Matthew’s lips tightened. “I don’t care,” he said after a couple of minutes, almost like he was speaking to himself. “If you blow me up or something, I’ll take it.”
With that, he crossed the distance between us in a couple of quick strides and hauled me into his arms, leaning down to bury his face in my hair.
Blow him up? Did he think my magic worked like a grenade launcher or something? I only wished.
But it didn’t matter, because getting him to stop was the last thing on my mind. I should’ve done something to stop him, for my own sanity, but he wasn’t doing anything aggressive or sexual: just holding me, the muscles in his arms rigid with tension, like he expected me to be yanked away any second.
My face was pressed into his chest. Every ragged breath, every beat of his heart, echoed in my cheek and sent little tremors through me. My arms were trapped at my sides, so I didn’t have to choose whether or not I’d embrace him too.
All I had to do was feel.
I closed my eyes and breathed him in. When I’d first gone to his room after being let out of the basement, he’d smelled like danger, like alpha and sex and threats.
Now he smelled like safety. Like a haven from the rest of the world, a place where I could rest.
I wasn’t going to cry. No alpha deserved my tears, dammit.
“I’m sorry, Arik, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his breath ruffling my hair and tickling my ear. “He should never have been able to get near you. I should’ve protected you. I’m so, so fucking sorry.”
The tears started to leak out after all, dampening his shirt. He didn’t have anything to apologize for — I was a big, bad shaman and able to take care of myself ninety-nine percent of the time. And when it turned out I couldn’t, in that particular instance, he’d ripped Parker to shreds for me anyway. Win-win.
But it felt so fucking good to hear. I sniffled a little.
Of course he heard me, and he reached up and petted my hair, stroking me like someone would pet a cat.
And yeah, it worked on me just like on any other cat. I leaned into him, stifling the rumbles that wanted to rise up out of my chest. At least I was standing up, so I couldn’t roll over and show my belly and meow.
“It wasn’t your fault. I was going to go after him anyway,” I mumbled into his chest. His alpha hearing could handle that too; I wasn’t going to move. I was too comfortable right where I was. “If I’d done that without any backup, I’d be — I wouldn’t be here right now. He resisted my magic. I don’t know how, but I couldn’t fight him at all.”
“Talked to Colin Kimball about it on the phone a few minutes ago,” Matthew said. And there was that little emphasis on Colin’s name again, like he hated even saying it. “He confiscated Taft’s possessions. There were a few — amulets, I guess? Little cloth bundles, with instructions that were in this shorthand we couldn’t understand.”
“Spell bags. Yeah.” Well, that explained a lot. I’d been wondering how Parker had managed to time Tyler’s freaky poison-claws and his own resistance to magic so perfectly without having a shaman along. Sounded like he’d had that fucker from his allied pack make him a few tricks to take with him. It wasn’t easy to craft those things, but both of the effects I’d observed were definitely possible for someone with skill.
“Right,” Matthew said. “Those. I guess he had a few more for emergencies. Kimball asked me to see if you wanted them.”
I shuddered. Yes, I did, because turning down a chance to analyze someone else’s clever magic was fucking stupid, but…I’d have to touch something that shaman had touched. And examine the textures of his magic, something as intimate as touching a person. And I couldn’t do it.
“Tell him to put them in a metal drum or something, buried in salt, douse them in gasoline, and light them on fire. And then throw the whole drum away without touching the contents.”
“You can tell him yourself when you go back to the Kimball territory.”
I jerked my head away from his chest and stared up at him. “What the fuck? I’m not going back there. Are you trading me to him for something, or — I’m not going to just meekly let you —”
“No!” Matthew sounded as aghast as I felt, and his eyes went wide with shock. “Fuck no. I’m not trading you — no. Of fucking course not!”
“Then what the fuck did you mean?” I snapped.
His lips were too close. His arms were around me, one hand in my hair again. If he tilted my head a little, we’d be kissing.
