Wolf Claim (Wolves of Willow Bend Book 3) (14 page)

To see you.
 

“For someone who noticed all that, I’m surprised you don’t know more about my parents.” He urged her back under the water, following her and rinsing her hair. She sighed and arched her head backwards, baring that beautiful throat again. The elegance in her easy surrender held him hostage. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

She had him, body and soul, and if after he told her this ugly truth, she still wanted him…
Yes.
His wolf salivated at the thought. They would take her. They would keep her and protect her forever. She was theirs to hold.

Grabbing the soap, he began to lather it against her skin and she plucked it from his hands and began to do the same to him. For a moment he forgot how to think as she scrubbed his chest.

“Are you sure you’re well enough?” he asked.

“Don’t change the subject.” She leaned in and bit his shoulder, a grazing nip, and one that sent a pulse straight to his cock. He wanted her bite nearly as much as he wanted to bite her.

Mine.

“Speak, Owen, or I’ll find something else to do nibble on,” she said. Her gaze dipped lower and he swore he could feel her touch as if she’d gripped his length. “What is it about your parents that makes you so wary of me?”

Suddenly, he really didn’t want to talk about his parents. Instead, he massaged her buttocks, then skated the line of her hips to the juncture between her thighs. Her pupils dilated, and her nostrils flared.

“I want you,” he told her. “Only you. Always you.”

“Take me.” She reminded him of her offer and his gut clenched. God how he wanted to do exactly that.

“If I do, it won’t be once and it won’t be a fling. I want to mark you, claim you, and keep you forever.” His heart slammed against his ribs. The water could be ice cold and it wouldn’t diminish his ardor, not one whit. He rushed them through rinsing, then shut the shower off.

Snagging a towel, he began to work it over her, drying every inch of her gorgeous flesh. He said nothing, careful not to rasp her skin too roughly. When he dried her breasts, he flicked the nipples and she let out a low moan.

Yes, his resistance to her had eroded completely, but he had one last chance to save her. One last chance to put her happiness before his own, because the minute he took her, he’d never let go. “My parents,” he said. “Mated young, they had a fierce affair. Everyone who ever speaks of them is awed by the passion they share and, if you see them together, you see it like a living spark, a constant current of pure energy.”

He moistened his lips.

“If I see them together?” So, she’d caught that part.

“Yes, mating—it’s permanent. You and I know this. It binds us together, one heart, one soul, one life until one or both are dead. Surviving a loss is possible, if grueling.” Felicia, Toman’s widowed mate, provided an example of the rarity. She had survived, thanks to Mason and the pack, but it had taken them all to hold her with them, to keep her from following her mate.

Rising, he wrapped the towel around her and tugged her close. Brushing a kiss to her lips, he reveled in her nearness for as long as he dared. “My parents love each other. I know it. They produced cubs, they mated, and they still see each other. But they don’t live together, neither likes the life the other one leads. My mother loves to be amongst the pack, she thrives around the little ones.”

“And your father is a Hunter. He loves the circuit, and serving the pack on the fringes, protecting and keeping us safe. Just as you do.” Bless her, she knew him so well.

“They tried to live together, to stay in the same house, but my mother hated living on the outskirts. When she wanted to move to town, my father built her a place. He took care of everything. After he finished, he would leave, sometimes for months at a time. My mother would go to see him, or he’d come to her, but they never lived together. The kids, they don’t remember a time when they lived together.”

Gillian rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “We aren’t your parents, Owen.”

“But we could be. I am like my father, Gillian. I prefer the fringe. I prefer to watch the borders, to travel the circuit, to see all our outlying pack members and to make them safe. I don’t like town and you’re—you’re a healer, sweetheart. Everyone will gravitate toward you and you can’t walk away. My mother is miserable at times, my father, too. They miss each other, yet whenever they are together, it’s combustible. Neither will concede their positions.”

She opened her mouth, but he pressed his finger to her lips. With her sweet words, she could easily bend him and he would try. For her, he would try anything, but if she wanted to be away from his life, he would allow it and halve himself to do it.

