What a Wolf Desires (Lux Catena Series Book 1)

by Amy Pennza

  She knew her mouth was hanging open, but she didn’t seem to have the ability to close it.

  His eyes singed hers. “You’re the first thing I think about when I wake. When I close my eyes, yours is the face I see. Cut me open, and you’ll find your name written across my heart. You are a fever in my blood, Lizette.”

  Moisture dampened her panties. Her sex throbbed.

  His wolf stared her down. “And you know what else?”

  “What?” she whispered, unable to resist the command in his voice.

  “I want to burn.”

  16

  Later, Lizette couldn’t remember leaving the diner. She had hazy memories of Max paying the bill, and then she was standing next to the SUV with an aroused Alpha at her back. She tried to the open the door, but her hand shook too much to grasp the handle.

  Max’s arm came around her. He placed his palm flat on the door and stood there, his body just touching hers. His scent washed over her—pine, frost, and the dark spice that told her he was walking a knife’s edge of desire. The heat from his body warmed her from the back of her head down to her knees.

  She met his gaze in the window. His eyes were wolf-bright. Apprehension surged through her. “Max…”

  Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and put his lips to her ear. “Get in the car, petite.”

  “I-I don’t think that’s a good id—” He captured her earlobe in his teeth, and she gasped at the sharp pain while warmth gathered between her thighs.

  “Be a good girl and get in the car.” He popped the door handle and eased away just enough for her to edge around the door.

  Oh, God. She climbed in on unsteady legs. He watched her, his broad shoulders filling the door frame, and then shut the door with careful precision.

  She held her breath as he rounded the SUV and climbed in. His hands gripping the steering wheel until the plastic creaked, he stared unseeing at the diner.

  Her heart galloped in her chest. The essence of what made him Alpha curled around her, making every breath feel like she was dragging in air through a straw.

  He looked at her. “You think I only want you for your Gift? That I’m pretending to want you?”

  An hour ago she would have said yes. Now she wasn’t so sure. “I…don’t know.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not good enough.” He leaned across the center console, captured her jaw, and kissed her.

  It wasn’t a gentle kiss. He licked along the seam of her lips, demanding entry. She parted them and he stormed in, invading her mouth. A sharp zip of pain lanced her bottom lip, and the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth.

  He pulled back, his fangs stained red.

  “Ah…pauvre bébé,” he whispered. Poor baby. “I nicked you. Let me kiss it better.” He dabbed his tongue against the tiny cut and her lip tingled as it healed. The second the skin closed, he seized her lips again, his hot mouth scorching hers.

  The mingled scents of their arousal filled the car. With each pull of his mouth, heat shot to her sex. She was so wet she felt slippery between her legs.

  He broke off the kiss. His voice rasped. “I have to taste you.” He snaked his hand between the console and her seat. There was a click, and then her seat moved back with a buzzing sound.

  A bolt of unease penetrated the desire clouding her mind. “Max, what—”

  “Shhh, petite.” He climbed across the console with a wolf’s grace and crouched at her feet. “I’m only going to kiss you.” His big hands spanned her waist, and then he tugged her yoga pants down her hips.

  She tried to close her legs, but his shoulders blocked her. Stop him. Don’t let him. The voice of reason urged her to push him away, to stop this madness. Her fingers curled against the urge to pull him closer. “Th-that’s more than a kiss.”

  He tugged off her shoes and removed her pants. Her scent bloomed stronger, and his nostrils flared. He pushed her knees wide, leaving nothing but the narrow strip of her panties between him and her most private places. Cool air played against the damp heat between her legs. She sent up a quick prayer of thanks for her waxing appointment the week before.

  His pale eyes met hers. “I said I was going to kiss you. I didn’t say where.”

  Lizette trembled, prey ensnared in a predator’s trap. His broad shoulders forced her legs apart. She’d never been so vulnerable. A restless ache built in her sex. “Please…” The word came out on a sob.

  “Please what, petite?” He traced a finger down the narrow strip of black silk covering her sex. “Please touch you here?”

  His finger brushed her clit through the cloth, sending shock waves over her skin and nerve endings. She braced a hand against the door. The hot, shivering need spiraling in her belly was too much to bear. Through the windshield, she spotted Stephanie clearing their table. “People will see.”

  His fangs flashed. “Then you’d better control yourself.” He stroked down her center again.

  Need more. The elusive, tingling warmth hovered just of her reach. She whimpered.

  He looked up. “You’ve soaked your panties.” He pressed a finger against her opening, the thin silk a flimsy barrier between his finger and her sex. “Here…” He hooked his finger under the silk. His eyes burned, and a wicked smile curved his lips. “Ah, and here too.” He dipped a fingertip inside her, then spread her juices over her labia.

  A strangled sound escaped her. The fluttering touch of his fingers sent ripples of heat shivering around her clit.

  He tugged the silk aside. A growl of approval rolled from his chest. “Bare down here, petite?” He smoothed a finger down one side of her labia. “So pretty. And so very wet for me.” He leaned forward and licked up the center of her sex.

  Her world exploded. Warmth rolled through her belly. His tongue circled her clit, flicking the tiny bud. Zips of electricity fired across her labia and down her thighs. More moisture gathered between her legs.

