by Celia Kyle
Hawkins couldn’t deny the truth. He hated it, but couldn’t refute it. “And you think I’m great mate material? Over forty, graying, parts of me pop and creak when I get out of bed in the morning and oh, I got my last Warden partner killed. I’m perfect for her. Perfect for both of you. I’m surprised I don’t have other Wardens killing you so they can take your place and claim Paisley.”
Like an idiot, he hadn’t seen the punch coming. The only saving grace was that it was a closed fist and not a claw to the face. The hit rocked him back, sending his head snapping to the side as he stumbled.
“Fucker.” Coppery flavors filled his mouth and he spat the offending liquid on the ground and then wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“Bring it, old man.” Chance gestured for him to come forward.
Hawkins knew the younger man was goading him into a fight, knew what Chance was after, and rather than walk away, he leapt in head first. He ran at Chance, bending and digging his shoulder into his partner’s stomach and sending him tripping backwards.
The other wolf caught his balance and then swung at Hawk again, this fist aimed at his jaw while a follow up was heading toward his side. Hawkins retaliated, blocking and returning each strike with one of his own. They were evenly matched despite the differences in their ages and sizes.
Hawkins’ wolf remained a passive partner, the animal believing he deserved whatever Chance dished out. His magic felt the same. Nice way to be abandoned.
Chance came after him again, the next punch cracking him in the jaw while the follow up did a nice job on his eye. Barely a second passed and it was already swelling and blurring his vision. No. Wait. That was the blood from a new cut causing him problems.
He shook his head, clearing away some of the cobwebs caused by Chance’s attack, and grinned at his partner. That last punch annoyed his wolf enough that it decided to play this game. He didn’t bust out with fur and claws, but he did take the extra bit of strength the wolf gave him.
Hawk cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, ready to dive in. He gave his partner an evil grin, one that promised a good dose of pain. Hadn’t Chance caused him enough today? He’d pushed and prodded and dug at old wounds better left alone.
Yeah, this would be fun.
He flicked his fingers in a “come here” motion and waited for Chance. It didn’t take long for the young wolf to rush forward, to bolt toward him with his arm cocked back and fist raised. Hawkins was ready to defend himself and give a little of his own back.
Three feet… Two feet… One foot and…
The punch sent Hawkins reeling. He flew through the air, feet leaving the plush grass and he wasn’t sure how far he traveled before he collided with the earth. Hell, he hadn’t been rocked like that since he was a pup. He remained on the ground, focus spinning, and he shook his head to clear the halos that surrounded him. Damn, that’d been a hard one.
Those halos didn’t disappear. Nope, they seemed to brighten, actually. Hell, they glowed white just like… Like…
Hawkins closed his eyes and pretended the world didn’t exist. Because if it did, he’d have to face the fact that one of his own men caught him fighting with Chance and took them both out.
With a groan, he got his hands beneath him and levered himself to a seated position, ready to see who the hell handed him his ass.
Except it wasn’t that wolf, Tor, who Gabby still called “Hello Sexy.” Nor was it Callum, who’d quickly gone from an unsure Warden who organized the Gathering to a wolf to be reckoned with under Hawkins’ tutelage. It wasn’t Bentley or Asher or Elliott, either.
Nope, standing between him and Chance—arms upraised as she held them captive with her power—was one woman: Paisley.
And she was pissed.
Chapter Six
How did Chance end up in such a cluster fuck of a partnership and mating?
Oh. Right. His fucking fuck-of-a-fuck magic decided Hawkins was his match. Then that same magic and his wolf latched onto Paisley. Then again, with her power swirling around her like a bright fog, he couldn’t imagine her being with anyone else.
Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word to describe her at that moment.
Gorgeous didn’t come close.
Furious though. That one hit the nail on the head.
Paisley continued to glare at them, her anger shifting from Chance to Hawkins and back again. Alright, he might have earned some of that fury. He had thrown the first punch. But Hawkins deserved it and he’d explain that just as soon as she let him up.
“What was that?” Her voice deadly quiet, the glow surrounding him flaring for a brief moment before settling once again. Chance opened his mouth to reply, but she raised her hand and he swallowed his words. “You know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters,” she waved to encompass their trio. “If you two can’t get along with each other, how are we supposed to mate? You can’t get over whatever it is that stands between you. Will I just be another wedge? You two,” she shook her head. “I know how important it is to share everything with your partner and you guys aren’t even mentally connected. Now you want to draw me into this ball of bullshit. Thanks, but I’ll take a pass.”
Those words were like a spear in his heart and he clutched his chest, trying to breathe past the pain.
As the distance between them increased, her restraints weakened. By the time she was halfway to the house, he was able to burst free and jump to his feet. He ignored the pain caused by her words and rushed after her. Hawkins was on his own. The man didn’t want to have a partner? Didn’t want a mate? Fine. He could be alone. Chance’s wolf howled and cried for Paisley and he refused to let her go. No one thought Wardens could have mates. Maybe they were wrong about a Warden Born only mating to a Warden Pair. Maybe it’d be okay with just him and Paisley. Maybe…
The space between them continued to lessen, her angry strides nothing compared to his run. She stomped through the grass, that ethereal cloud hovering over the ground and surrounding her. She looked as if she floated over the lawn. If not for the resounding thuds of her feet colliding with the earth, he could imagine her gliding toward the castle.