“I meant Kimball sounded like he’d be seeing you soon,” he said. “So I — assumed. I mean. You two know each other a lot better than I’d thought.”
It probably should’ve twigged much sooner than it did — but then, I wasn’t primed to expect men to give a shit about me after they’d fucked around with me once.
But the men I fucked around with weren’t werewolves, and they sure as fuck weren’t alphas. Possessive, overbearing alphas who thought they owned anyone they came in, on, or around. Any preposition would do, really — because they were alphas.
“Who I know and where I go isn’t any of your business.” Fuck. Here I’d been thinking Matthew might really care, and instead? He was letting his alpha instincts and his dick lead him around. I wrenched myself out of his arms and took a step back. “I’m leaving here this morning. That’s all you need to know.”
For a second, something like panic flashed across Matthew’s face before it settled into that neutral expression that always meant he was keeping something off the surface. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not before you take this spell off. That’s not negotiable. The Armitage pack won’t ever come after you. In fact, you can think of us as allies after what you did last night, helping with the spell and saving Nate’s life. You don’t need to keep me on a leash anymore.”
Don’t make the obvious dog joke, don’t, don’t do it… “Maybe I should get you a muzzle to go with it,” I snarled. Oops.
Matthew’s expression went from neutral to grim. But he didn’t lash out in return, like I’d expected him to — like I’d been hoping he would, so that I could have a reason to be a bitch.
“Take the spell off, Arik. That’s all I’m asking of you. And it’s not very much to ask, considering I’d never done a fucking thing to you, and the only reason you put it on me in the first place was to help Sam fucking Kimball and Jonathan fucking nutcase Hawthorne. In case you’d forgotten.”
Ouch. Fucking ouch. I hid my wince with difficulty.
“I can’t.”
His face flushed a furious red. “You mean you won’t —”
“No, seriously,” I yelled over him, “it’s not that I won’t. I can’t. I already removed the spell the night I escaped from here. It’s gone. Has been for days.”
Matthew stared at me. “No, the fuck you did.”
“Yes, I did!” What was with no one believing me about this? Fuck! “I removed the spell,” I said slowly, enunciating each syllable with exaggerated care. “It’s fucking gone. I can’t remove it any more than it’s already been removed.”
The crimson in his cheeks faded to an ashy white. “You didn’t. I don’t feel any— You’re lying,” he stammered out, his voice hoarse.
My vision went sizzling red. Lying? After everything that had happened the night before, he couldn’t believe one fucking word out of my mouth?
“Have Nate examine you if you won’t take my word for it,” I snapped. “He’ll be able to see it’s gone. He was able to see it when it was there, right? And anyway, I’d think the fact that you don’t feel sick when you’re not around me, and I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re not fucking in love with me would be a pretty big tip-off?”
“Yeah,” he said softly after a second. “Yeah, I guess it would.”
“Right! So stop being an asshole about it. I was nice enough to take that spell off before I left, even though I was still a prisoner and it would’ve been totally reasonable of me to leave it just out of principle. But I
didn’t want to be tied to you anymore.”
Matthew sucked in a breath hard, like I’d punched him in the solar plexus, and what little color was left in his face drained away. “Okay. I can’t blame you for that. Not after — not in general. And I believe you, for what it’s worth.” He swallowed, and he uncrossed his arms. His hands clenched at his sides. “Good luck, Arik.”
He turned abruptly on his heel and strode away down the path, back toward the pack house and out of sight.
I stared after him, eyes fixed on the empty air where he’d been.
No. Fuck no. He did not get to walk away like that, after having sex with me and killing Parker and carrying me to bed and growling at Colin, and holding me like that with his hand tangled in my hair and just being…Matthew. Good luck, Arik? Fuck him.
I sprinted after him, more angry than I’d ever been in my life.
No way was he getting away with that.
Chapter 17
Fuck Me, or I’ll Find Someone Who Will
“Hey!” I shouted. “Hey, come back here!”
