when he’d ripped apart the MIBs.
The bulb flickered.
Mac’s eyes had sparked and swirled with little amber flecks when he felt strongly about something. The werewolf’s amber eyes swirled and glowed.
The bulb flashed.
Mac protected her. The werewolf protected her.
The bulb blinked wildly.
Mac and the werewolf smelled exactly the same.
The light bulb shattered.
Sela looked owl-eyed up at Mac. He grinned at her. A tiny droplet of blood fell from a fang to land on her cheek.
Sela passed out.
Chapter Nine
Mac paced impatiently at the end of the bed. Hands fisted inside his jean pockets. He’d wait until she woke up on her own.
She’d had a rough time. Captured, tortured, rescued by a werewolf. He would not yell at her. He would be reasonable and calm and let her explain.
Sela shifted on the bed and moaned. He froze. He’d cleaned up her injuries, but he knew she felt them every time she moved. She wouldn’t have been captured if she hadn’t run. She wouldn’t be hurt now if they’d bonded.
His pockets ripped. His shirt suddenly felt entirely too tight. He took a breath and forced his beast back down. He was determined to be in his human form and calm when she awoke.
His cell phone vibrated on the dresser. Mac ignored it. Probably Roc again. Roc hadn’t been far behind Mac when he’d entered the building. He’d taken care of the first floor while Mac had been killing off the ones on the second floor. Afterwards he’d waved when Mac came out of the building carrying Sela, but wisely kept his distance.
Only a fool would come near a werewolf protecting his mate.
Sela rolled onto her side. Her moan pierced him.
Why had she run? He’d wanted her complete trust before he’d shown her his other side. Bloody fangs, lethal claws. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Could she accept him after that?
He whirled and punched another hole in the wall. He yanked his fist out and punched again. Yank. Punch. Yank. Punch.
“I think a punching bag would be better than your wall, don’t you?”
Mac whipped around. Sela sat up in the bed, sheet clutched over her breasts, hair hanging in tangled clumps over her shoulders. Should have combed her hair.
Fine red gashes marred her shoulders, neck and arms. Her right arm held two black and blistering marks. An ugly red wound ran along her left shoulder. If she lowered the sheet he’d see similar marks all over her body.
He tightened his fists so she wouldn’t see his claws emerging. Should have gotten to her sooner. Should have protected her.
Her eyes moved around the room, avoiding his. She blushed when she looked at the bathroom. His cock twitched in response.
No one ever warned him that when he found his mate he would want to thrust inside her, hug her and spank her all at once. If only she hadn’t run . . .
“How are you feeling?” He winced. Lame, but better than yelling at her.
“Fine.” She grimaced, still looking anywhere but at him.
He snorted. “You look fine.”
That drew her gaze. She glared at him. “Must you snort at me? It’s rude.”
“Rude?” He growled. “You take off without a word and . . .” Mac broke off and spun around. Damn it all. He was shouting at her. He should be comforting her, easing her fear of him.
He turned back, paced to the side of the bed, sitting down next to her. She didn’t flinch away. He took that as a good sign, but she was back to avoiding his eyes.
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. He had to know. “Why did you run?”
She frowned. “Why wouldn’t I run? Remember the MIBS? The bad guys are after me. They’re always after me. I have to keep running. I can’t stop.” Her face paled. “I won’t be caged.”
He rubbed his thumb along her jaw. “I won’t let them near you again.” Something in her words struck him. “What do you mean you can’t stop? What about your home? What about . . .”
She flicked her hand, dismissing his words. “What home? I just told you. I have to keep running or they will catch me.”
“But surely you have a home someplace?” A terrible suspicion took root in his gut.
She scowled at him. “I just told you. I. Do. Not. Have. A. Home.”
“What about the house you grew up in? You have a mother and father, right?”
Sela shrugged. “I never knew my father and mom died a while back.” She shook her head as if dismissing a bad memory. Then she frowned, irritated again. “But we still didn’t have a home growing up. I told you before, the MIBs have been after the women in my family for years.”
He struggled to understand. He didn’t want to believe her. “You mean you’ve spent your entire life on the run? You’ve never stayed in one place? Never had a home?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
How could she sound so cavalier? He couldn’t begin to fathom a life on the run, without a permanent home. His clan was everything. Their town in the valley was small and protected by the large mountains surrounding it. Everyone who lived there was a member of their clan. They lived together, laughed together and fought side by side.
His home was on the outskirts of the town, but he didn’t think that there had been a single day spent alone. Not one. How could she stand it? Isolated, alone with no one to depend on but herself? He had his entire clan behind him.
He ached inside for everything she didn’t have.
He could cheerfully kill those bastards all over again. No wonder she’d run. She’d never had anyone to depend on.
But she did now. She would never be alone, never have to run again.
His voice gruff, he said, “You have a home now.”
Something flashed through her eyes too quickly for him to decipher before she rolled her eyes at him and said, “Are you being deliberately obtuse? I just spent the last few minutes explaining that I can’t stay in one place. They’ll catch me if I do.”
