She smiled. “I was always coming back,” she murmured, as she gingerly dabbed at the cut. “You’re a shifter. This won’t take long to heal.” She glanced toward Dion. He’d already gained consciousness and was sitting up. One good thing about being a shifter, she thought, you mended fast. Dalton grasped her hand, and she met his gray gaze, surprised by the sincerity that had replaced his normal mischievous glint.
“I mean it, Trin. I found out about Rafe’s message after it was sent. I’d never have allowed it otherwise.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you would have stood up to our alpha prime, huh? That would have been a worthy bout of what, three seconds?” There was a reason Rafe was alpha prime. He was the biggest, strongest lycan out of the lot of them, and he now had new fangs that didn’t require a shift to be dangerous.
He shook his head. “No, I would have called a council.”
Her eyes widened. “You would have done that, for me?” An alpha prime had an infallible right to rule, but the pack wasn’t without democracy. A council could be called to hear an appeal, and the alpha prime would be forced to consider all arguments. Normally it would be to ensure pack justice, but Rafe would have seen it as a challenge to his authority. “That would take you off Rafe’s Christmas card list.”
“You know I’d always look out for you.” He gave her an exasperated look, then grimaced. “Although it seems my protective services are no longer needed.”
She pressed the cloth to his forehead again, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“You know, you and that mountain of a guardian prime over there,” he said, lifting his chin in the direction of Matthias.
She glanced briefly over her shoulder. Matthias sat on a log, talking with Zane and Nate, but he didn’t look at his guardians. No, he was glaring at them.
“Ignore him.”
“Please, he looks like he wants to pull my arms out of my sockets and shove them down my throat for talking to his woman.”
“Here, hold that,” she said, grabbing his hand and pressing it to the cloth against his head. “Your face is an absolute mess.” She grabbed one of the cloths and dipped it into the water. “And I’m not his woman,” she muttered. She would never pledge herself to a man who loved another. No matter how gorgeous, ripped or possessive he seemed. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and frowned at Matthias. He was glaring at her with a hunger that would be obvious and unacceptable to her pack mates, yet created an echoing desire within herself. His brows pulled together when he saw her expression.
“Hey, you’ll get no judgement from me, Trin,” Dalton said, and tried to dodge the wet cloth she wiped across his cheek. “Trin, please, you’re ruining my tough-guy vibe.”
“I think that was lost with the pink bunnies wrapped around your knee, now hold still, you big pup.” She wiped at the streaks of dirt across his chin. “What do you mean, you’re not judging me?”
Dalton’s gray gaze shifted from hers. “Look, I know they grabbed you, and I know you had to do whatever you had to, to survive. And really, if fate has that kind of wicked sense of humor, it’s okay with me.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Dalton shrugged. “I get it. The pack cast you out, you’ve forged a new bond with a new pack. Sure, I’d prefer any other pack than Alpine, but I’ll get used to it. So will the others.”
She gaped at him for a moment, then started to attack the dirt on the other side of his face. “I have not joined Alpine, for crying out loud. I haven’t abandoned Woodland, and I don’t intend to. No matter how obstinate they are, my family will eventually accept me.”
Dalton winced, and she wasn’t sure it was from her cleaning efforts, or her words. “That’s going to be a little harder for them to do, considering.”
Trinity dropped her hands in her lap. “Considering what?”
Dalton shifted. “Do I have to keep holding this?” he asked, indicating the cloth to his forehead.
“Yes,” she snapped, “now don’t try to change the subject. Considering what?”
“Considering...” Dalton tilted his head in the direction of Matthias, his eyes widening. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know. What?” God help her, she was going to strangle her friend if he didn’t just spit out whatever it was he was trying to say.
Dalton rolled his eyes. “Fine. You don’t know, but I do, Trin. I know,” he said meaningfully, tilting his head at Matthias.
She gasped, her cheeks warming. “How do you know?” she whispered, looking about the camp. Her pack members were either lying down or sitting, some being tended to by the Alpine guardians, others looking after themselves. If they knew she’d lain with Matthias, it would be yet another mark against her, another crime against her family.
“How do I—” Dalton’s eyes bugged for a moment. “How do I know? I can smell him on you, Trin. I can smell him. I can smell you...” He shook his head. “It’s obvious.”
She closed her eyes. Oh. Dear. Lord. How embarrassing. She covered her face. “I bathed this morning,” she muttered. She thought she was the only one who could smell Matthias. He smelled delicious. Potent, powerful, exciting. All through the day, digging out her family, sniffing the air, his scent had teased her, and it had taken a lot of energy to separate his scent, his temptation, from the task at hand. To know her family could smell him on her... “I’ll have to go swim in the river,” she stated.
Dalton chuckled. “That ain’t gonna work, darlin’.”
She peered up at him through her fingers. “Why not?”
“Because his scent is all over you. He’s marked you as his. That’s what happens with imprinting.”
She flung her hands up. “God, what does that even mean?” she cried in frustration.
