by Holley Trent
He pocketed the map. “I’ll figure something out.”
She nodded, cast one sidelong glance at Sweetie, who cowered behind a wide pine tree, and walked away.
Sighing, Mark crouched near Sweetie and stared at her a long while. Then he extended a hand to her slowly and rested it on the top of her head.
Her instinct was to run, to shuck off his touch, but he pushed soothing energy into her that had her sinking down onto her haunches and relaxing atop the decomposing leaves on the forest floor.
“Why did you have to be so picky?” he whispered, but at the time, Sweetie didn’t understand. She canted her head to the side and just watched him through her wolf eyes.
“I’ll be back when I can,” he said. “Wish you were on your A-game. Lots of stuff happening in Mortonville and I know you’ll regret missing it.”
With a final pat, he stood and followed Mama out the woods.
In the cabin, Sweetie forced her eyes open, and pushed herself upright with a gasp. Was that just a dream, or had that really happened? Her cousins were going to put her down? She didn’t know why the idea appalled her so. Sweetie knew that was the way wolves handled their business, but judging by the fact it’d been summer she hadn’t even been wild all that long at the time.
They didn’t even give her a chance.
“Mark?”
Her eyes slowly acclimated to the brightness of the cabin and found Mark at the stove carving up the chicken.
He wore only a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants that sat low on his hips and a plain black apron draped around his neck, but not tied at the back.
She put her feet on the floor and slowly put weight on them. When her legs didn’t crumble beneath her, she looked up at him.
He set down the knife and long fork and cleaned his hands on the apron. “Want me to help you?”
“No. Just give me a moment. I just needed to see if I was really awake.” She padded slowly to the dresser and opened the top drawer. There she found neatly folded clothes of the softest cotton, socks, and underwear still in the package. Everything else seemed to have been pre-washed, but those … those he hadn’t wanted to touch.
Typical Mark.
She ripped the package open with her teeth, pulled out a pair, and stepped into them. They were a little loose at the waist but would have fit her if she’d been her usual size. She’d need to double up on calories to get back to it. Fuck what the wolf wanted. Her depressed wolf hadn’t even kept her fed when it mattered.
She picked out a pair of black lounge pants that thankfully had a drawstring and paired them with a plain red shirt in honor of the occasion.
Once dressed, she sat at the table and Mark unfurled a cloth napkin onto her lap.
“We’ll have days of leftovers,” he said. “The guy on the radio said the blizzard is going to move off overnight and we should have a warm-up in the morning. We might be able to dig out of here and drive somewhere by Friday. I can still teleport, but it takes a lot of energy now, especially if I have to carry someone.”
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere you want.” He set a plate in front of her, and automatically, she picked up a fork to dig in.
Realizing how she must have looked, she set it back down and looked at him. “Sorry. I do have some manners. It just smells so good. Looks good, too.”
“Go on and eat. No pretenses here. I’m going to as well. Being locked in this body has activated my appetites.”
She caught the plural reference, but didn’t acknowledge it. She’d probably heave herself into the snow and run back to her cave if he suggested that perhaps they retire to the bed and take care of certain hormone issues. Damn, she’d wanted him to “take care of” her, and soundly, but in her mind, there was still a barrier she needed to get around that said that he was a sacred thing that couldn’t be touched.
“Do you need to eat? I mean … in the past, you didn’t need to.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know if need is the right word. I only know a few other angels who have fallen and didn’t go the demon route. I talked to one of them a while ago. He said from a physiological standpoint, we all respond a bit differently. We all have different powers, but none of us have been stripped of everything. I don’t know why we’ve retained some of our angelic gifts, and I suspect it isn’t meant for me to understand. No one really knows their purpose until they die. Depends on how we’re being punished for our defiance, I guess. I do get uncomfortable if I go too long without eating. I graze a lot. I haven’t let myself go so long without eating that I’ve ever felt actual hunger, though. It’s an experiment I’m not interested in.”
“Oh.” She picked up a roll and pulled it apart.
He made a plate of his own and sat across from her. “You were moving around a lot in your sleep. I thought about waking you. I was about to, in fact,” he said. He’d put his glasses back on, and she noticed there was a new concave to the lenses that distorted the sides of his face. Those weren’t just for play!
He must have noticed her staring, because he chuckled and slipped them off.
“They’re real.” He turned them around and held them an inch from her nose. Her eyes nearly crossed from looking through them.
“Another physiological oddity. It’s a pretty weak prescription, but I guess the glasses are part of me just like my height and bone structure.”
And she liked that height and bone structure very much. It was part of that whole “making pretty babies” thing. The wolf in her agreed.
Odd. The wolf in her was far pickier than the woman. She was more to blame for Sweetie’s relative old maid status than the human being part of her. No one looked right or smelled right.
She discreetly scented the air on the wolf’s whim and appreciated the aroma of good food and … and Mark.
He smelled perfect. He smelled like home.