“You don’t have to worry about being caught anymore. I won’t let them near you. You’re my mate. You’re safe now. You have a home.”
****
If only . . . an actual home? The same bed every night? Safety?
The depth of longing that opened up inside of her at his words frightened her in the extreme. Her every hope and desire laid right before her eyes.
Down, Chickie. Don’t go there. Don’t even think about it. It will never happen. They won’t ever leave you alone. They’ll decimate anyone close to him to get to you. Don’t hope. Don’t want.
Sela shuddered. She forced the treacherous pit closed. She knew better, damn it. She only had to remember her mother to know what Mac offered was not possible.
When she was certain she had her emotions under control, Sela smiled at him. “Sure, we’ve known each other for what? A day? And you’re offering me your home?”
Mac frowned at her. He opened his mouth, but Sela rushe
d to interrupt him. She could not allow the possibility of hope to tempt her. She might fool herself upon occasion, late at night hiding in dark alleys, or working some menial temporary job that she could have a real home someday. But she knew the truth. Sela considered herself the Ultimate Mistress of Deception. What an honor.
“So, what’s this mate thing you keep referring to? I get the impression you’re not talking like an Aussie.”
The frown looked to be making a permanent appearance. Clearly torn between answering her question and returning to the subject of a home, Mac finally said. “You’re my mate. My mate. And I’m your mate. Mate . . .” He thrust his hand through his hair, ruffling the thick dark strands.
Sela took pity on his obvious loss of an explanation, happy to be off the previous subject. “The only type of mate I’ve ever heard of, aside from the Aussie version, is with animals. Sort of like husband and wife.”
Mac shook his head.
Of course not like a wife. Banish the fantasy, Chickie. Do you think he wants an ice throwing, rain making, not quite human for his wife?
Was it possible to throttle oneself? She hated it when her inner voice became so pessimistic.
She could control water. She could make it rain . . . indoors. Okay, soooo not helping. Take two. She could control water. She could now fight the MIBs. Good, positive thoughts. Nice job.
He ran his hand through his hair again. Sela’s palms itched to smooth the disheveled strands back down.
What did it matter that Mac didn’t want her as his wife? They’d only known each other for a day at any rate. She didn’t need him, or his home, or his delicious warmth, or his drool inducing body, or . . . Drat. She should have stopped at not needing him.
Sigh.
“Not like a wife. A mate isn’t a choice.”
Oh joy. Now she was what? An unwanted obligation? Way to butter me up.
“A mate is a need, a craving, a completion. A mate is everything.”
I’m his everything?
Sela swallowed hard. “Is this a werewolf thing?” There. She’d actually said the word out loud.
Mac nodded, amber flecks swirling deep within his eyes. “Very much a werewolf thing. I’ve been searching for you for centuries.”
Centuries?
Sela melted. Her defenses collapsed, swept away in a flood of need unlike anything she’d known. She was wanted. Not just wanted but craved.
Her fingers shook as she lightly touched his cheek. “You want me?” Could he hear the desperation in her voice?
Mac pressed her fingers flat against his cheek. “More than anything, Lupa.”
That insidious voice snuck up on her again. The same one she’d heard the first time she saw Mac, the same one that clutched at her in the bathroom. It urged her to grab hold of Mac and never let go. Throw caution to the fates and damn the MIBs to the pits of hell where they belonged.
Mac had killed all of the MIBs back in that room. She had time before the reinforcements made an appearance.
She didn’t see how this would work. She’d been on her own and on the run for too long to envision anything else, but she couldn’t resist the moment.
“Mac.” She breathed.
The flecks in Mac’s eyes swirled and heated until they glowed in solid amber. Need poured through her, a rampaging flood of desire. She didn’t bother with a white flag of surrender. Her hormones latched onto the tide and rode it like champion surfers, complete with loud whoops of delight.
Sela clenched her thighs together. Oh hell, I think his sheets are even getting wet.
Mac’s nostrils flared. He stripped the sheet down, exposing her. Sela gasped, shocked by his abrupt movement. She looked down the length of her body and gasped again. She looked awful. How could he want her when her entire body was covered in horrible wounds and burns? Of course, now that she could see the damage for herself, everything hurt like crazy. Although strangely, not as badly as her wounds should hurt.
“I’ll be careful,” he husked.
Seriously? She could be wrapped in bubble wrap and . . . Mac stood up, he grabbed his shirt and yanked. The material ripped. He jerked the remaining strips of fabric off and began unzipping his jeans.
Wowzer.
It didn’t even begin to do him justice, but her brain could not function. Sela didn’t care. Who needed a brain? She could feast on him visually for an eternity.
She hadn’t known that men could have so many muscles. Maybe it was partly due to the werewolf thing, but Mac had some to spare. And donate. And rent. And right now those muscles were all hers to play with.
Sela eased to her knees. What was a little pain anyways? She’d cheerfully confront one of the bad guys again just to moon over his biceps alone.
