“Hmm.”
“It would appear I’ve lost my biscuits.”
Ansel stole another peek at me and let out a deep belly laugh. “I can’t get you biscuits, but I know a little spot, makes the best breakfast burritos.”
“Yeah?” I perked up at that, which seemed to amuse him further. I was food motivated. Food is my damned love language. It was a deep failing in me I embraced wholeheartedly.
“You hungry, Roly?”
“Yes, Asshole,” I murmured dryly, wondering why I didn’t just resign myself to my Roly fate, sitting back in my seat, “starved.”
“Good.” He hooked a left. My face smacked the window at the sudden jerk of the wheel, my shoulder the door. Grunting, pushing off from the window, rubbing my cheek, I glared at him.
“Ow.” Snatching my hand from his thigh, I folded my arms across my chest. “You did that on purpose.”
“I might have.”
“You admit it then?”
“You’re tough. You can take it.”
“Asshole.”
“Talk pretty to me, baby.”
Realizing he was enjoying this too fucking much, literal fucking foreplay for him, I sputtered, “You just like winding me up, don’t you?!”
He didn’t bother denying it. “Wind you up and watch you go.” His grin was downright wicked as his eyes flushed with his wolf.
“Alright. Okay,” I murmured, fighting a smile. The man got under my skin, said and did the most outrageous things, and then melted me into a puddle of god damned goo. He was demented, a twisted little fucker. God, I loved it... I was putty in his hands, and feared he may be all too well aware of the fact. “Just remember you said that.”
A growl rumbled his chest at my cryptic words. The goose pimples cropping up along his arms gave his excitement at the thought away.
“Drive faster,” I mumbled suddenly, squirming in my seat.
Ansel sniffed, catching a hint of my scent, and hit the gas.
Chapter Twelve
I didn’t know what I’d expected when I thought of Ansel having a home of his own, but this wasn’t it. He resided on the other end of town, near the pack’s compound, and other than the great wilds surrounding us, that was about all that was out this way. I’d only ever been to the compound a handful of times as a kid and once as a teen. After refusing to join the pack’s ranks, taking on more of an honorary member’s position, my presence at the big house wasn’t required. The pack’s monthly meetings were usually held at the town hall. I literally had never had a need or reason to travel out this way as an adult, and had never actually been to Ansel’s digs.
“It’s nice,” I said in surprise as we pulled in to the small, circular dirt drive. It was a cozy looking, modest two story with an attached garage and gabled roof. I noted a stone chimney up one side, and soft blue, horizontal, vinyl siding, a cement front porch with wrought iron railings done up to look like rose vines were twined around the supports. The rose metal work struck me, something strangely familiar about it I just couldn’t put my finger on... and the house, its general shape and color scheme. The steps had that paint, sealer, whatever you put on cement to help protect it, a soft blue grey with flecks of white and dark blue glittering it. A front porch swing that went with the house sat to the left side of the porch, the wood painted white, a tall potted plant in a dark planter near the door, some kind of succulent, and farm house windows along the front of the first floor with white trim standing out against the siding’s blue, a tiny round window for the second floor. Stone accents trimmed the lower half of the house, the small window between the stones, vinyl siding to look like stones, I was guessing, surrounding a small rectangular window that hinted at a basement.
“You really like it?” he asked uncertainly. His sudden unease, nerves swamping him, and me through our bond, had me glancing up at him with a smile. He wanted, needed me to genuinely like it. This was super important to him. He was bouncing in place in his mind with nerves. He was adorable in his head. In person, he was scowling, his expression unreadable, stone still and so stiff he looked like he’d stopped breathing. My heart went pitter patter a little faster as I warmed.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Good.” He gave a short nod and his hand, gripping the steering wheel, relaxed.
“Was it always here?” I wondered aloud, studying the exterior, because I just couldn’t... that porch. Was I remembering this house, having seen it in passing, the few times we’d driven out this way, my parents and I, and that was it? The colors and style, where the hell had I seen that before?
“No. The first floor was still standing when I bought it, barely, but it looked a lot different then. Bought the land from the pack for a steal. Eldritch wants the surrounding lands to stay in pack hands. Built it kinda like that dollhouse you had when you were little. You know the one. You kept that thing for years. Scraped the bottom dragging it around until it wore thin. But I changed some shit. It’s yours.”