Her snarling words reached him before he got a hand on her.
“Assholes… mates… fuck that noise… neuter the dicks…”
Chance winced at the last one and his balls drew up as if trying to hide.
“Paisley? Paisley, wait.” She glanced over her shoulder and shot him an angry glare. A painfully angry glare. Literally her magic stabbed at him.
He wasn’t gonna be put off by a little stinging nudge. “Let me explain.”
She didn’t slow. Nope, if anything, she increased her pace, but it wasn’t enough to escape him. It took another two steps to come even with his raging mate. He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he let the quiet envelope them as they returned to the house.
They could fight, he’d take every one of her screams, but they’d do it within their suite. He didn’t need her family coming to the rescue nor did he need any of the males in the compound glaring at him as she flung her words at him.
Instead of heading toward the back doors, she headed toward an open window. Their open window. Well, his mate apparently liked to save time.
“Paisley? We can go through the doors…”
She kept moving forward. Apparently they’d be going through the window. “It’s a damn maze in there.”
When she got to the bushes, she wiggled through the line of greenery and it was then he noted the scrapes that marred her thighs. He also noticed her flinch and grimace as she eased past them. The scent of her blood reached him and his wolf snarled and nipped at him. Hell, his magic joined the game as well and scraped his flesh with its anger.
Chance was right behind her, pushing the drapes aside as she climbed inside. She glared at him more, but he ignored her expression. He’d take her anger to keep her safe. Even if he hadn’t done a very good job so far.
That’d change. Now.
Paisley darted away the second she was in the suite, but he didn’t hesitate to dive after her. He bolted across the room and blocked her path, not allowing her to escape him so easily.
“Just wait a second,” he begged.
Tears clung to her lashes. How many times had they brought her to tears? It’d been less than a day and had they made her smile? At all? Just once?
No. He didn’t think so and he cursed himself even more.
“I… I… I…” Her voice was hoarse, the single syllables hardly more than a croaked whisper.
Something inside Chance snapped. Something that told him to fuck everyone else’s rules and just do what needed to be done. So he reached for her. He snared her hand, ignoring everyone’s dictates and Paisley’s wide eyes, and yanked her close. She squeaked when he tugged, but didn’t fight him. No, in fact, she melted against his body, those curves molding to his hard muscles.
A blanket of calm slid over him, brushing away the raw edges of his anger and leaving nothing but his feelings for Paisley. Feelings that were growing and burrowing deeper with each passing second.
Her skin was flush and warm beneath his hands and he caressed her back. He traced her spine, memorizing each dip and curve. Her arms were smooth and heated and her magic encased his hands as he stroked her. He didn’t miss her shiver nor the barest hint of her arousal as it drifted to him on the gentle breeze from the open window.
That scent warred with her continued anger and confusion. Her hurt rose above it all, her emotional pain stinging his nose and his wolf reminded him he was an asshole.
Well, the bastard was right.
The thing reminded him it often was.
Paisley struggled against him for a moment, a whimper of distress reaching him. He was quick to place a finger beneath her chin and encourage her to meet his gaze.
“Does this hurt you?” He didn’t want her physically harmed. Not after they’d already done so much emotional damage.
“No, but we shouldn’t be…”
“Hush. They don’t know everything. If I’m not hurting you, then I’d like to hold you. We’ve fucked up, sweetheart. Lemme make it better,” he murmured.
“Chance, I don’t know if you can. He—”
“Doesn’t matter. My relationship, my mating is with you. Yes, it’s supposed to be the three of us together, but until he figures things out for himself, I’m going to get to know you. Maybe steal a kiss or two. I’ll definitely try to convince you that I’ll be a good mate to you.” He lifted his hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I will, you know. I can’t speak for Hawkins. If he ever gets his head on straight, you two can be happy, but when all is said and done… He’s my partner, but you’re my mate, Paisley. I don’t want to let you go.”
A single tear slid down her cheek and he caught it with his thumb, brushing it away.
“Is that a happy tear? Or a sad tear?” he murmured.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Well, you tell me when you know.”
Paisley nodded, a rueful grin on her lips.
Chance couldn’t tear his gaze from hers, his focus entirely on the woman he’d spend the rest of his life with. Everything inside him urged him to brush his lips across hers, to take a small taste. He slowly lowered his head, bringing their faces closer together. He kept his eyes open, watching for any objection, for any hint of fear or unease. When their lips hovered mere millimeters apart and still she didn’t shove him away, he let his lids lower.
He began with a gentle brush of his mouth against hers, breathing deeply, drawing in more of her delicious scent. Sweetness. Pure, unadulterated sweetness mixed with the crisp scents of the forest invaded his senses.
On the next pass, he let himself linger over her lips, enjoying the tender pressure. The third sweep had him opening his mouth and tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. He drew in her natural taste, savoring the flavors that were inherently Paisley. Delicious and smoky sweet, he swallowed each drop he found.