She grabbed his shoulders and flattened her hands down over his upper chest. He moaned. She gasped. Silky hair tickled her palms, his skin an enticing combination of heat, silk and steel.
Sela slid her palms down to his tight nipples. She scraped her thumbs over the pointed tips. He hissed in a breath. He liked that too? Oh, good. Maybe he would like her tongue even more.
She leaned forward and lapped softly then she sucked hard, he was so layered in muscle she was unable to draw much skin into her mouth. Just enough to taste him.
“Fuck,” Mac shouted. He gripped her head between his hands, holding her pressed against him. Sela released one nipple and licked her way over to the other one. Mac moaned before she even reached his other nipple.
She nipped lightly before drawing the hard surface in. Mac shuddered in response. Sela released him and began to lick her way down the hard plane of his stomach.
“Ah, Lupa, you undo me.” Mac growled “But I get to play too.”
She was flat on her back before she knew it. Mac handled her easily but gently, carefully avoiding her wounds. Sela scowled. She wanted to . . . Holy Hannah.
Mac shucked his jeans and briefs off. His cock stood stiffly out from his body. A long way out. And she had been concerned about his fingers? She should be seriously concerned about taking that thick, length inside of her.
Drops of moisture beaded the smooth broad tip of his cock.
Sela licked her lips. Ah, who cared? What was a little more pain? She could take it. And she wanted it. Not the pain, but the feel of him deep inside her, that connection with him.
Her body needed him. She needed him.
“Mac,” she moaned, helpless against the swell of her arousal. She started to get back up on her knees. She couldn’t wait any longer.
Mac pushed her back down and leaned over her. He placed his hand on her thigh, pushing her leg out to the side. Cool air washed over her, making her aware of her vulnerability. A low growl was the only warning she got before he swiped his tongue between her plump folds. Sela gasped in surprise and arched her back.
Before she could protest, or even beg for more, his knees were between her thighs, spreading her legs further apart. Sela gazed up at his massive body.
He stared down at her, amber eyes glowing with need. His big body shook slightly as he lowered himself over her. He held his upper chest away from her, barely touching her, mindful of her injuries. His hips pressed into hers, the silky hair on his chest rubbed her breasts. Her nipples pulled even tighter. He braced his arms next to her shoulders.
He thrust his fingers into her hair, she shifted slightly and he tightened his hold. She was caught, held captive by him. She loved it.
He ran his tongue along the tendon in her neck up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. His tongue left a warm, wet trail behind. She shivered in reaction.
He inhaled slowly. As he exhaled, a deep rumbling purr vibrated his chest, pulsing against her nipples. The vibration snaked down her body and swirled around her clitoris like the lash of his tongue.
She didn’t wear perfume. What did he smell? Wolves had an incredibly strong sense of smell. Did he have that in common with his brethren?
He moved and his hips pressed tighter to hers. His erect
ion pushed at her folds, demanding entrance. Mac thrust his hips forward, his cock surged inward an inch.
Sela arched up, gasped and retreated. Definitely bigger than his fingers.
Mac reached one hand under her hips, palming her cheeks. He tightened his hold on her hair at the same time.
“Don’t move,” he panted against her neck. His chest heaved. His big body shuddered over her.
“Need to go slow. Mate.”
Sela nodded. “Slow is good.” She burned. Every part of her. Pain and need combined in a crazy swirl. Sela struggled to breath, to take it all in.
Her mark burned as if someone had poured boiling water over it. She arched slightly and Mac slid in another inch. They both moaned. She was stretched tight around him, his thick cock pushing her to her limits. She wanted him to pull back. She needed him to thrust deeper.
“Don’t move, Lupa.” Mac’s fingers dug into her cheeks. “Don’t. . .” He thrust in another inch, groaned and stopped. His big body shook.
She couldn’t take it. He was too big, she was too stretched . . . ah, damn, but she needed him deeper, all the way inside, as far as he could go. She wanted him to take her over the edge again.
Caught up in the maelstrom, Sela arched upwards as far as his grip would allow. At the same time she grabbed his hips and pulled hard.
Mac surged all the way in. He groaned. She screamed.
Holy Hannah, why didn’t I go slow? I should have gone slow.
She drew in a sharp breath. Every nerve in her body screamed in pain, every one of her wounds suddenly shrieking, the worst of it emanating from her mark and between her legs. Someone had switched the boiling water to burning lava. And between her legs . . . cripes, maybe werewolf men needed werewolf women to do this with. Any pleasure she had felt was completely gone, doused by the pain. Sela wanted to scream again. This was not what she wanted, what she’d expected.
This was all wrong.
“Shh, don’t cry.” Mac rained tiny kisses around her eyes. “I’ll make it better. I promise.”
She was crying? Damn it all.
Sela glared up at his blurry face. “This hurts,” she complained. She let go of his hip to wipe her eyes. His face cleared and she found herself caught up in his amber gaze. Regret, relief, satisfaction, concern and most of all fierce, unquenched, raw need blazed down at her.
Tall, Dark and Furry (The Elementals Book 1) Page 8