“I- Wow. I- Really?” Squinting, leaning forward in my seat, unbuckling my seatbelt to do so, I eyed the house. It did actually look kinda like the little travel dollhouse I used to lug everywhere. It was heavy, and I’d gotten into the habit of conning Mom and Dad to cart it around for me, and later the rowdy Gurgen boys next door. Until Fynn got mad at me and chucked it one day, that is, breaking the handle to carry it and cracking the hinge along the side. It just kept crumbling after that like Fynn’s fit of temper had been the last straw, until it’d suddenly disappeared one day and Mom claimed she had no idea where it could have gotten to. “Why?” I said as he waited for something from me.
“Hmm?” he murmured, cleaning up our eat-on-the-run breakfast feast trash.
“Why? You made it for me. Why? What if I’d never come around? What if... What if you just sat around wasting away waiting for me while I fucked around, my head up my ass, and I never got my shit together and you never sensed I was ‘ready’? What if I was, like, fifty or eighty or something when life finally knocked me one and I knocked it off?”
“There was no question to it. I knew you’d be mine one day. Did waiting for you suck? Definitely. But the hollowness was filled with knowing I had your spot reserved, my connection with you to hold me over, and while I may not always be, I could be patient, learned to, for you.”
“I do have one lingering question,” I murmured, as the thought hit me.
Ansel’s eyebrows drew up questioningly.
“You had an agreement with some of the pack ladies, I saw that, but the mate mixer... you had some of those same ladies actin’ like they were tryin’ to jump on your dick.”
Ansel threw his hands up at the emotions washing over me, matching my scowl, waving them, asking me to hold up a sec before I got upset. “They knew what was going on, Eldritch helped me approach them in the beginning to... work out an agreement. It was mutually beneficial. Dating a pack third can attract attention, or in some cases, deter it.”
“And they wanted to... thank you by hounding you?” My eyes were sliding wolf bright green. I was trying, really hard, not to wolf out and get pissy. But he needed to hurry up with the rest of the story already before I forgot I was trying.
Ansel stared out the windshield for a long moment, his hands rubbing the steering wheel, back and forth, rhythmically. “I helped them, and most knew I had a mate that wasn’t ready for me, so the expectation of anything more was off the table. They knew what was up from the get go. Unlike Rowdy, if I bought them dinner and we went to a movie, that’s all that was expected.”
“They offered more?”
“Wouldn’t matter if they wanted to, they knew I wouldn’t,” pointedly, he added, “couldn’t, and Eldritch, with the ladies agreement, did that mega Alpha in charge shit he does that willed them to not only keep to the agreed confidentiality but keep it civil. Some may have offered up things, but never touched me or tried to force any kind of physical anything on me. They couldn’t even if they’d wanted to. They could try, but they’d ultimate
ly get that mental snap back, like how you got a head fuck trying to punch into my mind last night.”
Eyeing his crotch, I lifted my head, raising my eyebrows. “Didn’t seem like it was working on them on the dance floor that night, pocket pooch.”
“I can still remember the day I bonded to you perfectly, did you know that?” he cut in. “You cut your finger on some craft monstrosity you were working on with Fynn. It was bleeding pretty badly. You were... seven,” his face scrunched thoughtfully, “just shy of eight? I went to walk you home, I was holding a kitchen towel on your hand, putting pressure on it. You were bawling your head off. You were perfectly fine, but I could smell it, that fear, it ate at me. You were terrified. My wolf was going crazy to help you, beating my insides raw.”
“Vaguely,” I mumbled, my stomach knotting worriedly. What the fuck did this have to do with the ladies vying for a ride on the Ansel Express?
“You broke down two steps down the sidewalk. You insisted the only thing that would fix it was to kiss it better.”
Mating involved a blood exchange. “Wait. You’re saying...”
He nodded, sending images of that day, until the memory was vivid, tinted in blue and green.
