Holtz turned serious amber eyes toward her. “What do you mean?”
“They insisted I be here for a reason, Holtz. And you know why. You have to finish it.”
He stared at her in confusion for several seconds, then he shook his head. Adamant. “No. Absolutely not, Irene.”
She pushed the chair back and stood, pulling the T-shirt up over her head and tossing it to the floor. “You need to finish this. Now.” Finish it before she lost her nerve.
“No, Irene. I won’t…” He cleared his throat. “What we have is ours. No one else’s. I won’t involve you just to…forget it.”
Irene walked to the balcony doors and pushed them open all the way, then went to the top drawer of Holtz’s chest of drawers and grabbed the box of condoms she’d found earlier when looking for something to wear to bed. She walked back to him and stared down into that handsome face. She had this weird feeling in her chest. For several moments she worried it was something that would need immediate medical attention. Then Van Holtz looked up at her and the feeling doubled, tripled.
She loved him.
And she’d protect what was hers.
Kneeling in front of him, Irene reached out and wrapped her hand around his cock. It had started to get erect as soon as she’d taken the T-shirt off. But once she put her hand on it, she suddenly held a steel pipe.
“God, Irene,” he groaned. “Stop.”
“There’s no option here, Holtz. I’m not giving you one.” To prove it, she leaned over and took the tip of his cock into her mouth. His breath hissed out and his hand slid into her hair, grasping the back of her head. Relaxing her throat, she swallowed all of him and sucked hard.
The hand massaging her scalp suddenly had claws, and Holtz pulled her off him. He gave her just enough time to put the condom on him before he slammed her flat on her back. He shoved his cock inside her before she could think of what to say.
Irene slapped her hands against his hips and gripped them tight, pulling him closer. Letting him know without words that she wanted this. Wanted him. And she didn’t want him to hold back.
He stared down at her with the eyes of a wolf. But even through the cold eyes of a predator she saw more love and caring than she’d seen from any man.
Holtz placed his hands flat on the floor right above her shoulders, bracing his forearms against her body. They held her in place when he slammed into her that first time. And the next time. And the next.
And she didn’t hold back how good it felt. So good she never wanted him to stop.
He powered into her again and again, never letting his eyes stray from her face. Never letting her look anywhere else but at him. It should have hurt, the way he slammed into her. She should have begged him to stop. But instead she raised her knees up so he could get deeper inside her.
It didn’t take long for that orgasm to rush up on her. To slam into her with such force that the scream he tore out of her was real and probably heard as far away as Löwe Pride territory.
She didn’t know when the tears started, but she sobbed through that orgasm and right into the next. By the third, he ordered her to mark him. To make him her own. She found a spot already opened from his father’s claw. Setting her teeth on the wound, she bit down hard.
His grunt told her it hurt him, but then his entire body went stiff and he was coming. The two of them joined in a way so primal they moved on instinct alone.
Holtz dropped on top of her, their sweat and all sorts of other juices commingling. And Irene simply didn’t care. In fact, she’d at least admit to herself, she loved it.
“God, Irene. Are you okay?” His hands moved over her, soothing her.
She nodded, still unsure of her voice. And she really didn’t want to start crying again.
He leaned back and stared at her. His eyes were human again, his incisors gone. “Are you sure? Did I hurt you?”
Irene reached up with one hand and ran her fingers down his cheek, across his lips. She stared hard at his face, taking a snapshot with her mind of every line, every scar.
“I love you.”
She’d said it simply, plainly. The way she said most things. And like that Van’s whole world changed. It became perfect.
He lay on his back, pulling her with him, not letting her go. His condom-covered cock still buried inside her, already itching to go again. “I love you, Irene. God, I love you so much.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder. Nothing in his life had ever felt so right before.
Van gripped both sides of her face with his hands and forced her to look at him. He kissed her nose, her cheeks, her lips. He kissed her and loved her. “This time, Irene,” he said softly while pushing her on her back once again. “This time is just for us.”
He took her slow and easy after that, Irene’s cheek braced against his chest, her arms holding him tight.
And when the Pack howled to them outside the window, his mother and father included, he felt her smile.
Ten
Van reached out for Irene but his hand touched an empty bed. Opening his eyes, he looked around the room and found Irene standing by the terrace doors, staring out at the nearby ocean. She had a sheet wrapped around her and her hair looked wild and completely untamed in the early morning light. She looked well-fucked and he wanted her to look like that as often as he could manage.
“What’s wrong?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“You’re not reading, complaining you have to get back to work, or working. You’re just standing and staring, which means you’re thinking…which means something’s wrong.”
“You figured me out rather quickly.”
“Actually I’ve had seven years to figure you out. So what’s wrong, doc?”
She leaned against the doorframe. “Thinking about last night.”
“You regret it?”
“No.” She turned those amazing blue eyes toward him. “But I’m hoping you don’t.”
“Why would I?”
“Because this isn’t changing.”
