Sleeping With the Wolf

by Maddy Barone

“Fine. Um, did I hurt you?”

  “No. Can I open my eyes now?”

  “Just a sec.” She forced her wet-noodle legs to hold her weight and pulled her jeans back up and fastened them. “Okay.”

  He looked hard at her face. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you like that?”

  Carla stared at his shoulder. The finger marks from where she had held onto him were fading. “Well, yeah. That’s the problem. I hardly know you, and I let you do that to me.”

  “I’m your mate,” he said simply. “There’s nothing wrong with what we did.”

  Carla supposed not. She had certainly enjoyed herself. They were married. Or the wolf Pack equivalent of married. Still, it felt wrong. The front of his sweatpants showed that he had not enjoyed himself quite as much as she had. Maybe she should…?

  “Nah,” said Taye, reading her mind, or at least the direction of her gaze. “I’m good. I can wait a while until you’re willing to go the whole distance. Shouldn’t be too long, I hope?”

  “You’re still hurt,” she pointed out shakily. “We’ll talk about it later. I have to wash my clothes, and I need a shower.”

  “The water will be ice cold,” Taye warned.

  “Good.”

  *

  When Carla had gotten off his knee and collected some of his clothes and retreated to the bathroom, Taye got up and went to the door of their room. As he expected, the hallway was full of young wolves sniffing the air appreciatively. Taye folded his arms over his bare chest and said mildly, “The Lupa wouldn’t like it if she knew we’d had an audience.”

  Sky and the other young wolves looked abashed.

  “And I don’t like it either,” Taye continued, still mild, but with a growl edging the words.

  Abashment turned to fear. The pups quickly exposed their throats.

  “Go to bed.”

  They scurried down the hall. Satisfied that his Pack still held him in proper awe, Taye went back into his room.

  Later that evening, after Carla had washed her clothes in the tub and hung them over the shower rail, she put on the longest of his T-shirts and smallest of his cut-off shorts and crawled into bed. She fell asleep quickly in spite of the long nap they had taken earlier. He went into the bathroom and examined the clothing hanging on the rail. He recognized the blouse, jeans, and socks, but the other two items were strange. They looked flimsy. The fabric was bright pink, soft and slippery, edged with lace. These then, must be her pantie. He had petted them tonight while caressing his mate. Their shape allowed him to guess how she would wear them. He hoped that someday soon she would model them for him. He liked the idea of her wearing them and nothing else while he … Already aching with longing, he cut that mental image off. His shower was ice cold but didn’t force his erection to retreat. He used his own hand in a brisk business-like manner to ease himself. To imagine it was Carla’s hand would be like cheating.

  After he dried off, he put his shorts on and got into bed with his mate. He was healing fast, but not quickly enough. He lay on his side, his chest pressed against her back. Under the covers her thighs were mostly bare. He allowed his fingertips to stroke up and down the warm flesh on the outside of her thigh from her knee to the edge of the shorts. She was so soft. And she smelled so good, even with the sharp odor of soap overlaying her natural scent.

  And, best of all, she had promised that someday she would lie here without his shorts in the way of his hands. Taye drifted to sleep wondering how soon someday would come.

  Chapter Six

  The room was cold when Carla woke. She should get up and put some wood in the stove, but it was so cozy in bed. Taye was a solid warmth beside her, and she turned to peer down at him. He was lying on his back with one arm thrown up over his head and the other resting on her thigh. The room was just light enough for her to see the column of his throat leading to his broad shoulders and muscled chest. The blankets were pushed down below his pecs, and she had to admit he had a fine physique. How had she ended up with such a handsome man? She had known other buff, handsome men, like those dancers in her video, but Taye was different. He was … hers. She was reaching a tentative hand toward his chest when he made a sound. She jerked her hand back and shot her eyes to his face. He was smiling at her like a naughty boy.

  “Feel free to pet me,” he invited.

  “I better add some wood to the stove,” she squeaked, throwing back the covers. Memories of what his hands had done to her last night flooded her face with crimson.