“I can’t believe you kissed my god damned bloody finger when I was in Elementary and your eleven or what the fuck ever year old ass bound yourself to me. Ansel, you knew what bonded mates to each other. How many times did we sit through lectures about hygiene and how important it was to be careful of such things from my germophobic dad?”
“They couldn’t take you away from me then. I felt safe, knowing I was secretly bound to you. I was bound to you before even then, so, really, to me, I was solidifying my claim. You stopped crying afterwards, and smiled as I wiped your face and carted you the rest of the way home.”
“That was really stupid,” I whispered. My face screwed up, mouth working. I was getting emotional, an ache building in my throat. “And then you just, what? Torture teased and heckled the Alpha side out of me, your strange encouragement, playing babysitter to my and Fynn’s immature asses? Then let me go, under pressure, and walked away?” I burst out, as moisture filled my eyes. Holy hells, what was wrong with me?! I knew all this, he’d already said as much, yet here I sat doing a wonderful impression of a boat that’d sprung a leak.
“I made my choice, but I knew, in my heart, I had to give you yours. And I didn’t give you up. Told you, I couldn’t be without you, or far from you, for long. Why do you think my patrols revolved around your comings and goings? You’re a horrible creature of habit. Why am I always at Mom and Dad’s when I have my own place? I may not have been at the forefront of your life, Emmy, but I was there, if in the background, on the peripherals. I knew one day I’d just know, and you’d notice me, realize I’d been standing here all along. Everything would just... click in to place. I had no doubt in my mind. I had to be patient. I- Look at us? Huh? Look where we are now.”
“I always know when you’re near,” I admitted. “Always have.” Sniffling, I glanced down at my hands. “I could always sense you. Always. Fucking stalker.”
Ansel laughed. His big hand reached out and he tipped my face up. Thick fingers gently brushed the tears from my cheeks. “What do you feel when I’m near?” he entreated softly.
“Safe,” I mumbled, my lower lip trembling. “Watched. Protected.”
Leaning in, his lips brushed mine. “You came back to me.” His eyes were full of his wolf, turquoise rimmed in gold. “I’ve claimed you and you’re mine, Warhola. And now you’ve claimed me back. You’re stuck with me, Roly.”
“You’re fucking nuts, Asshole. You know that, don’t you?”
“Certifiable.”
“Crazy pants cuckoo.”
“Padded room.”
“Insta-hug-jacket.”
“Lifer. Emmy?”
“Hmm?”
Turquoise eyes bore into mine. “I love you, so fucking much. Fell in love with you the moment I set eyes on you.”
“You were four,” I reminded, trying to make light of the situation. “Aaaand still haven’t answered my question. I’ll remind you, I was a squirming, red faced bundle, screaming my head off, resembling some kind of grub worm, or so my baby pictures have led me to believe and Dad contends, but okay.”
“You were the cutest ugly worm baby I’d ever laid eyes on. Shut up.”
“I’m tryin’.” The struggle not to joke and ease the palpable tension filling the truck’s cab was hard.
I couldn’t say either of us were the romantic declarations type. This was awkward, good awkward, but I could literally feel how uncomfortable this was for him, and alternately how important. He needed to say it, and at this moment, desperately wanted me to shut the fuck up and heed his words. I blinked, wondering how I could possibly know all of this so clearly, and promptly but firmly pressed my lips together to keep from fucking this up any further for him. Let him love you, you little idiot. Get your mush on with your man, Warhola. You’re probably only going to hear this once in this lifetime.
Blowing out a long breath, his lips pulled down into a dark scowl and he grunted out, “I’d have waited for your dumb ass forever, if that’s what it took. Mates aren’t fickle, my feelings for you aren’t transferable, or changing, you newb. It was you, I didn’t know what it meant then, I just had this feelin’. You were mine and I was supposed to look after you, take care of you, be what you needed when you needed it, felt it deep in my soul. I just knew it was you.”
“And if I was like a million, covered in wrinkles and my shit was dried out like a husk?” I mused. Yeah, I was insufferable, and probably going to hell for ruining the sweetest declaration of love, and only one I was ever going to receive happily.
Sliding a hand to the back of my neck, the other cupping my lower jaw, he arched a brow at me. “I loved you during your grub worm phase, did I not?”
