Rutledge Werewolves 1: Scent of Passion (7 page)

“You
swear
you won’t touch me?” It wasn’t really him she was afraid of; she felt far more wary of herself and her own reactions. Sophie wasn’t certain spending the night sleeping half-naked next to this man was the soundest idea she ever entertained. She knew she felt fiercely attracted to him, and she knew from the glint in his eye he also had quite an attraction to her. If she could get his promise not to touch her, then it would help steel herself to not pounce upon him the second they came next to each other in her big bed.

“I have no doubt we will touch each other, but I swear not to initiate any sexual contact tonight. That is as good as I can do, love.”

Sophie and Artemais looked carefully at each other. Sophie knew this was her chance to prove to herself, and him, that she could deny her physical passions and keep herself in check.

“Okay,” she sighed, “let me get changed. You
do
have something decent to sleep in—don’t you?”

Artemais waved to his small backpack, sitting on the floor by the couch. He grinned wickedly.

“But of course.”

Sophie sighed again and went to her bedroom. She had a feeling the night was only beginning.

Chapter Seven

Artemais squelched the urge to fidget. The bedside clock Sophie had read 3:04 am, and he had a raging hard-on that refused to budge.

Sophie lay next to him, curled up against his body like a small kitten. All she needed to finish the image was a deep, throaty purr of satisfaction. She lay pressed ankle to head cuddling into his warmth, and it was slowly driving him mad. Every now and then she would murmur and rub against him, as if seeking a way to get even closer into him. Her legs shuffled restlessly, entwined between his own larger, thicker legs. Her arms circled his waist over his flat stomach, mere inches above his iron-hard erection.

After the first hour he had given up trying to keep her at arms’ length. Resigned, he stretched one arm out to hold her closer to his body in a more comfortable position for them both. The warmth of his body, or maybe just the fact that she now felt comforted and held, settled her enough that she could sleep deeply, totally unaware of the slow torture she put him through.

Artemais looked down at his woman. The pale, thin moonlight that wasn’t filtered through the midnight blue curtains was enough light for his wolf eyes to see the perfection of her skin. If anything his mind had dulled his memories of her perfect skin, satin soft and her pale blonde curls.

Self-preservation, obviously
, he grimaced.

The thought of having to lie chastely next to Sophie for even a week’s worth of nights was enough for him to moan in despair. His cock, hard and randy, primed to explode, ached and made him inch ever closer into madness. He dare not even touch himself for relief, for fear he
would
explode everywhere—and explaining to Sophie why he had jacked off in her bed was not a conversation he wished to hold. Everything about this woman drove him wild, to the very brink of his sanity.

Her soft curls. Her small sighs of sleepy happiness. The way she nuzzled the juncture between his neck and shoulder. The way she entwined her legs around his, as if she were a vine trying to climb him.

More distracting than all of these was that light, mossy scent that permeated his thoughts and would likely haunt his dreams for all eternity. With Sophie draped half over him, her scent transferred itself all over his skin. She, her happiness and her scent, penetrated his cells and into his very soul.

Everything combined to make him want to howl his frustrations to the nearly full moon, and take her over and over until he satisfied himself.

Yet underlying this driving need he felt to stake his claim on her were softer, more reserved feelings. He had always thought because Fate would choose his mate, they would simply breed together. He would never be unfaithful—it was not in him to be with more than one woman—yet never had he expected to have these strange feelings, feelings of protectiveness, possessiveness. He wanted to curl himself around his little Sophie and shield her from all the world’s evil and harm.

She tugged on his heartstrings, he realized. She made him want to stroke and soothe her, give her the moon and stars.

Artemais gently touched her silky curls. The short blonde curls reminded him of golden sunshine and sweet honey. Framing her face, one minute they lent her the air of a mischievous imp, yet in the space of a heartbeat they made her appear hot and sultry and the sexiest seductress he had ever encountered. She was a complex conundrum and he looked forward to getting to know her better.

Unfortunately he needed to be back at his ancestral home within the week. The night of the full moon drew closer, and he would need the night to run free and wild, but also to help hunt with his pack, to lead them, as his duty dictated, and as he had known all his life.

Artemais continued to stroke Sophie’s hair as he thought. He had just under a week. A week wherein he needed to show her how she loved him, addict her to his taste, admit to her that he was a werewolf and their son would be the next pack leader. On top of that, he needed them married before the baby was born—to secure any breach of technicalities in the future.

Great. No sweat.

Artemais had confidence in himself, yet even he, in this dark hour of the night, worried it might be too much, even for him. He knew he couldn’t make Sophie love him. He continued stroking her soft curls, thinking and thinking.

Refusing to become melancholy, he smiled as his natural optimism kicked in. They already had this strange bond he could not explain or describe. This electric feeling between them made him care about her, more than just the incredible fucking they shared. As he felt this strongly about their bond, it made a lot of sense that she felt the same for him.

Artemais pondered his strange thoughts as he stroked Sophie’s hair. True to his word, he kept his touch light and gentle. In no way did he attempt to wake her up with his sensuality. Sidetracked from his more melancholy thoughts, he began to fantasize about what to show her and do with her when he took her back home with him.

Groaning, he realized he had come full circle in his thoughts, back to his iron-hard cock. Giving in to his lust, he continued to fantasize, keeping his touch on Sophie light and gentle. More of a caress to soothe himself.

A short time later, she stirred in his arms. Worried she would cry foul of his gentleman’s promise he instantly stilled his hand. The soothing gesture had been giving him a sense of peace, but he didn’t want to argue with her over his honest intentions.

