The Burning Claw: Book 10, The Grey Wolves Series (18 page)

“No.”

“Bethany, take it back. Now.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared back at him defiantly. “No. It’s my body and I decide who touches it. I don’t have to endure unwanted hands on me anymore. And your hands are most definitely unwanted. Now,” —she glanced at the clock again— “I have somewhere to be.” She turned on her heel and marched toward the door. Her back was ramrod straight and her shoulders pulled back proudly.

“What do you mean you have somewhere to be? Where are you going?” Drake hurried after her.

“Out and none of your business.”

“It is my business. You are my mate. I have every right—”

“NO,” she growled, turning swiftly as she opened the door. “You gave up your rights to me when you decided I was incapable of knowing what I wanted or needed because I was too young-minded. I’d rather be without you than to be made to feel like a naughty child for expressing my desires. I would rather be alone and believe me, Drake, that is something my simple, young mind can comprehend. I’ve got alone down to an art form.”

The door slammed behind her and he was left staring at the spot where she’d been. What had just happened? How had things gone from him touching the marks on her leg to her forbidding his touch and then leaving? And where the hell was she going and with whom?

It took a strength he didn’t know he possessed to open the door and walk out calmly. He followed her trail until it ended at the library and there he stood, careful to stay out of the way of any vents that might carry his scent inside.

She was angry with him, fine. But she wasn’t leaving him. Not when she hadn’t even given them a real chance. If he had to follow her around like a miserable puppy, then that’s what he’d do.

Chapter 9

“Never underestimate the strength of solidarity found in a pack of women. It can put a pack of wolves to shame any day of the week. Poor, poor, little male fur balls. The Great Luna help anyone that hurts one of our girls. We will de-man you, de-fur you, de-pride you, and de-anything else we can think of to remind you that we will not be silent, passive mates bending to your every whim. Get over yourselves, dudes. Contrary to what you think, you are not all that. You’re just flea-infested, overbearing, pompous jackasses. Hot? Yes. Sexy? Yes. Irresistible? Sorry, but no. And because we care so much, we will gladly bring you down several notches from the high horses you sometimes put yourselves on. Courtesy of your friendly female pack leader.” ~Jen

J
en laid back and stretched out her legs, hanging them over the armrest of the loveseat. Her long, blonde hair flowed down over the side of the opposite armrest. This was a familiar pose for the she-wolf when she was in the library hanging with her friends. Tonight, however, it was friend, singular. Jacque occupied the other couch and there was an emptiness to the room without Sally’s presence.

“So is Bethany okay, then?” Jacque asked after Jen brought her up to speed on the evening’s drama.

“I think so. She won’t be scarred for life or anything. Although teaching her what and how to use a tampon was not one of my best moments.”

“Well, it was something practical and non-sexual, so it’s understandable that you wouldn’t give it your best effort,” Jacque quipped.

“Shut up, Red. Like you could have done any better,” Jen glowered. “Speaking of the new she-wolf, I invited her tonight.”

“And I’m sorry I’m late.” A sweet voice came from the doorway. Their heads whipped around as Bethany closed the door behind her and then turned to stare back at them.

“Better late than too early,” Jen sang. “Come in, come in. Join us if you dare.”

“If I dare? Are you two planning a murder or hatching some evil plan to take over the world?” Bethany joked, as she came further in and took the empty chair between the couches.

“Been there, done that.” Jacque waved her off. “We’ve moved on to ways to torment our mates.”

“Well, that is a lesson I’m totally on board with. How can I help?” Bethany asked, rubbing her hands together eagerly.

Jen flung herself up and spun on her butt to face the newcomer. “What did that future rug do?” she growled. She knew her eyes were glowing because Bethany’s brow rose and her mouth dropped open. If Drake had hurt her, Jen was going to castrate him, without anesthesia.

Jacque sat up as well and faced her. “Did he hurt you? I mean, there’s no way he would physically hurt you. It’s engrained in their DNA to be unable to strike their mate, but stupid wasn’t bred out of them, so hurting us emotionally, that, they are totally capable of.”

Jen could tell that Bethany needed to talk about it. There was a burning ache in her eyes and yet she wasn’t sure if she should.

“I don’t want you guys to think I’m stupid.”

Jen rolled her eyes. “Girl, please. You have a vagina. We’d never think you’re stupid.”