Matthew was already way, way down the path, walking as fast as he could without outright running. What, he couldn’t wait to get away from me? Good luck, Arik, and then making his escape so he wouldn’t have to give me another thought?
I chased after him, my feet pounding on the path and sending up muddy spatters.
“Hey!” He finally turned, his face drawn and wary.
I slammed into his chest with my hands outstretched, palms flat. He rocked back on his heels but didn’t even stumble, which only pissed me off more.
“What the fuck, Matthew? What the fuck? You just wish me good luck, and that’s it?”
“What more do you want from me? Arik — what the — stop it —” I whacked away at him, pounding my fists on his chest and then swinging for his mouth. He ducked back, and my knuckles glanced off his jaw.
Quicker than I could match, he caught my wrists and held them out to the sides while I tried to kick him in the shins.
“I want you to stop being such —” I tried to kick him again, and he shoved me back. “— a fucking dick! I saved Nate’s life! I saved your life! We had sex, and all I get is good luck, go live with Colin fucking Kimball?”
And then I got to see what Matthew looked like when his self-control finally evaporated — not from being insane, or enchanted, but just him. His dilated eyes glowed gold as he roared, “We had sex, and then you fucking ran away! To Colin fucking Kimball, who apparently wants you to go live with him, so I’m trying to let you get what you seem to want, which is getting far away from me!”
I stopped, stunned, breathing hard, my wrists still trapped in his big hands. He was panting too. A flock of startled birds streamed out of the trees by the path and fluttered off, twittering in anger.
“You think I should’ve stayed? So that you and Ian and your council could decide how you wanted to keep me prisoner?”
Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes bleak. “No. I don’t. I think you did exactly what you had to do. I wish I’d given you a good reason to trust me, but I know I didn’t. That’s not your fault. I’m just saying — Arik, I’m not the one who’s trying to get away from you. It’s the other way around. You’re acting like I’m trying to get rid of you.”
“No,” I snapped, “you’re acting like I can’t leave fast enough and you don’t give a fuck what happens to me after I go. I don’t have anywhere to go! Do you want me to — what, sign up to be the Kimball shaman and hop on Colin’s knot —”
“Not unless you want me to start this pack war all over again,” Matthew snarled, his teeth bared and his eyes wild and blazing with fury — and something else, something that made me suck in a breath, my cock hardening and my whole body tensing. “You’re not going to fucking give yourself to him because you feel like you don’t have another choice. You want to be a pack shaman? Then stay here. But fuck that, Arik, you’re not selling yourself to Kimball just so you aren’t on your own —”
There was only one answer to that.
I flung myself forward and pressed up on my toes, molding my mouth to his and kissing him with rough desperation.
Matthew cut off with a moan and hauled me into his arms, his grip on me just this side of painful.
Kissing wasn’t enough. I burned for him, I needed him everywhere, and I practically climbed him, trying to get my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, my fingers digging bruises into him and my tongue spearing into his mouth.
He grabbed my ass, hoisting me up, and staggered off the path and between the trees.
My back hit a trunk a little too hard, but I didn’t care; now there was something to keep me in place as he thrust between my legs, his cock pressing against the cleft of my ass and making me squirm and moan for more.
“Fuck,” I gasped as he tore his mouth away from mine and worked his way down my neck, sucking marks into it that I hoped would last for days. “Fuck me, Matthew, now, if you don’t fuck me right this fucking instant I’ll go get Colin to do it after all — oh, gods —” I let out a throaty groan as he squeezed my ass hard, his fingers pressing between my cheeks and putting not enough pressure on my hole.
I looked around wildly, as much as I could with Matthew’s head buried in the curve of my neck, and saw only muddy redwood needles and bits of bark.
Fuck that. Maybe I was a wild animal part of the time, but I had standards, and those needles poking me in intimate places — absolutely not.
Magic. What was the point of being a shaman if I couldn’t use a little strategic magic? Matthew worked a hand up under my shirt and thumbed over one of my nipples, and I clung to his shoulders and tried to focus.