Sophie only partially woke up, murmuring something he could not catch.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t hear you.”

When Sophie buried her head further into the warmth of his neck, pulling him even closer into her embrace, he replaced his arm around her shoulders, drawing her nearer to his body.

The tiny straps of her green camisole had fallen down her shoulders hours ago, but her matching green flannel pajama pants still covered her decently—not that it hampered his memory or imagination any.

“I’m glad you’re here. You won’t leave me again. Will you, Artemais? I’m so tired of being alone,” she sleepily murmured.

In that moment, Artemais knew she was still asleep for all intents and purposes. No way would she reveal this more insecure side of herself while cognizant.

“No love. I won’t be leaving you, or the baby. We’re going to be a family.”

“Oh good,” she responded, instantly falling back into her deep, regular breaths of sleep.

Artemais pulled her closer. Even though his cock was still granite hard, as it had been since the instant he crawled into her bed, he felt more at ease. More at peace.
I’m falling in love with her
, he dimly thought. He lusted after her fiercely, but these softer feelings, these feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness might just be the beginning stages of love.

Artemais meant what he had said. He would not be leaving Sophie, nor their child. He wanted a huge part in raising their son. That was part of it. But as they had talked into the night he had found himself enchanted by Sophie and her laughter, her sense of humor, in her insistence that she would always be fine and her optimism that everything always would work for the best.

She had overcome a lot by herself and always felt up to the task of taking on more. She was strong, self-reliant and brave, definitely a most worthy mate for him.

Yet nestled amongst all those other feelings lay the desire to keep that smile on her face, on keeping her happy, safe view of the world protected. And overriding all of these feeling sat his immense desire for her body, to wallow in her scent and plunge himself balls-deep in her over and over again.

If Sophie wasn’t fighting him in her subconscious then half the battle was won. She might be stubborn and he knew she would fight him, fight their electric attraction while awake. But some deep, hidden part of her desired to trust him and follow him, wanted to cling and stay with him.

For now, it was enough.

Artemais settled back against the pillows, resigned to getting little sleep. He plotted his strategy for ensnaring his mate. His confidence fully restored with those sleepy, subconscious words from his True Mate, Artemais felt back in control and much, much happier.

Chapter Eight

Sophie woke up to the smell of bacon, sausage, and eggs cooking. She could hear Artemais whistling merrily in her kitchen, the radio tuned to some truly awful-sounding country and western music. Some man crooned on about love found but lost and a woman who betrayed him and broke his poor, aching heart.

For a moment, Sophie buried her head in the pillows, determined to ignore the large, sexy beast who threatened to take over her life. Her long-held independence quickly shot through her system.

Artemais was simply a man. A drop-dead gorgeous man, who made her pulse pound and the blood rush through her system, but still merely a man. She had learned a lot about him the previous night, his likes and dislikes, his deep and abiding love for his brothers and his absolute concrete certainty that they should raise their child together.

Even so, Sophie didn’t believe
his
certainty to be enough to base a life together on.

People have made much more from far less
, her inner demon taunted.

The tempting thought of following him back to his house, seeing how he normally lived hung before her, all shiny and bright. Squelching the dream, Sophie took a few deep, even breaths. It was far too early in the morning to contemplate such things. Easier for her if she simply took the day one step at a time.

And that first step would have to be out of this bed and into some real clothes. She wasn’t sure she would be able to resist the reaction if she went out into the kitchen to greet her guest first thing in the morning only in her pajamas.

* * * * *

Artemais whistled happily to the twangy tune of the country western music station he had tuned into. He could never bear to hear people chattering to each other first thing in the morning, only to be interrupted once every fifteen minutes by a song.

He enjoyed the mornings, the fresh, cool air, the scent of the rising morning sun in the dewy breeze. Mornings always gave him a healthy appetite, and by the amount of pasta and salad Sophie had put away the previous night, he felt more than willing to bet his mate had a decent appetite on her as well, and would be equally hungry when she finally roused.

Just as the kettle boiled, and he pulled the last of the eggs from the skillet, he heard the bedroom door creak open.

Sophie came out in jeans and bare feet, a well-worn t-shirt completing her outfit. With her curls wildly ruffled, she looked adorable, as if she had merely run her hands through them.

She looked so sexy and so edible he held himself still as if she were the prey and he the predator. The urge to rush over to her, drag her into his arms and kiss her wildly, hungrily was nearly overpowering.

Artemais swallowed.

Firmly.

Discreetly clearing his throat, he pondered briefly which morning pleasantry to begin with, when Sophie beat him to the punch.

“Do you always listen to country and western music, or do you only torture everyone like this in the mornings?”

Perplexed, his brow furrowed.

“Pardon?”

“It’s so damn depressing for first thing in the morning. Anyone would think listening to it that there wasn’t a woman alive who could be faithful and true. If those bacon and eggs didn’t smell so divine I’d have to pull rank and state `my house, my rules’, but lucky for you I’m too starved to bitch about your taste in music.”

Artemais grinned. Apparently his Sophie felt a tad grumpy first thing in the mornings.

“The music didn’t wake you up, did it?” he asked, concerned, as he poured her orange juice.

He tried desperately not to chuckle as he saw her looking at the pot of coffee so covetously she fairly turned green from envy.

“No,” she grumped, “but I would
really
appreciate some food. The baby is definitely hungry, she must have eaten all my spare supplies overnight. And what baby wants, she’d better get.”