by Tasha Black
As soon as she opened one he was inside.
“Bianca,” he growled at her, his golden eyes ablaze.
She gaped at him.
“You were attacked,” he accused her.
“Uh—”
“You were alone, after dark. How dare you put yourself in danger when someone is after you?” he demanded.
Bianca had no answer. She’d thought the break-in was a coincidence, or a random crime. She hadn’t taken it personally, why did everyone think that she should?
There were footsteps in the hall as the others joined her.
“What’s going on?” Addison asked.
“Ian,” Dr. Flavia said in surprise.
He kept his burning eyes on hers for a long moment, then at last he acknowledged the others.
“Elena,” he nodded to Dr. Flavia.
Bianca swore she could hear his heart pounding, though of course that was a ridiculous thought - no one could hear another person’s heart from across the room.
“Why are you all back here?” Ian asked, through a clenched jaw.
“We’re updating the locks and setting up the girls with new keys, since the prowler took Bianca’s,” Dr. Flavia replied.
“Bianca’s finished for the night, I’m taking her home,” Ian announced, grabbing Bianca by the hand.
“But I don’t have my key yet,” she complained, knowing that wasn’t the right argument but somehow unable to think straight with his warm hand wrapped around hers.
“Here, take this one,” Dr. Flavia advised, handing her a shiny new key.
“You don’t have to go with him,” Addison said, her soft voice firm.
Ian opened his mouth and closed it again.
“Your decision, Bianca,” he said at last. “But I’m going where you go. I’m keeping you safe.”
The protective note in his voice resonated in her heart. And he sounded less angry now.
“I’ll go with you,” she heard herself reply. “Thanks.”
He smiled, the relief on his face evident. Her heart skipped a beat.
As they turned and headed for the door, Mei winked at her and Addison made a “call me” gesture.
Bianca nodded to both of them and allowed Ian to lead her through the doors and out into the night.
Chapter 12
Ian drove as slowly as he could, which was still going to get them where they were going much faster than he wanted.
He wanted time to calm himself, to soothe the anger in his blood before he brought her home.
Ian might be the shifter, but Bianca was the wild and unpredictable one. He planned to gentle her.
But he couldn’t domesticate the little minx unless he got hold of himself first.
He forced himself to loosen his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, so he could run a hand through his hair.
It would be easier if his libido weren’t being tested at the same time as his temper.
Her scent filled the car - he could practically taste her.
The wolf was so close to the surface, growling and snapping in a frenzy of protective and mating instincts - each ramping up the other, as if they were playing a game of Russian roulette with Ian’s sanity.
“Where are we going?” she demanded suddenly, bringing his attention back.
“Home,” he replied.
“Whose home?”
“Mine.”
“I didn’t agree to that,” she said.
He pulled over to the side of the road, seeing red.
“I said I was going to take you home,” he said, enunciating each syllable.
“Yeah, my home,” she said, blinking up at him in a sullen way, not a bit cowed by his alpha fury.
“You think I’m taking you back to an apartment that got ransacked last night, after you were just assaulted, again?” he asked, incredulous.
She shrugged, then looked pointedly out the window.
“I can take care of myself,” she said after a moment, still not looking at him.
Her bravado was somehow endearing, and he managed to feel momentary sympathy.
“Bianca, I’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself. I’m just saying I want to help you.”
She turned back to him.
Her expression was contrite.
His wolf strutted in his chest.
“Okay. But I’m not sleeping with you,” she said.
The wolf froze in horror.
Why not? Ian wanted to whine. But he held himself together.
“Fine. You don’t have to sleep with me,” he said. “But don’t pretend you don’t want to.”
He gave her the careless half smile that always sent his junior girls in third period into cardiac arrest.
Bianca colored and looked away, proving his words.
“Why do you think you have to take care of me?” she asked, petulant again.
“What if he’d had a weapon, Bianca?” Ian shot back. “What if something happened to you?”
“What does it matter to you?” she asked.
That was when he snapped.
Suddenly, he was holding her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers, tangling his fingers in her golden hair. She wouldn’t listen to reason, but maybe he could make her understand this way.
She was still for a moment, then she was kissing him back as if her life depended on it, her body seeming to melt into his.
The flash of lights from another car passing them pulled him back to reality.
He cursed silently to himself as he pulled out of her embrace.
“Let’s get you home,” he said softly.
She didn’t argue as he pulled the car back onto the street. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
When they pulled up in front of his house, Ian couldn’t help sneaking a glance over at Bianca to see what she thought.
He had to admit to being a little house-proud. The Arts & Crafts bungalow was one he’d passed many times on his way between the school and his old apartment when he first moved to town.
Granted, it hadn’t exactly looked like this back then.