This close, I felt bad for bursting out laughing in his face, hot tears starting to spill down my cheeks as emotions chose that time to bleed out. Who seemed certifiable now, I thought, sniffling and chortling, honking funky happy yet distressed noises into his face.
If Ansel gave a shit, he wasn’t showing it. The man was soaking it up, the smile tugging at his face brighter than sunshine.
“Tell me what the fuck was going on at the mixer so I don’t feel so murder-y, then kiss me,” I demanded, echoing his tone and words from the book store, putting a bit of growl into it.
“Is that what you want, Roly?” he asked softly, tenderly.
“Kiss me, then tell me. I don’t know what the fuck was up at the mixer but I trust your stupid ass. Now smack one on me, Asshole, or I’ll bite your fucking face off.”
“That’s my girl,” he barked on a laugh, and cut off my snarling reply with a heart stopping smooch.
Chapter Thirteen
Laid out on Ansel’s bed, his heart thumping heavily in my ear as I sprawled out across him, the side of my face pressed into his chest, my fingers walked up his chest, pausing on a flat, dark nipple to circle it teasingly. One hand behind his head, the other brushed my upper back, tickling across my shoulder blades.
“Mmm,” I murmured, grinning when he murmured back.
“I broke our agreement,” his deep voice rumbled out in the silence of the aftermath of another mate frenzied coupling. His bedroom was nice, done in dark hues, deep burgundy and black bedding, plain, simple, but comfy, the walls a charcoal grey with white accents, white bead board with a fat trim along the lower half of the walls. Darkly stained oak furniture, sturdy and heavy, finishing it all off, tied the look together.
“What agreement?” Confused, I glanced up, wondering at the apprehension swamping him.
“I broke it when I decided to come after you at the mixer and, ah... might’ve scared off any potential males interested in pursuing you.”
“What?”
“Ah...” he winced, “yep.”
“They were hitting on you to get back at you for scaring off wo
lves thinking of mate-testing with me? It was like a kind of revenge on my behalf? So they... wanted to hit on you to get back at you for mucking up my chances? Even though they knew you were half mated to me?”
“That about sums it up. They were pissed I kept dicking around and playing middleman, subterfuge, instead of growing a pair and admitting what was going on in the first place and just laying it all out there for you, being straight with you.” Frowning, staring off over my shoulder, he started to share images to corroborate his story, our bond flowing strong with our recent bloodletting.
“It’s okay. I can feel it.” Nuzzling into him with the side of my face, I held a hand up. “I trust you.”
His frown as he shifted so he could press a kiss to the top of my head, pausing there, didn’t lessen. “We’re okay, then?”
Wrapping my arms around him, I gave his midsection a hug. “More than okay. Just, you know, tell me shit. Say your shit instead of ending up deep in it for withholding.”
“Say my shit. Got it.”
Hugging his middle harder, and harder, until he grunted, groaned, and a breath wheezed out of him, I snuggled into him, my teeth peeking, flashing sharp and white, to place my lips to his chest.
“Can’t breathe,” he chuffed out, tapping my shoulder.
“What was that, handsome?”
“Tight. Breathe. Boa constrictor.” He tried to laugh, but his face was turning a funny color.
“Sorry. Can’t hear you. Say again?”
Instead of talking, he sent images, then the thought, Choke me, daddy, like that silly Star Wars meme Fynn’d been obsessed with a few short years back, along with the meme in question. Chortling like a fool, I burst out laughing, releasing him to fall to my back beside him, sliding into the cradle of his arm.
“Kinky,” I got out between guffaws.
“I think you still need some of this,” he grumbled as he coughed, sucking in lungfuls of air. Hopping up and rolling right out of the bed, moving lightning quick, leaving me to fall back against the bedding as I laughed my ass off, his hand landed on my ankle and he jerked me to the end of the bed. My legs dangled off the edge of the bed, his big body looming as he gripped my hips and just flipped me, pressing me into the bed. Curling my legs beneath me, I waggled my ass saucily in the air, earning a teasing tap to jiggling cheeks that sent me into another fit of laughter.
Until I Make You MINE (Wolves of Amrok Hollow) Page 15