  His hand squeezed her thigh. “Carla, don’t leave me. Please touch me.” He folded his arms and tucked his hands under his head. His biceps bulged in that position, drawing her eyes to them. “Anywhere. I won’t touch back, I promise. Not right now, anyway.”

  She hesitated before pulling the covers back over herself. He had kept his promise not to look at her last night and had given her an orgasm without asking for one in return. She had barely touched him last night, and she’d wanted to. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “My back and my leg are good. My stomach is better, but not well enough for more than petting. I don’t expect to be able to make love to you this morning. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. So pet me, sweetheart, please.”

  Making love with Taye was inevitable. Last night she had decided she could bear it, and he had taught her that he could make her body respond. “Okay…” Carla hadn’t felt this kind of guilty excitement since she was in high school and Derek had talked her into the back of his pickup after the homecoming game. Which was stupid. She was a grown woman of twenty-five, and Taye was her husband. Mate. Whatever. She barely grazed his cheek with her fingertips, and then trailed them down his throat to his collarbone and over the hard curve of muscle to his nipple. He made a sound like a cat purring. She jerked her hand away, staring wide-eyed at his face.

  “No, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Don’t stop now.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Your skin is so warm,” she murmured, laying both hands over his pecs and caressing lightly. Her hair fell to slither over his chest. She quickly moved to scoop it back, but he smiled and shook his head.

  “I love your hair. Can I comb it for you?”

  “Maybe another time,” she whispered, putting it firmly behind her ear again. His shoulders were muscular, his biceps bulging, his chest like a living sculpture that responded to every touch. She slid her caress to the edge of the blanket and back up, scraping her nails lightly over his nipples, and enjoyed having all that powerful muscle jump under her hands. Since he seemed to react to that, she bent and touched the very tip of her tongue to his tight little nipple, and smiled at the ragged noise he made. She licked a path over his chest to his throat and under his ear and paused there to nibble his earlobe.

  “I like that,” he told her huskily with a feral smile that made her blood run faster because it made him look so dangerous. And yet, under her hands he was tamed. Maybe. With a single powerful twist he put her on her back and wedged his groin between her thighs.

  He took her left hand in his to examine her fingertips. “Calluses,” he noted thoughtfully. “Only here.”

  “From playing the guitar,” she told him, smoothing her other hand over his chest, teasing him with her fingers.

  Taye held her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. He pressed the inside of her wrist to his nose and inhaled like a connoisseur testing the bouquet of a fine wine. “You smell divine. Let me taste.”

  He licked her palm and then sucked her middle finger into his mouth. Heat bloomed in Carla, and she felt her brain turn to Jell-O as she pushed her hips up against him. He groaned. “Oh!” She breathed raggedly. “Fire!” She jerked her hand away from him. “Gotta put the fire out … I mean, put wood on the fire!” She squirmed out from under him, fell out of bed in a sprawl of flailing limbs, and scrambled up to lunge for the small woodpile under the window. She blindly tossed some in to the stove and fled to the bathroom. “Gotta get dressed now!�
�� she called toward the bed. Dimly, she was aware she was behaving like a fool, but she had to get away. Taye was just too tempting. If she had stayed she would have had his shorts off him and ravished his beautiful body. “Breakfast! Get up, it’s time for breakfast!”

  *

  Taye lay back on the bed and clamped Carla’s pillow over his face to smother his laughter. Here he was, the twenty-four-year-old Alpha of a wolf pack, giggling like a little boy all because he was able to rattle his normally calm, cool mate. But he couldn’t help it. Carla without her glacial disdain was adorable. And the laughter barely pulled at his lower belly. Maybe tonight he would be able to consummate his mating. He lifted the blanket and sighed at the peak rising in the front of his cut-off sweatpants. His spirit was willing and his flesh looked pretty strong too. He put Carla’s pillow aside and got up and smoothed the blankets back into place. Then he went to the stove and put the fire to rights. He stood by the table, waiting for his mate to come back out, and while he waited he planned exactly, to the smallest detail, what he would do to his mate tonight.