When Ian had first spotted the place, the lot had been overgrown to the point that the house appeared to be shivering under a coat of ivy and moss, peeking out from between the scrappy saplings to ask for help. The brick walkway had been shot through with tall grass and the building itself was shedding weather-whitened cedar shingles like scabs falling off after the chicken pox.
But the porch had called to him, its sturdy columns wrapping around under the three triangles of the roof. It whispered promises to him that involved a swing and a certain curvy blonde, pitchers of lemonade, children with picture books, family portraits on the front steps, and growing old and sipping hot tea and looking out into the neighborhood.
The day after he’d whispered into Bianca’s hair, he’d finally gotten the nerve to go knock on the door.
There was nothing else to do but pretend to have a broken leg until she graduated. He didn’t trust himself to go back without going mad with desire.
An elderly man had come to the door. They’d had a beer and a conversation. The man told him to come back the next day.
A week later the papers were signed and Ian spent the rest of that year and the years that followed working on the house.
He was a young strong man. He needed physical exertion and plenty of it, to keep himself from tracking down his mate and claiming her before she was ready.
So he had yanked out saplings, ground and dug out rotted stumps, pulled the brick walkway and reset it.
He’d ripped up the boards of the porch and put in mahogany decking, replaced plenty of cedar shingles and painted all of them a moss green with bright white trim and a red door.
Inside he’d removed an ocean of shag carpet and textured wallpaper, drop ceilings and plastic chandeliers. Then he’d refinished the pine floors until they shone like copper, prepped and painted the plaster walls, and stripped the built-ins and moldings to show off the original chestnut. When h
is teacher salary allowed, he bought authentic period fixtures at auction and restored them himself.
The whole time, he’d fantasized about showing it to her. He’d pictured a morning in late spring, after he’d taken her on two or three dates.
Why did she have to ruin everything by showing up at that Scenting Ceremony? Now they had rushed in and it seemed like maybe she regretted her decision.
“Is that your house?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
They got out of the car and she stood on the brick walkway and took it in.
“It’s beautiful,” she said at last. “It’s like something out of a book.”
He smiled, glad she was pleased, so glad. It was all for her. The physical embodiment of all he wanted for her, the patina of the time that had passed, his suffering for her made beautiful.
“Let’s go in,” he said, offering her his arm.
To his delight, she smiled and took it and they ascended the porch steps together.
“Oh,” she breathed, gazing at the wisteria turned bright yellow on the vines he had trained over the trelliswork to make a sort of screen across the side of the porch.
“In the spring there are purple flowers,” he told her.
She nodded and let the hand that wasn’t tucked into his arm caress the wooden porch swing so gently.
Ian swallowed the lump in his throat and opened the heavy wooden door.
He turned back to her.
“Will you do me a favor?” he asked.
“What is it?”
“Humor me,” he said, then without another word, he swept her up and carried her over the threshold.
Her laughter was like bells and he actually felt a bit lightheaded with joy.
He was holding her all to himself - not even the floor could touch her. He felt almost submerged in satisfaction.
When he set her down on her feet again there was nothing to do but kiss her.
Chapter 13
Bianca flowed into his arms again the second her feet hit the floor. She didn’t care about how she would feel tomorrow or next year. Something about this moment and this man, it was right, it was anointed.
His big hands were molding her to him.
That woodsy scent she’d thought hung on him before was suddenly stronger and more complicated, as if it had gained a new dimension.
Were her senses improving? Or was it just the emotion of the situation putting a superlative on everything - the most romantic kiss, the strongest chest, the warmest hands, the woodsiest scent?
When his tongue stroked hers with that same singular concentration he’d kissed her with the night before, she let go of her thoughts and soaked in the moment with him.
This was Ian Anderson, the man she’d yearned for ever since she could remember, the man she’d frantically coupled with on the forest floor, the man who turned into that magnificent silver wolf, and who always seemed to find her when there was real trouble, and try to protect her.
She slid her hands up his chest, fingers fiddling with the buttons. She needed to feel the heat of his skin against her.
He moved her hands away, still kissing her.
She slid her arms up around his neck and arched her back, pressing her breasts against his muscled chest. God, it felt good.
He groaned into her mouth and she felt his hands go around her ass and squeeze her to him.
His cock was already so hard she could practically feel every vein through their clothes.
She rubbed herself against him and he lifted her effortlessly up again.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her into the living room, where he lowered her to a soft wool rug.
Then he was at her neck, nuzzling and lapping at the place where he had bitten her before. Her skin tingled and she went soft under his touch, half expecting him to bite her again.
Instead, he leaned back and lifted her shirt over her head.
The cool air of the room invigorated her. She waited for him to remove her bra and treat her breasts to the attention he’d given them last time.
Instead, he slid a finger under the edge of one cup, slipping it down under her breast so that the bra pushed her nipple up toward him. He did the same with the other cup, leaving Bianca feeling more naughty than if he had merely removed the garment.