“It means he imprinted on you,” Dalton stated, as though it was obvious.
She leaned forward, her eyes meeting his. “What does that mean?” she repeated, pleading with him for something that would help her understand what the hell was going on.
Dalton frowned. “You know, impri—” his eyes widened in understanding. “You don’t know,” he whispered. “Oh. Hell.”
“Tell me,” she pleaded again.
He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Being buried alive is beginning to look really good.” He opened his eyes, and despite his obvious embarrassment, she saw the sympathy in her friend’s gaze. “I thought one of the elders had had the talk with you...”
“Well, obviously there is a gap in my education. Spill it.”
Dalton bit his lip, then finally nodded. He held up a finger. “Let me preface this by saying that once this discussion is over, we are going to pretend it never happened, okay?”
She nodded. It must be bad. “Okay.”
Dalton exhaled, then lowered the cloth from his head. “Imprinting is when a male marks a female with his scent.”
Trinity nodded. “Got it.”
“Wait, let me finish. When he marks her, he claims her—”
“Whoa, what? I’m not claimed.” Nothing had been discussed; she hadn’t agreed to anything. She may not know everything about relationships but she knew enough to be aware that claiming was a two-phase process. One had to claim, and one had to accept the claim. She hadn’t accepted any damn claim.
Dalton gave her a warning look. “Will you stop interrupting me and just listen? This conversation is already awkward enough as it is. Let’s not drag it out any longer than necessary, okay?”
She clutched her hands in her lap. “Sure. Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Thank you. So the male establishes a claim on the female with a bite and his scent.” Dalton took a deep breath. Looked at her. Trinity narrowed her eyes. Was he...?
“You’re blushing.”
“Shut up. I just need a minute.” Dalton sucked in
another breath.
“You’re going to hyperventilate if you keep that up.”
“God, Trin, please—shut up,” he groaned. He held up a hand to halt her next question. “During...” he rolled his hand. Trinity tilted her head. What was this, some sort of universal body language among men? Matthias had used something similar. She’d almost feel awkward, but Dalton was embarrassed enough for the both of them.
“Sex,” she supplied in exasperation.
Dalton’s eyes closed and his shoulders sagged. “During sex,” he said through gritted teeth, “when—at the point where everyone is feeling good—”
She frowned. “Everyone? How many people do you have sex with at one time?”
His eyelids slowly opened and he glared at her. He didn’t need to say a word. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I promise, I’ll shut up now.”
“When the couple are most enjoying themselves, certain chemicals are released. Pheromones.” He waved a hand. “Whatever. Anyway, they mingle, they mix and then voilà, you have created a bonded scent. This scent acts as a marker to any other males that the female is, uh, taken, if you like.”
Trinity opened her mouth to protest, but Dalton shook his head as he continued. “This scent is like a primal connection. The male becomes attached to the female. He has this need to protect her, to nourish her, to keep her safe and to...copulate with her.” Dalton swallowed, and an embarrassed heat began to bloom in her own cheeks. “The female recognizes the scent of her partner, and it will affect her...” He dragged a hand over his face. “God, kill me now.”
Trinity lowered her gaze. She suspected where he might be headed with this and he was right, it was decidedly awkward.
“The female has the urge to...consort. Repeatedly.”
She closed her eyes. Yep. Awkward. A wave of heat washed over her, but she could tell it wasn’t an effect of the imprint. No, this was pure mortification.
“It’s the first stage of the mating bond ritual.”
Her muscles tightened, and she slowly opened her eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
Dalton gave her a miserable look. “A claim has been made. For the female to accept the claim and complete the ritual, she has to...” He made that same rolling motion with his hand.
“For God’s sake, just spit it out,” she whispered.
“She has to bite the male back, when they’re both feeling really, really good,” he said in a small voice. “If you get my drift.”
She nodded.
“I mean, when the couple is being inti—”
“I get it,” she said quickly, to try to stop any further embarrassment. Her gaze flicked over to Matthias, who was now listening intently to his guardians. He’d marked her. He’d scented her. He’d started to mate with her. She hadn’t agreed to any of this.
“How do you, uh, stop it?” she asked.
“Well, you have two choices. You accept the claim, go ahead with the mating, or you...don’t. If you don’t, you don’t get any, uh—relief from the heat,” Dalton said, looking down at his feet. “Not until another male decides to try and mark you, which would be difficult if you’re wearing another’s scent.”
“And the male? What happens to him if the mating isn’t completed?” she bit out. “Or does he get off scot-free?”
Dalton winced. “Uh, he doesn’t get...off.” He lifted his hand and she grabbed it.
“So help me, do not roll your hand again. Use your words, Dalton,” she muttered.
“If a mating ritual is not completed, you’ll both be frustrated until another potential mate is discovered. If you don’t find a new mate, then the, uh, frustration, drains you of energy, and you can both die.”
“You mean we pine for each other?” she gasped, horrified.
Dalton pursed his lips, then nodded. “Yeah.” His face lightened. “Or if one of you dies first. If one dies before the mating bond is completed, the other is released.”