“What,” Jacque quickly interjected, “my weird friend is trying to say is—”

Jen interrupted. “Hoes before bros. Chicks before dicks. Sisters before misters. Girls before…” Jen paused. “Well, whatever rhymes with girls, you get the picture.”

“Wow,” Jacque said with wide eyes. “Well, if you weren’t scared before, you probably are now. Jen has no filter. As in nada, zero, completely absent of.”

“Like that needed to be explained,” Jen chastised. “Now, back to the future eunuch werewolf. What did he do?” she asked again.

“We had a fight.”

“About?” Jacque prompted the obviously reluctant girl.

“Touching.”

“Did that ass touch you without your consent? If he so much as laid a fingertip on a body part that you did not authorize, I will—”

“No,” Bethany interrupted Jen quickly. “No, in fact, it’s the exact opposite. He won’t touch me.” A single tear slid down Bethany’s face and it tore at Jen’s heart.

“What do you mean?”

“He thinks of me like a child, a little girl, because I don’t have knowledge of the physical aspects of a relationship. I mean, I know a little. It’s not like the vampires didn’t talk…a little too vividly at times. I understand the mechanics of how babies are made but—”

“You’re unknowledgeable about foreplay,” Jen offered.

“Since I don’t even know what foreplay means, yes, that.”

“Well, my little blossoming flower, you have come to the right place,” Jen grinned.

“Good grief,” Jacque flung herself back on the couch and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is going to be—”

“Beyond awesome,” Jen interjected. “You are my greatest dream, Bethy-bug. A blank slate. A completely uninfluenced specimen.”

“Dude, she’s not a freaking lab experiment,” Jacque pointed out.

“Red, shut it. You’ve had your moment. You were like practically dead. Everyone worried over you. Blah, blah, blah, Let me have mine.”

Bethany looked at Jacque. “Should I be scared now?”

Jacque nodded. “If I didn’t think she’d chase you, and be totally hot and bothered by it, I’d tell you to run.”

“What?” Bethany laughed.

“Don’t mind her,” Jen said. “She’s just bitter that she can’t be as adventurous as I am in the bedroom. She’s not able to let go of her inhibitions and truly take pleasure in married, mated, whatever, physical bliss.”

“And how would you know?” Jacque challenged. “Have you been watching me and Fane?”

“Yes, you’re totally vanilla.”

“Jen you have better be joking or I swear I’ll dye your skin blue,” Jacque turned to Bethany. “She has an irrational fear of Smurfs all of a sudden.”

“Well, if you had some weird sexual dream about your mate and that female hussie Smurf, then you’d have a hang-up too,” Jen snapped.

Bethany was practically rolling as she held her stomach. Jen was glad they were easing her pain, but she still wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on between her and Drake.

“Enough with the deflection, Jacque. Bethany,” —she snapped her fingers at her— “spill your guts. What happened between you and the berserker?”

Bethany took a deep breath and then dove in. “I really like him. I mean, I know it’s only been a week, but there’s something about him that connects with me.”

“He’s your soul mate. Of course, you connect,” Jacque told her. Jen shushed her and motioned for Bethany to continue.

“Not for a moment have I been scared of him or felt uncomfortable. In fact, it’s sort of weird but up until the whole period thing, I’ve never really even been embarrassed or shy in front of him. I feel like…like he’s an extension of myself, and I trust him like I trust myself. I don’t understand it, but I lived with vampires for eleven years, so I know fear. I lived and breathed it every day. I feel just the opposite around Drake that I felt with the vampires. With Drake, I feel safe, protected. He shelters me. And, well, I mean he’s really good looking and I really like his body.”

“I love her bluntness,” Jen said absently but then quieted.

“And because of those things, I want to be close to him. But the only thing I’ve longed for in my life was my freedom. It’s all I thought about. Every moment of every day. It was a desperate cry of my soul and nothing, no desire, had ever surpassed it until Drake. I crave him. I want to feel him. It’s like his touch would be able to quench my thirst. It’s intense, but I accept it. I even welcome it. For once, I have something I never ever thought I would have—a future. I thought I was going to die in those tunnels with those monsters. And now, now, I actually have hope.”

The room was silent when she finished talking until Jacque finally spoke up. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay,” Jen said, suddenly all business. “You said he won’t touch you because he doesn’t think you know what all that could lead to, correct?”

She nodded.

“He’s got some hang-up that if he touches you, it’s like touching a seven-year-old girl.”

“Ew,” Jacque groaned. “Don’t say that.”