  Max growled, the sound vibrating against her fevered skin. He muttered a string of low, guttural French in between licks and nips. His voice lifted at the end, indicating a question.

  Her thoughts were too muddled to translate. “I d-don’t…understand.”

  He pulled back, his fangs so long they mangled his speech. Without his hot mouth on her skin, more cool air drifted over her spread sex. “I asked if you remembered your twenty-first birthday.”

  The only time he ever visited her apartment. “You brought me cake.” He’d come unannounced, a small box in his hands. Inside was a miniature version of the birthday cake from her sixteenth birthday party—the same pink and purple flowers adorning its pristine white frosting.

  His eyes gleamed with the memory, and then he dropped his focus back to her sex. “I asked if you remembered, and then I said your pussy is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Like frosting on my tongue.” He snapped the thin string of her thong and tore away the fabric, leaving her naked from the waist down.

  She squirmed under his reverent gaze. “Max…”

  He slid his hands under her ass, tilting her hips so she was spread open before him. “En français.”

  In French? “What do you mean—”

  “When you scream—and you will—I want you to scream my name in French.” He lifted her to his mouth and sucked.

  Stars burst in front of her eyes. Dimly, she saw the empty diner…the deserted parking lot around them. He held her like a feast on a platter, his dark head buried between her thighs. If someone pulls up next to us… Then Max sucked hard at her clit, and all coherent thought fled. His tongue dipped inside her, the wet sounds of his mouth on her slippery folds adding to the erotic tension. The rolling warmth spreading across her sex ratcheted up, tightening and tightening to a single point of sensation. She ground her sex into his face, desperate to catch the release dancing just out of reach.

  Her breasts ached, her nipples so hard they poked like tiny rocks through her bra and sweater.

  Max shifted, holding her ass on one big palm. He s
kimmed his other hand up her quivering thigh, and then slid a long, thick finger inside her. The intrusion filled her, stretching her throbbing sex. “That’s it, bébé,” he muttered. “So tight.”

  She threw her head back.

  Still sucking at her clit, he inserted another finger.

  Now she was stuffed, a delicious pressure filling her sex. She moaned. “Max…”

  “Ah ah.” He nipped her clit. “En français.”

  She writhed on his fingers, her breaths coming in pants. More…need more. She raised her legs, bracing her feet on his shoulders. Now she was splayed before him, her sex opened wide.

  He made an approving sound, his tongue firm against her clit. He pumped his fingers in and out, the squishing sounds of her arousal loud in the enclosed space. “Scream for me, petite.”

  “Maxime!” The tight spiral contracted, and buzzing warmth suffused her clit. Her senses exploded. She threw her head back and sobbed his name over and over.

  He fucked her with his fingers, pumping them inside like a piston. Wet smacking sounds punctuated her grunts. He sucked her clit hard, darting his tongue around the little bud. Wave after wave of delicious warmth rocked her. She grabbed her knees and pulled her legs back, straining to drive his fingers deeper inside her. Nothing else mattered. The world condensed to her sex and the buzzing, sparkling warmth dancing from her clit to her breasts.

  “Scream, bébé. Come for me.” He hooked a finger inside her, pressing up and back.

  The sweeping, buzzing fire rocketed across her skin. She sobbed her release, her thighs trembling around his head. The pleasure was too much—too intense. She gasped, rocking her hips on the thick fingers inside her. “Please, Maxime. Please.” She squirmed on his palm, too sensitive to endure more.

  A loud, electric buzzing filled the air, the sound like an angry hornet. Max swore and lowered her gently to the seat. He withdrew his fingers, and her sex contracted, her internal muscles clenching involuntarily.

  He licked the moisture from his fingers like he might a dab of sauce and then pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He swiped the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Simard.”

  Dom’s voice crackled across the line. “Hallerton’s awake.”

  Lizette tried to bring her thighs together, but Max lay his fingers across her sodden lips. She sucked in a breath. Dom would hear even the slightest noise. There was no such thing as a private phone conversation among werewolves. She grabbed Max’s wrist. “Don’t,” she mouthed, even as aftershocks made her legs and stomach tremble.

  “Is he talking?” Max said.

  “He’s writing.” Dom’s voice was wry. “He wants your reassurance you won’t kill him.”

  Max traced Lizette’s labia, his featherlight touch sending shooting sparks over her damp sex. “He shouldn’t have put his hands on what’s mine.”

  “According to him, he can explain that.” Dom took a breath.

  “What is it, Beta? Speak up.”

  “He left Nathan Hallerton in a motel on the Canadian border.”

  Lizette froze.

  “In my territory?” Max’s tone was silky. He locked gazes with her.

  “He says—writes—that he can explain that, too.”

  Max continued to hold her gaze. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. In the meantime, impress upon young Mr. Hallerton the precariousness of his situation. The second I scent a lie, he’s a dead man.”

  Max ended the call and tossed the phone on the center console. He put his hands on her spread thighs and rose from his crouch so his face was level with hers. “Three things, petite. I don’t need the lux catena to control your Gift. I’m not just your mate, I’m your Alpha. Your Bloodsinger talent is already mine to direct and control.”