  Carla kept a prim distance from Taye on the way to breakfast, and since he was trying to get his body to cool down he allowed it. She was back to being coolly disdainful. He refused even to think of how he could wrap her hair around his wrist to drag her closer and melt the disdain. That was for later.

  That morning’s breakfast was the best meal he’d had with his mate. Supper the first night had been tense with his lust and her fear. Breakfast yesterday had been tense with his pain and her anxiety. Supper last night had been better for both of them, but not this almost relaxed near flirting. He would make some teasing comment, and she would pause, then fire some cold retort back that made him want to laugh. He would casually brush her fingers with his, and she would sometimes clench her hand into a fist and snatch it back with a glare, and sometimes she would blush a little and peek at him through her lashes. Tease, he wanted to say, but she might go back to being Glacier Carla, so he didn’t. He wanted Volcano Carla tonight. His plan included ways to thaw her out, and he hoped she made him work for it. That would be fun.

  They sat at the head table alone since Des was still out with the scouts looking for the crash survivors. He would have to name a second beta soon to take Pete’s place. He would discuss it with Des when he got back. And Carla should be involved. She was the Alpha Female, and in his absence she would rule the Pack, if she was able to stand against trouble. He remembered her pointy-toed boot self-defense and grinned. Yes, she could hold her own.

  He called some of the men he would consider for beta to the table and introduced them to Carla. Taye could see Carla steeling herself against cringing when they leaned close to touch her hair and inhale her scent. She didn’t understand that they were Pack and that they all needed touch and scent to bond. He told the story of the attempted woman-stealing and how she had single-handedly defended herself with no weapon but her boots. He told it casually, with an amused smile, but he made sure they all knew how proud he was of his mate. They had heard the story before, probably from Jay, but they laughed boastfully and congratulated themselves for having such a fierce Lupa. It pleased Taye that they accepted her as a packmate. Carla was careful to look only at their faces, pretending their strong bare bodies didn’t exist. Taye inwardly shook his head. She would get used to it eventually. Today was the last time he would wear clothes inside the den.

  After breakfast he kissed his mate and said he was going out to do a little training. He liked the way her face pinched with worry and her eyes went to the mostly healed gouge in his belly. “Yes, I’ll be careful,” he teased, kissing her again. He stripped off his cutoffs and handed them to her. “Put these in our room.”

  She was still gaping at him when he went outside and called his wolf.

  *

  Carla blinked at that very fine backside before it grew furry and turned into a wolf’s behind. Good lord. She carefully folded the sweatpants before turning around and marching back to their room. She passed several men, all of whom called cheerful greetings to her. She nodded back.

  Now what she supposed to do? Clean? The room was practically spotless. Laundry? Her clothes were as clean as a scrub in cold water in a bathtub could make them. She was going to spend the rest of her life here, doing what exactly? Being married to Taye wouldn’t be too bad. He got a little bossy sometimes, but that probably went with being in charge. But what was she supposed to do? She was used to being busy. Becoming a country music star had been her goal for several years. She had worked hard for that career. Now what was she? A housewife? Not that she had anything against housewives. But she felt useless. What was she supposed to do? She could still write music in her head, but who would ever hear it? Sex with Taye wouldn’t be a burden, but that wouldn’t keep her busy during the day.

  She sat down at the table and remembered this morning in bed with Taye. They had actually done very little, not even kissing. A little petting, that’s all. But he’d had her all hot and bothered in about fifteen seconds. And they hadn’t even kissed! She liked the last time he’d kissed her, and how his fingers had moved inside her…

  She cut off that line of thought and got her notebook out to work on “Sleeping With the Wolf” and was soon buried in songwriting.

  It was hours later that she heard voices calling, saying something about the Alpha’s order to get dressed. Dressed? The wolves were going to put clothes on? Her tummy rumbled, and she glanced at her watch to see how long she had been in here. 11:30? Was the battery still working or had it died last night at 11:30? The door opened and Taye strolled in, naked.