“It would kill me to make you as miserable as they are. I can’t do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

“Owen, my parents were mated, too. They died together in a crash, one moment alive and the next gone. Life gives us no guarantees. Look at the sadness here in Hudson River, the loss they are facing. I am
not
your mother and you are
not
your father. Yes, you roam, but you have always come back to me. What you’ve never let me do is follow you. You walked away when I wanted you to stay. You rejected me—”

He grimaced. “I wanted to say yes, that’s why I walked away. Had I taken you that night, I couldn’t have resisted trying to claim you.”

“Owen, I nearly died tonight.”

And his heart had nearly stopped a thousand times as he waited for her to wake up. “I know.”

A huskiness coated her words. “Do you know why I didn’t slip away to the poison? I was almost too late in realizing what was happening to me.” At his slow headshake, she smiled. “You. You were my anchor, you kept me here. You called me home. I felt the packs on both sides, but you were my beacon. Owen, I don’t care where I live. I don’t care where my life takes me. I only care that my life has you in it.”

Drawing her to him, he held her head against his chest. “My heart beats for you.”

“And mine for you.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Choose me, Owen. Choose me as I chose you.”

The sizzling in his chest continued to grow. The nascent mating bond fought to find purchase and he stopped fighting it, fighting her, fighting himself. “Yes,” he growled and claimed her mouth in a kiss that branded his soul.

Chapter Eight

None of their earlier kisses prepared her for the way Owen took control of her mouth. His tongue sought and demanded entrance. He swept through her defenses, then bit down on her lower lip. Every single stroke sent a wave of heat to her sex. She held onto him as he strode out of the bathroom. With one motion, he shoved her bag away then deposited her on the bed releasing her only long enough to lock the door.

“Brett is going to hear us,” he told her. The look of masculine pride in his features was unmistakable. “Every moan. Every cry. Every scream when I take you and make you mine.”

Not once had Owen ever spoken to her a tone so dark and sensual. Liquid heat melted her core. “Okay.”

He stalked toward her, the corded muscles of his body rippling. His cock jutted out, thick and proud, the head flushed a deeper color, and her mouth watered. A part of her wanted to take her time, to feast on the chance to touch and explore, while the rest of her wanted to grab him and hold on. She didn’t need gentleness, she only needed him.

“Males get a little crazy when they have to listen to their loss.” The sub vocal reached her and her heart twisted. Owen might not think he was a good man or a deserving one, but even in the heat of their lust, he let her know Brett had made some kind of declaration. Bless the sweet Alpha, but he wasn’t the wolf for her.

“If he doesn’t want to listen to me choosing you, he’ll go because I do choose you.” If he hadn’t heard them in the shower, she didn’t doubt he would hear her now. Downstairs, a door closed, and Gillian raised her eyebrows.

“It was only fair, sweetheart. I may have wanted to cut his ruthless fucking heart out for telling me he planned to claim you if I didn’t, but he’s not a bad guy.”

The corners of her mouth twitched and she laughed softly. Holding her hands out, she beckoned him. “You’re a good man, Owen.”

“No, I’m not.” He growled and caught her hands before lavishing a kiss to each one. “I wasn’t kidding about cutting out his heart. No one is good enough for you, sweetheart.”

He stopped at the edge of the bed and bent to kiss the top of her feet. He cradled them one at a time. “I love your feet,” he said. “Gentle and delicate, like you.” He tickled the undersides and she jerked, laughter seizing her muscles.

“I love the sound of your laugh.” He grinned and sucked on her toe as he dragged a finger along the arch of her foot. The erotic stimulation wound through her system, short-circuiting her as she was torn between responses. He nuzzled her ankle and along her calf. He took his time, nibbling kisses along her legs.

Groaning, she tried to reach for him, but he took her hands then set them on the bed and gave her a steady look. “You already had your way with me, sweet wolf. You gave yourself to me, and now I get to play.”