She arched up to him waiting for his kiss, but he was ignoring her stiff nipples to drag down the zipper of her jeans and then tug them to her ankles where he patiently removed shoes and jeans.
Bianca lay obediently on the rug, feeling a bit passive but mostly wanting to see what he would do next, if she allowed him free reign.
He did not leave her in suspense.
The next thing she knew, he was nuzzling from her ankles all the way up, past the ticklish spot on the inside of her knees, to her panties.
She held in a gasp as he nosed the thin fabric. She could feel his hot breath on her sex, and she felt herself swell and grow wetter for him.
He extended his tongue and licked a long, lazy swipe across the lace that separated them.
“Oh,” she sighed.
“Mm,” he hummed back to her, and then slowly licked her again.
“Ah,” she whimpered.
“Mm,” he praised her, licking again.
Bianca prayed for the strength not to thrust herself into his face, but her will power was fading quickly.
She felt him slide a long finger beneath the lace and felt the twin sensations of panic and relief. Would he help her? Or would he only tease her further?
He pressed his finger against her opening, pushing slowly all the way to his second knuckle.
Bianca could feel her body locking down on him, her hips quivered, yearning for friction.
He eased his finger out again, then sucked it into his mouth, moaning with satisfaction.
Jesus god, that was hot.
Before she could recover he was sinking his finger into her again, then ever so slowly pulling it out to taste her again.
Bianca could feel her clitoris swelling and stiffening against the lace of her panties.
He buried his finger in her and lovingly sucked it clean a third time, ignoring her clit completely as she whimpered and trembled under his touch.
When he made as if to do it again, she pressed her thighs together.
“No, no more, please,” she begged.
“What’s wrong, my love?” he asked innocently. But she could tell by the twinkle in his golden eyes that he knew exactly what he was doing.
She sat up.
“It’s just that I want to play, too,” she said sweetly.
A look of naked lust crossed his face before he could hide it.
“No, darling, you don’t have to do that,” he said.
But when she pushed him backward he complied immediately.
Bianca looked down at him, beside herself with the possibilities. He was like a buffet laid out before her, and she didn’t know where to begin.
He smiled up at her, as if to encourage her.
She leaned down to kiss that wonderful smile, and ran her fingers through his hair while she was at it, twisting and tugging until he gave her the ferocious kiss he’d been withholding from her.
When she’d had her fill, she worked her way down his jaw, to nuzzle his neck. Then she peeled his shirt up, allowing him to sit up and help her pull it over his head, and then she kissed her way down the wide planes of his chest, nuzzling the ridges of those endless abs on her way to his belt buckle.
She slid the leather slowly through the loops and again allowed him to help her remove the last of his clothing.
When he was lying before her again, she took a moment to enjoy him.
From his big puppyish feet, to his muscled legs, impressively massive organ, chiseled abs, wide chest and the burning golden eyes in the face that had taught her heart to beat, he was perfect.
Before he could stop her, she lay between his legs on her belly, her face at his hips and
drew a circle around the head of his iron hard penis with her tongue.
He hissed in a breath.
She smiled and did it again, glorying in his reaction.
Then she traced the vein on the outside of his cock, up, up, to the plushy head again, and she swirled it under her tongue.
“Oh, Bianca,” he sighed.
She wet her lips, grabbed him in her hand, and dragged the tip of him across her lips, snaking her tongue out to caress him lightly.
His hips quivered and she could feel his ass tighten with the repressed need to thrust into her mouth.
He managed to hold still though.
So she began to stroke him very lightly with her palm as she sucked just the tip of him into her mouth to lap and suckle.
“Oh, god, Bianca,” he whispered.
Slowly, she took more of him in, easing her hand lower and her mouth deeper.
“Oh, fuck,” he cursed.
She tasted a drop of salt against her tongue and lost her resolve to torment him.
Throwing caution to the wind, she sucked him in as deeply as she could, until she felt him crash against the back of her throat. Then she slid him in and out, sucking and lashing at him with her tongue, snaking one hand down to cradle and caress his balls as she did.
Her own response was nearly as intense as his. She felt herself swelling and getting so wet.
Then his cock was rigid in her mouth, and his hands were in her hair, pulling her off him bodily.
“Enough,” he whispered, “I need you.”
The words sent feverish shivers down her spine.
He rolled her onto her back and slid her panties off, lowering his face to lick her again.
“Ohhh,” she moaned brokenly, shamelessly jogging her hips up to meet his tongue.
But he stopped and flipped her over, pulling her hips up so that she was in the same position as last night.
Before she had time to prepare herself, she felt the tip of him against her opening, the feeling so exquisite she thought she would faint when he found his way all the way in.
She felt his hands grasp her hips, and then he was thrusting himself inside her.
“Oh, god, you feel so good, you feel so good,” he murmured.
Bianca felt the pleasure in her whole body, as if he were inside every cell of her.