He put the glasses back on and nudged the gravy boat across the table. “There might be some lumps in it. It’s my first time making it on my own. It tastes good, but the texture might be questionable.”
She just stared at him. His calming energy kept washing over her and filling her up. Every time she felt that wild spark, he tamped it back down. Whether he was doing it purposefully or whether it was some automatic thing due solely to proximity, it was everything she needed.
He gave her everything she needed, but what was he getting in return?
The delighted grin he wore as he spread butter onto his bread reminded her.
Passion, he’d said. But, was she included in that or just the means for him gaining it? Maybe she shouldn’t care. He was doing her a favor no one else would have, and she should be thankful. She should just give herself to him. It wouldn’t be a hardship.
“I had a dream during my nap. Or at least, I think it was a dream,” she said. She speared a bit of chicken and dragged it through the gravy, in which she could see not a single lump. He could give Mama lessons on gravy making because the woman was way too heavy-handed with the flour. She should have had her Southern lady membership card revoked. “My cousins were there and Mama. They were going to shoot me and you stopped them.”
“Oh.” He set down his fork and rested his elbows on the table as he blew out a long breath. “That really happened. I think the memory resurfaced because your mind was clear.”
“You’ve been watching me all this time?”
He nodded.
“Why? You could have been like Jep and just gotten rid of me.”
“You gave me a purpose. I needed one, remember?”
“I don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into. Maybe I can understand a little why you’d give up being an angel so you could pursue things that brought you joy, but not why you’d tether yourself to me for the rest of my life.”
“Rest of my life,” he said, “which as you know the span of which is more or less open-ended.”
All she could do was blink.
“I can’t think of a single p
erson I’d want to be so intimately connected to for all the years to come. I’m not just looking for someone to take care of, and let me tell you that having a woman of my own to protect and comfort is an incredibly enticing thing to a man like me. I also want someone to take care of me.”
“You don’t need taking care of.”
“Don’t I? I’m not an angel anymore, Sweetie. I’m not easy to kill, but there are people who’d like to try. I’m not neutral. I’ve picked a side in this whole supernatural political fracas, and I’ve made lots of enemies in a short time.”
Yeah, she imagined they shared some of the same enemies. The wolves had been more or less neutral until Calvin married Julia. They couldn’t help but to take sides then.
“I need someone at my back,” he said. His socked foot found her shin beneath the table and gave it a little nudge. “I know how you fight, and I know how protective you are. You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, even if I was just your friend. I don’t want to be just your friend, though. I’m not pleased to admit that I wouldn’t have fallen if I thought we wouldn’t be lovers. Angels aren’t supposed to have thoughts like those, but I did.”
She tittered nervously. Somehow, it’d been easier to be confident around him when she’d thought he didn’t want her. “I … don’t want to be just friends either. I just think I’m getting the better end of the deal, and that upsets my sense of fairness. That’s why I’m the pack ombudswolf. Or was, anyway. I made sure everyone was treated fairly and that everyone had a voice. This doesn’t set right in my gut, you getting tethered with me when you could be with a goddess or sweet little nymph or something.”
“Then recalibrate your fucking gut.”
His sharp tone made heat flare low in her belly. Maybe it was that recalibration he was talking about. Felt a lot like being turned on to her, though. It was taking every bit of self-restraint she had not to ask him to pin her down and bite the scruff of her neck.
“We can argue about this until the four horsemen come,” he said, “but I’d rather save my breath for more pleasurable things.”
“Like what?”
Bite me.
“Like making love to you. I’ve asked all the right questions. I know what it takes to complete our bonding. I know what your wolf wants. I had wanted to take things slow and ease you into this, but … maybe you’ll understand me better once we’re joined.”
“You can’t undo it. Wolves mate for life. You do it, you’re stuck with me, just like Julia is stuck with Calvin. Lord knows what she sees in his snarly ass.”
He was right. She was self-hating, and it was a pernicious thing. She was sick of sabotaging herself. She could be happy. With him, if he really wanted her.
“Good.” He picked his fork back up and scooped some greens onto it. “Then I won’t have to chase you. Eat up. I’ve got a Christmas gift for you and you won’t get it unless you eat every bite.”
Intrigued, she slid some chicken between her lips and let out a pleasurable little moan at the flavorful seasoning. The man could cook. Damn.
She ate, and not just because she was hungry, but because it seemed to make him happy.
Such a small thing and he was grinning like a lottery winner. She had to grin, too.
This was what love was, she decided, and she hadn’t recognized it because she’d never known it. She wasn’t just a prima donna wolf to him. Not just the alpha’s sister or the bitchy ombudswolf.
To him, she was Sweetie. She wanted more than anything to be his Sweetie, but there was still a chance he’d change his mind.
Nine months was a hell of a long time to be joined at the hip to a needy wolf bitch, and that was assuming they hit a hole in one. Her wolf was calm now, but wouldn’t be stable until she whelped. Her mate would have to stay close, keep her at bay. It was an unreasonable expectation to hold any man to, especially one she didn’t really want in the first place. That’s why she’d retreated to the woods. She’d rather lose herself to her wolf than settle.