He didn’t understand her. “What isn’t?”
“Me. This is it. Based on genetics, the only changes I see happening are the widening of my butt and the occasional mole if I don’t avoid the sun. My brain, especially, will not change barring Alzheimer’s, dementia, or a tragic head injury.”
Laughing, Van lay back in the bed. “Irene, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m never going to be suave or delicate or polite. I’ll never look any better than I do at the moment and I’m severely average.” She held up her hand before he could say anything. “I’m not blind and I’m always honest with myself. And it’s never concerned me before. I’m very happy with who I am. I’ve got bigger issues on my mind than whether I’m wearing the latest Gucci outfit or if I look fat in photos.”
“Okay.”
“That being said, I am not going to spend my life worrying that I’m not pretty enough for you or disappointing you when we go out to some godawful dinner that I’d rather chew nails than go to. You wanted this and now you’re stuck with it.”
Van raised his eyebrows. “You done?”
“Yes. I’ve said all that needed to be said.”
“Good. Now come here.”
She turned from the door and walked back over to the bed. He lifted the comforter and she dropped the sheet and slid inside. He pulled her close, locking his hands behind her back and pushing his knee between her thighs. He rested his forehead against her shoulder.
He’d just begun to fall asleep when she tapped his arm.
“What?” he sighed.
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
“No.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Your concerns are groundless and you’re looking for an excuse to run. I’m not giving it to you, nor am I going to bore myself with bullshit platitudes. If you wanted tha
t you should have stuck with Bradley.”
“You scared him away,” she reminded him.
“And he ran like a girl. I didn’t. So shut up and go to sleep.”
“Well if you’re going to be rude—”
“You know I’m cranky in the mornings.”
“Currently you’re downright satanic.”
“Whine, whine, whine.”
She punched his shoulder and he rolled her over to her back, using his body to hold her down.
“Clearly I need to teach you the proper way to respect the Alpha Male. Or, as you’ll call me from now on, your lord and master.”
Irene stared up at him, her face—as always during moments like these—expressionless.
“What? Would you prefer ‘my savior’?”
For Irene, the strangest part of her recent life changes came when she finished her work. Normally, she didn’t really finish her work until well into the next morning. Getting three or four hours of sleep pretty standard for her. But, for the first time in her steel-trap memory, Irene actually had a desire to leave at night. She had something to look forward to.
Van shared management of the main Van Holtz restaurant with his sister—requirements for all young Van Holtzes. The nights he worked late, so did Irene. The nights he didn’t, she usually made it home no later than seven. He always had a meal waiting for her, constantly worrying she didn’t get enough to eat. Or the proper things to eat. He flatly refused to buy her any peanut butter and crackers.
After she’d eaten and he chatted with her over his wine, he’d shift and go hunting with some of his Pack and Irene would grade papers or review lab work. They never spoke of her returning to her and Jackie’s house and last Irene heard Paul had successfully moved in.
Strange how shifters did things. No big discussions or informing people of plans. One day you were living with a friend and enjoying your life as the town genius, the next thing you knew, you’d been moved into a mansion and were the average one among the populace.
A few times, due to her work, Irene did have to stay late and either Van or one of the wolves came to pick her up. Van hated her staying late, constantly concerned about her safety. But it couldn’t be helped; she simply didn’t have what she needed at the house.
Then, three days ago, she arrived home and as she opened the door to the room she and Van shared, she noticed a pile of boxes in front of the room across the hall. Because all boxes were addressed to her, Irene proceeded to cut open the first one. She couldn’t hide her shock when she found a brand-new IBM PC AT Model 2 in one of the boxes. The rest were filled with the necessary wires and equipment, including a monitor with a color screen. He’d even gotten her an actual Trailblazer modem, which was so new she hadn’t even gotten the dean to sign off on her request yet. She’d found a note between the boxes from Van. In his surprisingly clear handwriting—for a man—he stated, “Now you can get that cute ass home on time. You know I don’t like to wait. Use this room as your office—it’s so conveniently close to the bedroom—and be naked when I get home. Love you.—Van.”
The overgrown baby had made it nearly impossible for her to stay at work when she wasn’t actually teaching or focused on something specific. It used to be when she didn’t have anything specific to do, she could find something. She’d come up with some of her most…uh…unstable but interesting ideas that way. Now she only wanted to finish up her day at the university, go home, work for a few hours there, and then spend the rest of the night rolling around her bed with Niles Van Holtz.
“How do normal people live like this?” she asked her computer, which suddenly didn’t seem nearly as cool as the one she had at home.
Her phone rang and she stared at it. She knew it was him. The one she blamed for making her a slut. Or, at the very least, bringing out the latent sluttiness in her.
When the phone rang for the sixth time, she finally picked it up.
“Yes?”
“I knew you were there. How long were you going to make me wait?”
“Until the end of time,” she sniped back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…it simply appalls me to say it, but I want to come home.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but she imagined she could actually hear his smile. “Then come home,” he finally said.
