The Road to Redemption (23 page)

He gave her a
ride back to the pack house. She sat behind him, lightly holding
his waist. The feel of her body, so close to his, played havoc with
his concentration. When he took a corner too sharply, she asked if
he was concussed.

“No, my head’s
harder than that.” He didn’t add that the problem was his pants
were too tight. Their brush with danger had excited him; a natural
response, or so he tried to convince himself.

As Sam
prepared for bed that night, she paused in front of the mirror and
experimentally, prodded the bruises that adorned her body. None
were serious and would likely fade by morning, but they were still
tender to the touch. She could have been hurt a lot worse if Damien
hadn’t pulled her out of the way of the greatest danger.

She relived
how it had felt to be held tightly in his arms, her head pressed to
his chest. Being protected, sheltered, was an unusual experience
for her. It had felt…good. Not that she wanted to be treated with
kid gloves, she assured herself, but once in a while, with the
right person, it was a nice change.

Unbidden an
image of Damien appeared. She envisioned him standing behind her,
his hands lightly holding her shoulders as he pressed tender kisses
to her bruised flesh. What would it be like to feel his hands
stroking her body? She narrowed her eyes and tried to imagine him
removing her hot pink bra, replacing the cups with his palms. His
hands would be work-roughened, manly, and he’d demand a response
from her. The idea made her shiver in anticipation.

The right
person. Was it Damien? Her wolf seemed to think so. And the pack
liked him. He was good with the older members and patient with
Chris. He’d risked himself to save her tonight, and she’d actually
missed him while on patrol. A smile widened her mouth and stayed
there as she climbed into bed and shut off the light.

“We have to what?” Damien looked at Sam, sure he’d
misheard.

“Pick apples.
Jonah is going to make us apple pie for dessert tonight.”

“That’s what I
thought you said.” He looked back at the newel post he was
tightening. The banister for the staircase to the second floor was
too loose for safety so he’d toenailed a few screws into it. “Why
can’t you buy them from the store?”

“I could, but
we have that old apple tree in the backyard and it’s loaded with
fruit. Plus, they’re free. And it’s fun.”

“Fun?” Damien
wasn’t in the mood for fun. Dante had eluded him last night and, as
a result, he’d spent much of today waiting and watching for the
bastard to appear.

He gave the
post a final tug before turning to give Sam his full attention.
That she was obviously anticipating the chore with glee surprised
him. Apple picking didn’t fall under any Alpha duties that he was
aware of, yet her eyes were definitely sparkling, the unusual
violet shade seeming lighter than normal.

“Of course
picking apples is fun!” She gave him a look as if he’d said he
didn’t know Harleys were the best ride. “Picking apples is a fall
tradition. And even in the middle of the city, it does you good to
‘get back to nature’ for a while.”

“If you say
so.” He didn’t try to hide the doubt in his voice and she cocked
her head to the side.

“You’ve never
picked apples?”

“Nope. I’ve
led a deprived life.” He began to pack away the tools he’d been
using.

“Deprived or
depraved?”

Damien
straightened as he heard the teasing tone in her voice. So they
were back to where they’d been. Apparently sleep had mellowed her
mood. Good. Tension between the Alpha and Beta wasn’t healthy for
the pack. The fact that he found bantering with her enjoyable was
merely a side benefit.

A smile
twitched the corner of his mouth. “Which do you think?”

Sam shook her
head. “I’m not touching that one. Come on.” She headed to the
backdoor and Damien followed, her happy mood causing his own to
lighten.

A large apple
tree stood near the back of the property. It was gnarled with age
and leaned precariously towards the fence, almost half the branches
hung over the alley that ran behind the pack house. He’d noticed
the tree before, only vaguely registering that it was an apple
tree. As he examined it, sure enough, he could spot apples
festooning the branches and the ground below.

With his foot,
he nudged one of the apples that lay neglected on the ground. It
was decidedly squishy and a small swarm of fruit flies arose from
it, protesting his disturbance of their home. They swirled around
his foot for a moment before returning to feed on the fruit. This
was going to be dessert? “A lot of these are rotten.”