She pressed closer to him, easing her weight further against his body and he relished the way she shifted and squirmed. He let his tongue delve deeper, sinking inside her and taking a slow sample of what she offered.
With that deeper connection his cock hardened, stiffening in his jeans and she rocked her hips, teasing him further. He wanted her. Wanted to own her, possess her, and he definitely wanted to belong to her. He was hers just as she was his.
A thought poked him in the back of his mind, the single brush reminding him that she wasn’t just Chance’s. She was Hawkins’ as well. Even if the bastard didn’t deserve her.
Tossing that fact away, he devoted himself to their kiss. He cataloged the way her body felt when pressed to his, the musky scent of her arousal, and the way she gave him her trust. It was the trust he relished above all else. Opening herself to him this way showed that even if she didn’t know him well, some part of her believed he wouldn’t harm her.
A low whimper had him sinking into her further, fighting to snatch everything she offered him so he could enjoy the memories when she realized she could do so much better than him. He knew he wasn’t a prize, but…
But God how he wanted her.
Paisley’s nipples were hard little pebbles pressed against his chest and another wave of her arousal slid over him, spurring his own. Damn, his cock was about to burst from his jeans and her wriggling wasn’t helping matters. But when she rolled her hips and released a needy moan, he decided he’d take the torture if it meant the actions pleasured his mate.
Chance wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back and then letting his palms rest on the top curve of her ass. The plump mounds tempting him to cup and knead her flesh. But he resisted the desires, pulling his need back under control. She’d allowed a kiss, not a mauling. Because he knew stroking her ass would lead to grabbing her thighs and encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Then that would lead to delicious friction and eventually the two of them writhing naked on his bed.
No. He couldn’t do that. At least, not yet.
He gradually eased their passionate kiss, transforming the deep search for more of her to a gentle tracing of his tongue along hers. Then it became a simple press of lips against lips and finally he pressed his forehead to hers. Their mouths were still dangerously close, but no longer touched. Instead, they shared breath, him drawing in her scents and letting them creep into his very soul. He wanted to be branded by her, filled with her until everyone knew he belonged to her despite the lack of bite marks.
Hers. Hers. Hers.
“Paisley.” Her name rolled off his tongue, the syllables so soft and sweet. He just needed to say it for no other reason than to hear it spoken aloud.
“Chance, I…”
When she said his, he shuddered, his cock shoving against his jeans even harder than before. He wanted her to scream for him as he possessed her over and over again.
But right now, he didn’t want to hear her tell him no. Hear her say it was a mistake or that it couldn’t happen again. No, he wanted to cradle this snippet of happiness for a little while. She could push him away later.
“Hush. Don’t say anything. Lemme hold you and then… Then you can do whatever you want, but please give me this.” He whispered his plea, unwilling to break the gentle quiet of the room. “Just for a minute.”
Chance wished the minute could last forever.
Chapter Seven
Paisley pretty much ignored everyone. All of them. All the people in the suite she shared with Hawkins and Chance were now muted. She wished she had a remote control so she could make that a reality. Instead, she retreated into herself as they all bickered and snarled.
Whitney ranted while Scarlet and Gabby added their comments. Then there was Rebecca and Lorelei. And everyone’s mates had to be there. Fifteen extra people all adding their two cents. Dear God, they were gonna drive her to drink and she didn’t even like alcohol. Not even those fruity ones that everyone ass
ured her didn’t taste like rum or vodka or whatever the hell was in them.
Whitney’s voice rose above the others “What did I tell you? I told you to wait. I told you to…”
Yes, yes, yes. Whitney said a lot of things. None of them were worth a damn since the cow had already left the barn or however that saying went. It was done and over with. She’d touched Chance, had even kissed him, and she wouldn’t take it back.
The longer they harped on her, the more frustrated she became. She didn’t ask for any of this, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. She was Chance and Hawkins’ mate. She was Warden Born. She was… somewhere in the U.S., and there were no take backs.
Anger slowly slithered down her body, snaking through her veins and plucking her raw nerves. Their presence turned something beautiful into something… bad or tainted. The glow that’d filled her as the kiss with Chance ended had been driven away by their words.
To her left, Chance ran his hand up and down her thigh, ignoring Whitney’s rules and keeping them apart. Hawkins stood behind them, his humming presence easing her tension even if she was pissed at him. She’d deal with that portion of her anger later. Like after she got rid of her well-meaning family.
“Enough,” she whispered, but no one heard her. She took a slow, calming breath, but it didn’t do anything to soothe her. No, it merely filled her with more of Chance’s scent along with Hawkins’ innate flavors. “I said, enough.”
Still, they continued and her magic whipped at her, now annoyed on her behalf. It wanted to be alone with Chance and Hawkins and everyone else’s feelings could take a hike.
“I said,” her power shoved forward, ramming at her skin and lighting her marks until they shined brightly. “Enough!”
That single word boomed through the room, shaking the frames on the walls. Her family froze in place, all yelling ceasing as a hint of fear filled their expressions. They were afraid of her. Nice. Just what she wanted. Not.