“I was afraid this would happen.”
“What?”
“You distracting me. I’ll never get the Nobel Prize at this rate.”
“Isn’t that a peace prize? You won’t get that because you’re a—”
“Shut up.”
He laughed. “Come home, doc. I want to see you. And my cock is dying to get in you.”
“It was just in me last night. And this morning. And I thought you were at the restaurant tonight.”
“That was the original plan but Carrie asked me to switch with her. She and the brain trust are going away for the weekend and she wanted Friday off.”
“That was nice of you.”
“I made her beg for it first. And then she had to promise to get me a Ferrari.”
Irene sighed.
“What’s the sigh for?”
“Nothing. It’s too stupid to comment on.”
“So you coming home soon?”
She glanced at the clock on her desk and noticed another framed picture of Holtz she’d never seen before sitting in front of it. With an annoyed growl, she moved it aside. Nearly nine o’clock and she’d gotten absolutely no work done. Now she’d go home and get no work done because Holtz would practically tackle her in the hallway…and she’d let him.
“Might as well, I guess.”
“Man, could you sound more put-upon?”
“I could, actually.”
“I’ll come by to pick you up.”
“Don’t bother. Jackie will be here any minute and she’ll drive me home.”
“You sure?”
“Do I not sound sure?”
“You know if you’re cranky when you get home, I’m going to have to fuck it out of you again.”
She closed her eyes, her body heating at the memory of that.
“Irene?”
“Shut up,” she snapped as Jackie walked through the door and then looked like she was ready to walk back out. Or run. Irene stopped Jackie’s retreat with one raised finger. “Jack’s here. I’m leaving now, you pompous, overbearing, self-obsessed, mentally challenged prick.”
“Why don’t you just admit it,” he said on a sigh. “Admit you love me and my perfectly proportioned cock. And there’s nothing you love more than its life-giving elixir.”
Irene leaned back in her chair and stared at Jackie with her mouth open. “Life-giving elixir?”
“Well, what would you call it?”
“That over-salted fluid I can’t get the taste of out of my mouth but that you keep insisting I swallow.”
Jackie walked to the other side of Irene’s tiny office and buried her face in the corner.
“Insist? We both know you beg for it.” His voice lowered. “I want you home. Now. And naked within ten minutes of you entering the house. Am I clear?”
She stood. “We’re leaving and the only thing you’ve been clear about is that you’re clinically insane.”
“This is true.”
Irene hung up and grabbed her backpack. Turning her back on her friend, she opened one of her desk drawers and removed the small titanium case she had hidden in a secret compartment. Inside the case she had a syringe filled with the last two ounces of her creation. Every day that she held on to it, the more guilty she felt. Not only that, but she realized she truly didn’t need it. Holtz, the smug bastard, had been quite right. She no longer had anything to prove to anyone but herself. Besides, anything this dangerous needed to go. And this time she’d make sure to avoid the Rubicon.
Slipping the case into her backpack, she zipped it up, and put it on her back, the straps over her shoulders.
She walked around the desk and Jackie frowne
d, stopping her in her tracks. If she found out Irene still had some of that stuff remaining, Jackie would nail her butt to the wall.
“What?” Irene asked, trying not to sound panicked.
“When did you start wearing jeans and T-shirts to work?”
Irene barely stopped herself from letting out that relieved sigh. “When I keep waking up too late to do more than shower and toss on these clothes. Funny, my students appear much less threatened by my attire, so I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
Together, the females walked out of the building and down the steps while Jackie told Irene about how Paul had accidentally set the kitchen on fire.
“I swear, sometimes I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Jackie said again.
“He’s probably so wrapped up in your pussy, he can’t think straight.”
It took Irene a good minute to realize she walked alone.
Turning around, she found her friend sitting on the stairs. “What?”
“I was just wondering where my best friend went.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Making jokes is one thing, but using the word ‘pussy’ is something else. For you, anyway.”
“Oh. That. Well, ‘vagina’ seemed a tad clinical when discussing why your mate is currently so dysfunctional.”
Shaking her head, Jackie deftly got to her feet. “I didn’t see it coming.”
“Didn’t see what?”
Jackie walked down the remaining stairs. “I mean, I knew you’d fall for him. You two are so perfectly mismatched, how could you not fall for each other?” She stopped in front of Irene. “But I never thought he’d make you happy. Not like this anyway. And he does, doesn’t he, Irene? Make you happy?”
Irene shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess he does. He isn’t…uncomfortable with me. Even when he doesn’t understand a word I may have said, he never looks uncomfortable.” She gripped the straps to her backpack. “I have to say I’m enjoying that.”
Jack linked her arm with Irene’s. “Good. You deserve to be happy, sweetie. Now what about his Pack?”
“They look frightened and I have absolutely no idea why. I’m nothing but appropriately pleasant.”
When He Was Bad Page 12