“No,” Jen smacked Jacque. “I’m not saying he’s a perv or anything. I’m saying he sees her mental state as innocent, like a child’s. I’m sure he doesn’t actually think of her as a child.”

“I’m not seven,” Bethany said adamantly.

“Sweetie, with tattas like those” —Jen motioned to her chest— “it’s quite apparent that you aren’t seven. You’re what, a D, a double D? I don’t remember what size bra I gave you. Point is, you’ve got goods and he’s noticing them. But he can’t reconcile the goods with the young girl who was taken eleven years ago and kept from being a part of a world where she would have matured naturally and learned about these things. You see?”

“I guess. But I don’t feel like a young girl. I feel old.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. You’ve been through more crap than most people will ever face in a lifetime. So in some ways you are very mature. We just need little Drakey to see that.”

“Don’t call him little Drakey,” Jacque said dryly. “Ever.”

Jen pressed on ignoring the redhead’s comment. “So let’s start your education. Let’s get you knowledgeable so that Drake no longer feels like a creeper around you.”

“Again, ew,” Jacque said.

“And, you will be able to decide, after learning about these things, whether or not you’re truly ready to complete the Blood Rites and be joined with him. It might be that after we unveil the mysteries of the sexual world, you decide that you need some time, like
years,
to process it. If that’s the case, then Drake will have to wait those years to be intimate with you, because, sorry, honey, in my crib, people have to seal the mated deal before they get to roll around in the sheets.”

“Okay, stop.” Jacque held up her hand. “I swear your analogies get more and more ridiculous.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have my mad communication skills.”

“Yes, I’m totally jealous. I’m jealous of your bedroom activities. I’m jealous of your ability to spew BS. I’m jealous of your black-op skills, your anagram making skills, and, hell, I’m even jealous of your ability to give birth to a baby and not die. Oh please Jen, teach me your ways,” Jacque pled in a breathy, desperate voice. “Please, oh wise one, share your knowledge and skills.”

Jen stared at Jacque with a single brow raised and then turned back to Bethany. “Ignore her,” Jen told Bethany. “And I know you’ve got questions. So let’s go.”

“I do have some questions. Drake said some things when we were arguing. He asked me to name things that married or mated couples do. Of course, all I can think of is kissing and sex. But there’s obviously more. I need to know what that ‘more’ is.” Bethany said. Her face was red and Jen could tell she was hesitant.

Jen looked at Bethany, really looked at her. She was truly dying to learn. She wanted to be with Drake so much that she was willing to sit there with two women she barely knew and talk about things as intimate as love making and all that went with it. Drake was a lucky son of a wolf and Jen was going to happily point it out to him the next time she saw him.
Stupid werewolf butthead
, she growled to herself.

Well, if Bethany wanted to learn, then Jen would not deprive her of the opportunity. “Does Drake make you feel all tingly in places you aren’t supposed to talk about?”

Jacque choked on the drink she was taking, and Jen patted her on the back while still looking at Bethany.

“Yes,” she answered.

“And, you aren’t sure what to do about the tingling because you don’t know what those things are?” And with that question, the dam broke.

With a huge sigh her mouth opened and out flowed the words that Jen was sure had nearly been choking her. “Exactly. Drake makes me happy. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel things that I don’t understand. I like when he touches me—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Jen interrupted at the same time Jacque said, “Stop there.”

“I thought you said he doesn’t touch you?” Jen asked as she leaned forward and rested her forearms on her knees.

“He holds my hand, he puts his arms around me, he touches my face. There’s no pain when he touches me. But he only touches me certain places. My thigh, where the markings are, for example, he can’t touch me there apparently.”

“Oh, no the markings are like catnip to a cat. Their wolf sees them and all he can think of, at that point, is that you’re his and he wants to claim you. It becomes primal, which is harder for him to control. Okay, so we’ve established he hasn’t touched you, touched you?” Jen asked.

“Touched me, touched me?” Bethany questioned.

“She means has he touched you anywhere that makes you gasp, groan, or turn into a shameless hussy begging for more?” Jacque asked before Jen could answer.

Jen looked over at her best friend. “Wow, being nearly dead changed you.”

Jacque shrugged. “It’ll do that to a person.”

“I feel sort of like that when he kisses me,” Bethany admitted. “I just feel like there’s more. I want more and I don’t understand exactly what that means and he won’t tell me. Every time I ask him, he says that I’m not ready to know those things. He treats me like I’m fragile.”