  Before she could reply, he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t the hard, possessive kiss from before. This time, he eased his tongue inside in a slow, gentle caress. His mouth was warm and tasted faintly of salt. Heat bloomed across her chest as she realized she was tasting her own essence on his lips.

  He brought one hand to her jaw, cradling her cheek. His tongue dipped in her mouth one last time before he pulled away. “And another thing. There was no bond between us when I tracked you and Hallerton through the forest that night—no magical compulsion controlling my actions.”

  She opened her mouth, but he kept talking.

  “And the third thing? I wasn’t entirely certain you were a Bloodsinger when I bit you. I regret it, Lizette, but I’d do it again. That makes me a bad man. Worse, I know it and I don’t care.” He tipped her chin up and placed his thumb against her lower lip, spreading the salty-sweet tang of her juices on her mouth. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

  Without desire muddling her thoughts, she felt a spark irritation. Alpha or no, he didn’t own her. She jerked her chin away from his grasp. “And you? Does that mean you’re mine?”

  He didn’t laugh. He didn’t get angry or call up the wolf to put her in her place.

  No, he smiled.

  Pleasure gleamed in his eyes. “Oh yes, petite. I am most definitely yours.” His glance dropped to her mouth.

  If he kissed her again, she didn’t know if she could muster the resolve to stop him. She thought fast. “I want to be there when you question Jonah.”

  He glanced up. “Why? Still afraid I’ll kill him?”

  Evading the question, Maxime? “I know Nathan better than anyone else at the Lodge. If he’s really here, it might have something to do with me.”

  Max studied her, as if deciding whether to grant her request. Just as anger flooded her, he nodded. “All right.”

  “Really?”

  He smiled. This close, she saw the little laugh lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. “Did I surprise you?”

  “I’ve been surprised all night,” she said without thinking.

  Now he did laugh, a rich sound that made her stomach do a weird flip. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises, petite.”

  17

  Max studied the flames in the fireplace, one ear tuned to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Lizette had mumbled something about “freshening up” as soon as they entered the suite. She’d been quiet on the way back to Lodge, exchanging just a handful of words with him as he drove the forest path.

  Then she locked herself in the bathroom. The water had been running for twenty minutes.

  He turned toward the door. Did she regret what they’d done? He sure as hell didn’t. His wolf was relaxed—all the urgency and restlessness of the past five years buried under the knowledge that their mate was nearby. How many times had he longed to stand just like this, his mate in his lair, the bedsheets still bearing the sweet indentation of her body? Her scent already permeated the air—rich honey and crisp snow mixed with the darker notes of his own essence. Max had lived on the edge of frustration for so long, he’d forgotten what a gift it was to be at peace.

  The question now was, could he make it last?

  He’d taken a risk tonight. For years, he’d believed Lizette’s reluctance to accept the lux catena stemmed from being raised by humans—and narrow-minded ones at that. She rarely mentioned her foster parents, but he’d done enough detective work behind the scenes to know what kind of environment she endured in their home. He wanted to find those careless, selfish humans and remove them from the planet. His wolf longed to punish those who had hurt their mate.

  Only now he understood Lizette’s hurt had a deeper source—and one much closer to home. Her description of her parents filtered through his mind. “They were obsessed with each other. I got in the way.”

  No wonder she ran from him. She didn’t want to repeat her parents’ mistakes. Her voice had brimmed with pain when she told him she would rather go without children than make one feel unwanted.

  The thought of Lizette carrying his child filled his heart with a piercing ache. She would be a formidable mother—nothing like the female who’d given birt
h to her. Lizette knew better than anyone how it felt to be neglected. The image of her standing in front of the courthouse rose in his mind. She hadn’t even flinched when her foster mother handed her over and walked away.

  Because Lizette knew the woman wasn’t going to look back.

  She spent most of her life as an outsider—first as a werewolf child in a human world, and again as a teenager thrown in with an entirely different species. She’d even been uprooted from one coast and shipped to the other.

  In those early days, Max tried to give her a comfortable home, but premium cable and an American Express Centurion card were poor substitutes for parental guidance and affection. He’d done his best to provide the guidance, but he couldn’t offer her the affection she needed. Given the connection between them, it would have been inappropriate—not to mention confusing for Lizette.

  Besides, he wanted her to have all the normal experiences for someone her age. She didn’t need to know his wolf had staked its claim the moment they met. He’d hoped Lizette would come to him on her own when the time was right.

  He’d had no way of knowing she would disrupt his plans.

  The water cut off. Besides the drip, drip of the shower faucet, there was no other sound.

  He walked to the bathroom door. This close, he could hear her soft breaths and the faint shushing sound of cotton on skin.

  So eager to erase the evidence of what passed between them?

  He clenched his fists to stop himself from knocking. Had he miscalculated by telling her the truth about her Gift? Her parents ignored her. Her foster family used her as a meal ticket. Lizette had spent so long feeling unloved she couldn’t understand why anyone would want her for her. She’d said as much in the diner. “If what you say about Bloodsingers is true, you’d be a fool to pass up the chance to own one.”