There was a reason her brother hadn’t wanted a wolf mate, either. The man knew his limits.
Did Mark?
She hoped so.
CHAPTER SIX
“Come here.” Mark motioned Sweetie over to the table, but she wouldn’t budge.
She lay on her back, gurgling at the ceiling and rubbing her belly. “Can’t. Move. Too. Stuffed.”
“Come on, you finished an hour ago. I thought werewolves had turbo-charged digestive systems and metabolisms.”
“Oh yeah. Male wolves do.” She groaned dramatically and tipped herself onto her side. “And teenaged girl wolves, maybe. Grown-ass woman wolves? Not so much. Haven’t you seen the spread on Mama’s ass?”
He knew better than to answer that.
“You really don’t want to know what’s in the box?” he asked. “I’ve been holding onto this for a year.”
“Did you recycle a Christmas gift? I would have thought you were way too classy for that, Angel.”
“Quit calling me Angel, and no, this isn’t a re-gift. Aren’t you the slightest bit curious?”
“I’ll never stop calling you Angel. And yes, I’m curious, but this bed is so comfortable.” She rubbed the mattress and emitted a wanton little groan. “I didn’t think Claude had it in him.”
“Claude doesn’t. I dragged Claude’s mattress out back and burned it. It was flat as a pancake and probably possessed by at least three malevolent spirits.”
“And you’re just going to leave this here when you go?”
“When we go.”
She made a dismissive flick of her hand. He knew she was only humoring him at best, but she’d have to get over whatever her hang-up was. It was obvious she wanted him, and that’s what kept him pushing onward. They had a lot of years to come to work out their kinks, and he was patient enough to see them through it.
“All right. You won’t come to me, I’ll come to you. That’s the way it’ll always be, I guess.” And he was perfectly fine with it. Even alpha wolves had to chase their ladies sometimes.
“You might have to chase me down and put a collar and leash on me at some point,” she said sardonically.
It would have been funny if it weren’t for what was in the box. He cringed, and carried it to her.
She sat up and set the narrow box on her lap. When she didn’t open it immediately, he knelt in front of her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t get you anything.”
“Given the circumstances, I didn’t expect you to.”
“But it’s not fair if—”
He knelt up and smothered her words with his lips. Her mouth was set in a tight, tense line, barring him entry. He flicked at the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue until she opened up.
He probed the inner reaches of her mouth, exploring all the soft recesses and teasing her lazy tongue with his own until she kissed back.
She put her hands on the sides of his head and angled him just so for her comfort. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth in short, provocative thrusts that reminded him of other things they could be doing.
As if on cue, his cock swelled, but being in loose pants now, he felt more discomfort than pain. He may have been a novice at lovemaking, but even he knew that he’d only find relief in coming. He also knew that if she so much as touched him, he’d probably go off like a geyser.
Mark took the box from her and set it on the floor beside the bed. “You can open that later.” What was inside wasn’t all that romantic, anyway.
“Mmm.” She reclaimed his lips and somehow rolled with him so he was on his back and she lay on top of him, straddling his thighs.
With one wriggle of her ass, she had him hissing and pushing at her hips. “It’s just a little foreplay,” she said, and had the audacity to giggle.
“I can’t take it.”
She pushed up onto her palms and studied him intently. “Don’t tell me you haven’t cleaned the pipes since … well … you know.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not going to tell you that. In fact, I’ve gotten very familiar with my right hand in the past couple of months. I know every wrinkle and bump on my cock just by feel. I would imagine that getting off on your own is a hell of a lot different than having the sensual stimulation of a partner.”
“Oh.” There was an evil glint in her eyes as she eased down his legs and grabbed the waistband of his pants.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you take it. Don’t talk me out of it. Touching you makes me feel like a degenerate. I’m trying to get over it.”
“Sweetie, there’s nothing more degenerate than the dreams of a virgin entity who happens to be billions of years old.”
“Oh really?” She exposed him with one hard yank and grabbed his shaft.
It was as if she’d pulled some lever and activated his body from a long stasis because he bolted upright only for her to push him back down.
“If I’m going to Hell for corrupting you, I might as well have a good time of it.” She worked her thumb over his head and slicked him up with his own lubrication.
“Y-you’re not going to Hell for this,” he managed to croak out. His own Hell at the moment would probably feel like persistent blue balls.
“You’re probably right.” She bent down over him and trained her bright eyes on his face. “I was probably bound for Hell long before I met you.”
He was going to make some rebuttal, but she pulled him into her hot mouth and flitted her tongue against him.
“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely and moved his hands to her head. He couldn’t help himself, and gave her a little nudge downward.
Her body shuddered against his legs—a chuckle, perhaps—and she said around his cock, “Guess you like that.”
“It’d be broken if I didn’t. Why don’t you spin around and let me return the favor? That’ll probably be the most fun you’ll get from me today.”