  “Sweetheart, where are my pants? We have company.”

  She pointed at the dresser without looking lower than his chin until he had pulled on his shorts. Then she let her eyes roam. “You’re hurt!” she accused, reaching for the scratches scoring his brown skin from the base of his throat to the bottom of his breastbone.

  “Nah,” he said, scooping an arm around her shoulders. “Just a surface scratch. It’ll heal up before supper. But if you’d like to kiss it better…”

  She snorted.

  He grinned. “That’s what I thought. Come on to the rec room. We have visitors I want you to meet.”

  Carla went readily enough. She wondered how rare visitors were. They must not be the wolf kin from the tribe on the plains or clothing would not be required. It looked like the rec room was overflowing with bare-chested men wearing only shorts or pants. There was a happy party atmosphere in the room as the wolves laughed and talked together. Taye led her through them, and the men made an open path to the table by the large fireplace. Two men stood there, one tall and thin and very old, and the other tall and thin and young. Carla blinked because it seemed strange that they were fully dressed. The younger man looked familiar.

  “Carla,” Taye said. “This is Mr. Gray and his grandson, Doug Gray.”

  Carla froze for a minute, remembering Doug Gray from the Bride Fight. He had been one of the final four, and she remembered thinking he wouldn’t be so bad as a husband. She smiled and reached to the older man to shake hands. Taye growled. The old man smiled and stepped back behind the table as Carla turned to Taye in surprise. Before she could ask what he thought he was doing, he pushed her behind him and growled again. Other wolves stepped up to flank Taye and block her in. The party atmosphere was gone, smothered by the threat of violence.

  “Hey!” she said loudly.

  She pushed the wolves aside, and she knew she could do it only because they let her. But she stepped up alongside Taye again and put her arm around his waist. He was vibrating with aggression. Good grief. She put her other arm around him, so she was hugging him and standing sideways to the visitors. She pretended that was normal and nodded politely to them.

  “I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Gray, and—” She hesitated very briefly, thinking Taye might not like it if she called the younger man by his first name. “—Mr. Gray.”

  “Likewise, Mrs. Wolfe,�
�� said the older man pleasantly, calmly, as if a wolf in human skin wasn’t ready to tear out his throat. “Word came to us that your husband was looking for a trade item. If you’ll excuse me…” He bent over to pull something out from under the table. The younger man also bent to help his grandfather.

  Carla took that opportunity to pinch Taye. “Behave,” she hissed.

  “Do not ever touch another man,” he hissed back.

  She restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “Fine.”

  “You’re mine.”

  “I know that.” But they were going to have a talk. She scowled to let him know that.

  Some of his aggression seeped away. The other wolves also relaxed. It wasn’t quite back to the party mood, but the threat of violence was gone. Honestly, what did Taye think she was going to do? Run away from him to be the love slave of a man old enough to be her grandfather? It would—maybe—be more understandable if she had tried to shake the younger man’s hand. He had tried to win her in the Bride Fight, and he would be considered very good-looking anywhere except in a room full of virile wolves.

  Taye smoothed a hand over her hair. “You can let me go now,” he whispered. “I’ve decided not to attack.”

  Carla wasn’t sure if he were joking or not. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You better not,” she said very quietly in his ear, “or I swear, you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

  A couple of the wolves coughed to cover laughter. She turned her head to glare at them, too. They ducked their heads to hide their grins. “What?” she snapped at them.

  They all tilted their heads back to show their throats. She sighed and dropped one arm from Taye’s waist.

  The two visitors were moving slowly and deliberately as they lifted cases from the floor to put them on the table. Black, oddly shaped … Guitar cases! Carla’s heart bounded, suddenly longing profoundly for a guitar to play. She glanced up at Taye and he was smiling at her.

  The older Mr. Gray opened the first case, and the younger Mr. Gray opened the second. “Both of these guitars are from the Times Before,” said the elder, “and each is in good condition. Would you like to try them, Mrs. Wolfe, before choosing which you would like?”