“That skunk,” Trinity gasped, gazing back at Matthias.
“Uh, to be fair, Trinity, sometimes imprinting is a decision, but most of the time, when a male finds a mate, it’s a natural instinct. He doesn’t necessarily have control over it.”
“Have you ever imprinted?”
Dalton gulped. “Uh, no. I haven’t met my mate.”
“So you do have some control. You can choose not to,” Trinity pointed out.
“Sort of. I haven’t met my mate, so I don’t know how I’ll react.”
Trinity leaned forward. “Here’s a tip. Make sure you get her permission, first.”
Dalton rolled his eyes. “This is so not a conversation I ever wanted to have with you.”
“So let me get this straight,” Trinity said, holding up a finger, frowning as she tried to grapple with the information she’d just received. “I can either shag Matthias and bite him, or else live out the rest of my days in a constant state of horny frustration until I pathetically starve myself and die, or I could kill him. Is that about right?”
Dalton gave her a tight-lipped nod. “Yep.”
She sat there in dismayed shock as she processed her friend’s news.
“Got it?”
“Got it.”
Dalton nodded, then looked away. “So glad we never had this conversation.”
Trinity nodded, the muscles tight in her jaw. “Me, too.” She looked toward the other side of the campsite, and Matthias watched her warily. “Option three is looking pretty good at the moment...”
She dropped the cloth back into the bowl and rose to her feet, her eyes fixed on a particular heat-inducing lycan.
* * *
Matthias wandered away from the campsite, knowing Trinity would follow him. He guessed she was upset, and wanted any discussions they had to be in private. Once they were far enough away from the encampment, he turned to face his she-wolf.
Crack! The fist to his jaw actually made him turn his head this time.
“You weasel,” she snarled, her fist pulled back for another punch.
“Weasel? Well, it’s better than skunk, I guess,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “I take it you heard,” he caught her fist as she swung at him. “Okay, granted, I deserved that one, but I only let my she-wolf hit me once a day.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed in a growl as she lowered her fist. She stalked away, then came back at him, eyes flashing. “I am not your she-wolf.”
He mock grimaced. “Well, a certain little bite says otherwise.” He had to admit that while he regretted the way it had come about, he couldn’t regret the fact that the mate he’d chosen—or that fate had chosen for him—was spectacular.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” she rasped. “Where is my choice in the matter?”
He dragged her to him, grasping her hand to place it on the front of his trousers. His arousal was obvious. “Do you think I have a choice in this?” The words came out in a growl. “Did your friend not tell you that sometimes, the male doesn’t get a say, either? It just happens?”
Her mouth opened for a moment, and her gaze dropped to his chest, and farther, before finally drifting up to meet his eyes again. “But I don’t want a mate,” she cried. He closed his eyes briefly at the pain that lanced through him at her words.
His hands rose to rest on her shoulders. “Trust me, I wasn’t expecting to find a mate,” he muttered.
“Then why did you imprint?” she wailed.
“Fate has a twisted sense of humor,” he sighed. He lifted a dark curl from her shoulder. “I had a wife once, Trinity. And I loved her. I grieved for her when she died, and I never thought in a million years I’d find another to share my life with. But Cara—Cara was my wife. She was never a mate.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that th
is is new for me, too.” He wrapped the curl around his finger, and tugged playfully at it. She might want to deny their imprint connection, but she couldn’t deny their shared physical attraction. That had been clear since the moment he’d tackled her in the forest. Before, if he admitted it to himself. “But I’m not resisting this,” he whispered, as he leaned forward. “I’m accepting it.”
He covered her mouth with his, running his hand through the thick dark silk of her hair as he pulled her warm, supple body close to him. There was no resistance from her, just an immediate acceptance of his kiss. She opened to him, and his tongue slid inside. The familiar, raging arousal flared within him, and he sighed when he felt her hands slide up his arms and wrap around his neck.
Like every other moment he’d spent with her, he was consumed with an awareness of her. The honeyed taste of her lips, the pounding of her heart against his...the soft yet firm curve of her butt as he pulled her even closer, the heat generated between them almost painful, but always exquisitely pleasurable.
He lifted his lips from hers. “Can you really deny this? Can you walk away from this?”
Her hands flattened along his shoulders to slide down his chest, until they bracketed the ring that rested over his heart.
“Can you walk away from this?” she asked, gesturing to the ring. “I can’t commit myself to a man who loves a ghost. I won’t share his attention with the memory of another.” She shook her head. “I don’t mean that to sound harsh, although I know it probably does. I understand you loved your wife, and I’d never want you to forget her. I’d never want to force anyone to let go of something so precious—and after seeing what my father went through, I don’t know if that’s actually possible.” She lifted her gaze to his. “But I won’t share my bed with a ghost, Matthias.”
“It’s not like that,” he said, drawing her closer, enjoying the press of her breasts against his chest, the long length of her legs against his.
“Then take off the chain.”
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