Soft. It had to be soft. I sent my power out through my feet, reaching into the ground and rearranging the fabric of the forest floor. Redwood needles trembled, rose, and danced into position, weaving themselves into a blanket of sorts, with all their sharp little ends pointed down.
I shoved at Matthew, using the leverage of the tree. “On the ground,” I gasped. “Not up against a tree.”
“The ground’s too —” He turned his head, stared, and said wonderingly, “Never mind. Fuck. Shamans are awesome.”
“Fuck yes we are,” I growled. “Now put me on the ground and fuck me.”
Matthew turned back. His eyes had gone full alpha, and it sent a shiver through me that made the blanket I’d woven whisper in sympathy.
He grinned, kissed me, and spun me around and down, landing on top of me with an oof, his arms underneath to cushion the impact. I bucked up against him, our cocks straining through two pairs of jeans, both too much friction and not enough.
I’d been holding back my shift, but I let it out, my claws bursting from my fingers. I tore Matthew’s shirt to ribbons, ripping it off and letting the pieces flutter away in the breeze.
“Stop,” he said, laughing and catching my wrists again as I reached for his jeans. “I’ll take them off the old-fashioned way. No claws below the belt.”
Well, that was fair enough, but… “If you want to enforce that, then take your fucking clothes off already!”
He scrambled to do as he was told, pulling away to rip off his jeans and then stumbling from foot to foot as they caught on his boots. I yanked off my own clothes, falling back and sprawling spread-eagled and naked on my makeshift forest blanket.
Matthew stopped and stared, his jeans hanging from one hand, the front of his boxers barely containing his erection. My mouth watered. Gods, but alphas really did have their good points. His chest was strong and broad, with thick dark hair in the center of it and spreading down in a line to the waistband of his boxers.
I wanted those thighs between my legs.
I wanted what was between his legs between my legs.
His gaze dropped right where I wanted his cock to go, and his breathing sped up. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He looked up again, meeting my eyes. “You know exactly how gorgeous you are, don’t you?”
&nb
sp; Well, yes. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice to hear. I couldn’t help preening, tipping my head back to show off the long line of my throat, and wrapping a hand around my cock to give it a teasing stroke.
That backfired. I mainly teased myself, and I had to bite my lip to keep in a whimper.
Matthew tossed his jeans aside, rid himself of his boxers, and — stalked me. That was the only word for the way he approached, his hands out at his sides as if he was getting in position to grapple with his prey, his gaze avid and possessive and hungry.
The nape of my neck tingled, my fight-or-flight response activated in a way that made my erection agonizingly hard. My ass clenched, the muscles there spasming with how much I wanted to be filled.
Matthew knelt between my legs, still moving slowly, still without looking away from my eyes. “If I fuck you, I’m knotting you,” he said, very low. “Tell me you want it, Arik.”
I didn’t respond to commands from alphas. Fuck that. But his voice reverberated through me, the vibrations calling to my instincts in a way no other alpha had managed to achieve.
“Please,” I gasped. “Yes, please, knot me, I want it, I want it so badly —”
Matthew cut me off with a kiss, taking my mouth and making it his. He shoved my thighs apart and settled between them, the head of his cock nudging behind my balls and rubbing over my hole, which was almost aching from how desperate I was to get him inside me.
I wrapped my arms around his back and lost myself in heat and pressure and want, more want than I’d felt in — possibly ever. Fuck, but I needed this. To submit for once, to give in and let someone else give me what I craved. Matthew teased me with a finger.
A dry finger. Fuck, I could fix that. I summoned more magic, complicated magic this time, drawing on the formulas inked into my arms. My power snaked down into the center of my body, leaving my ass perfectly clean and as slick as if I’d used a bottle of lube.
Matthew’s finger pressed in, and he hissed and jerked it back. “Magic,” I whispered. “All good.”
Captive Mate (Mismatched Mates Book 2) Page 17