Sam was
placing a ladder against the fence. She glanced at the ground and
shrugged. “We don’t spray for bugs so yeah, we lose some, but there
are plenty of good ones still on the tree.”

Damien didn’t
argue the point. It was her tree so she must know what she was
doing. “Do you want me to go up?” He gestured towards the
ladder.

“No. I’ll go.
The higher branches are pretty thin. They’d never support your
weight.” She rested one foot on the lower rung of the ladder. “You
steady the ladder for me, and hand me the baskets.”

He wanted to
protest, but as he studied the tree from the ground, he recognized
the truth of her statement. While he was stronger and taller, this
was one case when that wasn’t an advantage. The upper branches
were
skinny things. Resigning himself to the role of
assistant, he positioned himself at the base of the ladder holding
it steady while she ascended. Once she was seated on a branch, he
climbed a couple of rungs and stretched to hand her a basket.

“You must have
some monkey in you,” he commented, watching her as she nimbly moved
from branch to branch.

“I love
heights.” She grinned down at him before continuing to pluck the
fruit.

In no time,
the first basket was filled and she handed it down to him and
accepted a new one. She began edging out farther and farther on the
branches trying to reach the fruit.

“Be careful.”
He felt the urge to caution her. The branches were beginning to
bend even under her slight weight.

“I’m fine.
I’ve been climbing this tree my entire life. It’s like walking
through my bedroom; I can do it with my eyes closed.” As she spoke,
she leaned out, one apple mere inches from her fingertips.

“Sam…” Damien
issued a warning.

She chuckled
at his caution. The tree was old but sturdy. Glancing down, she
noticed the concern in his face. It created a warm bubble of
happiness inside her. Just like last night, he was concerned for
her; it was a nice feeling.

See? He
cares.
Her wolf prompted her once again.

She looked
down again. Only a faint bit of bruising remained on his face from
where he’d been hit. Even with a werewolf’s enhanced healing,
injuries were still possible. For a while, she’d even wondered if
he’d had a concussion.

“Sam…” Damien
began what was likely another warning, but he didn’t get to finish
his statement.

There was
cracking sound, she shouted in surprise, and the entire branch
broke under her weight.

“Damn!” In the
nick of time, she grabbed a branch over her head and swung her legs
around it, keeping herself from falling. Unfortunately, the branch
she’d been on hadn’t fared as well and was now on the ground,
surrounded by several baskets worth of apples. She hoped they
weren’t too bruised to be used in Jonah’s pie. And Damien…

He was down!
Last night he’d been hit pretty hard on the head and now… Hell!
This apple picking adventure had seemed a good way to make amends
with him, not get him killed!

As quick as
she could, she scrambled down the tree, jumping the last few feet
since the ladder was now on the ground. As soon as she landed, she
froze in place, completely shocked by the sight before her.

Damien was
slowly getting to his feet, not seriously injured as she’d first
feared. He stood, rubbing his arm, surrounded by apples. His dark
brows were lowered in a deadly scowl that would have had most
wolves cowering in fear.

“I… I’m…” Sam
tried to speak, but a fit of laughter overtook her. Damien, her
Beta, the oh-so-tough rogue, was standing there with the remains of
a smashed apple on top of his head and juice dripping down his
face.

“What’s so
funny?” He wiped apple juice from his cheek, and kicked at the
apples that surrounded his feet. “Being pelted with dozens of
apples hurts, you know.”

“Apple…
Head...” She pointed at the top of his head, unable to get any
other words out.

Frowning,
Damien reached up and when his hand encountered the apple pulp, a
look of understanding passed over his face. Compressing his lips,
he snatched the remains of the offending fruit off his head and
stared at it as if he couldn’t believe an apple would have had the
audacity to hit him and then stick around to gloat. “It’s not that
funny,” he growled.

“Yes, it is.”
She leaned back against the trunk, holding her sides.

“Really? Then
let’s see how you like it.” He stalked over, the apple mush in his
hand.

Trying to
control herself, she eyed him warily. “Damien, what are you
thinking?”

“Guess.” He
was only a foot away, but Sam tried to dodge past him.

Damien shot
out his arm and stopped her. When she would have moved in the other
direction, he stepped sideways, fencing her in so she was trapped
between his body and the tree trunk.

“Damien,
mashing an apple on your Alpha’s head is
not
a good idea.”
She tried to look stern, however the bit of apple pulp still caught
in his stubble had the corners of her mouth twitching.

“He who laughs
last…” Damien leered and raised the crushed apple towards her head.
Sam squirmed and grabbed his wrist. He fought against her
restraining hand, oh so slowly winning the battle. The mushy apple
came closer and closer. In desperation to distract him from the
dastardly deed, Sam reached up and licked his face.

“Hey!”
Shocked, Damien stopped.

“Mmm…fresh
squeezed apple juice.” Sam gave his cheek another lick.

“Sam! That’s…”
He paused seemingly at a loss for words.

“Kind of hot?”
Sam suggested. Holding his gaze with her own, she slowly flicked
his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

A growl
rumbled in his throat and she repeated the performance, only this
time she didn’t withdraw. Grabbing the front of his shirt in her
hands to steady herself, she teased his mouth, placing her teeth
over his lower lip and tugging gently before replacing her teeth
with her lips.

“Sam,” he
groaned, shutting his eyes. A battle seemed to wage within him
until desire finally won. Gathering her close, he settled his mouth
on hers, brushing back and forth slowly until her lips were so
sensitive even the whisper of his breath over them sent shivers
through her. Then he leaned in, kissing her fully, the tip of his
tongue teasing hers before sliding into her wet, welcoming
warmth.

The taste of
him, the heat of him… At some point, he’d started to lean against
her, and she was now pressed between him and the tree. Sam was lost
in the moment, wrapping her arms around him, caressing his back.
She rubbed her body against his, urging him on as shivers of
delight swept over her.

Her wolf
hummed with approval and when Damien dragged his mouth along her
jaw, she arched her neck to give him better access. His teeth raked
her flesh and she gave a whimper of need.

“Damien…
Please, I—”

He jerked away
at the sound of her voice, panting; the all too familiar look of
guilt dawning on his face.

“Sam,
I…can’t…”

Need drove her
onward. She grabbed his face, forcing him to look her in the eye.
“Yes, you can! There’s no reason…”

“I’m
mated.”

“She’s dead
and has been for three years. You said so yourself.”

“No! I mean,
yes. I mean….” He pulled away and dragged his hand through his
hair. “I made a vow to her, Sam. I can’t forget her.”

“But that
doesn’t mean you can’t still live. You aren’t dead, Damien.”

“You don’t
understand. Her last words to me were…” He paused and almost choked
as he tried to speak. “She said ‘never forget, love’. It was her
dying wish, Sam.” He shook his head. “I can’t turn my back on
that.”

“And you won’t
forget her. She’ll live on here, in your heart.” Stepping closer,
she pressed her hand to his chest. “And here, in your memories.”
She brushed her hand over his temple, her fingers lingering over
the feel of his silky hair. “But you need to live in the present.
You deserve to be happy.”

His mouth
twisted, a haunted look passing over his face. “I don’t deserve
anything.”

“I think you
do.”

“No.” He
reached out and brushed his thumb over her lips. “Nice of you to
say so, but, no.”

“Everyone has
skeletons in their closet.” She pulled back from his touch.

“Well, I’ve
got a whole graveyard.”

“Yeah, right.”
Sam planted her hands on her hips. Soft and tender obviously wasn’t
going to work. “You’re wallowing, Damien. Scared of me. Scared to
take a chance at being happy.”

“Nice try.
I’ve heard all the ‘scared’ crap before.” He looked away, his jaw
tense.

“Maybe it’s
crap, maybe it isn’t. Maybe your mate really was so selfish that
her last wish was for you to spend your life alone with only a
ghost to keep you company. Or maybe you’re thinking is just so
fucked up that it isn’t worth my time trying to make you see
reason!” Sam pushed him out of the way and stormed across the
yard.

Damn the man,
why did she keep coming back to him time and time again? He’d
kicked her in the teeth more than once, throwing her advances back
in her face. You’d think she’d have gotten the message. It wasn’t
as if she was a slow learner.