“Owen—” But her protest choked off as he touched her thighs, easing them apart, then gazed at her sex. The way he stared at her turned her inside out.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nuzzling a kiss to the inside of her thigh and pressing her legs further apart. “I have always been able to scent you. I knew when you’d been somewhere, how long ago, and when you were close…” He drew in a deep breath, an expression of naked hunger on his face. “You smell like sunshine, lemonade, and those pastries dumped in powdered sugar.”

“I smell like the state fair?” She blinked. Had he really just compared her to funnel cake?

A crooked smile gentled his mouth and he chuckled. “No, you smell like Gillian.
My
Gillian.” He pressed his mouth to her sex and she forgot about her objections. His nose rubbed against her labia, then his tongue stroked her from entrance to clit, detonating a bomb of pleasure.

Her whole body seemed to arch of its own accord as he began to lazily circle her clit. His murmured words faded before they reached her ears, but the vibration of his voice and his tongue sent electricity arcing along her nervous system. The zing of contact seemed to blast through her. She didn’t know whether to writhe, cry out, or simply hold on for dear life.

Breathless and out of control, she’d never been so powerless and yet so utterly safe. He locked his mouth on her clit and the world erupted as an orgasm tore through her and ripped her apart. She floated on the ecstasy, only half aware he’d begun moving again. His mouth seemed to be everywhere. She felt the nip of his teeth on her nipples, the faint sting bringing her back to earth, to Owen.

Drowning in him and loving it, she threaded her fingers through his damp hair and ran her nails over his scalp as he latched onto one nipple and sucked it hard against his teeth. It wrenched another groan from her. She’d ached for him for so long, yet nothing prepared her for full-on sensual assault. He worked a hand between her legs. Teasing her labia apart, he thrust one finger and then a second.

Digging her nails into his shoulders, she thrust her hips to match the motion of his hand. After laving her nipple, he abandoned the first for the second. The sting of his bite pierced the haze of pleasure and she gasped. He chose that moment to add a third finger and she couldn’t breathe from the way he stretched her.

Reality dawned. He was making her ready for him, for the beautiful length of his cock, and her joy seemed to expand. Need rode them both, but Owen cared for her, took care of her. A tear slipped down her cheek and Owen reared up, his deep golden eyes glowing in the half-dark of the room. “Am I hurting you?” His wolf was in his voice and her heart twisted with the wave of love flooding through her.

“You love me,” she said. It was a thing of such utter wonder to her. Certainly, other wolves looked after her and took care of her, but Owen put her first over and over again. She could see his cock, the hard length of it, and the throb of a vein in his forehead. His scent surrounded her. Soon, he would pound that smell into her and she would wear it with pride. Yet no matter how great his need, he seemed focused on her pleasure, on making sure she suffered no pain, and her heart threatened to burst.

“You’re mine,” he said and the claim slammed through her even as his mouth came down on hers. He invaded with his tongue and his hand increased the pressure of his thrusting. Then his thumb skated over her clit and pressed down and she came screaming against his mouth.

Still, it wasn’t enough. The pleasure, the intensity of it all, and the sheer raw strength he surrounded her with, yet she wanted more. “Please, Owen.”

“It’s going to be over fast baby,” he whispered against her mouth. “I’ve wanted you for too long, and I want to fuck you until I can’t see. Afterward, I want to fuck you again.”

“Promises…” She laughed, taking advantage of his pledge to explore the hard ridges of his back down to his ass. He was so tight everywhere, nothing spare on him.

“Yes.” He nuzzled the corner of her mouth before moving to her ear. He tugged at her earlobe and gently withdrew his hand. She whimpered at the loss, but she wasn’t alone for long. His cock rested against her sex, the heat a scalding reminder of him, and she wriggled, desperate to adjust the angle.

He bit down on her earlobe and another shock raced through her system. “Mine,” he repeated, staking his claim. He grazed his teeth down her throat, a wild predator capable of deadly force, and she groaned as he began to ease inside of her.

Killing her. His gentleness was killing her. She rode the precipice, the slow glide of his cock against her sensitive flesh lighting her up. Pleasure swirled in her system, winding her tighter and tighter, and still he pushed into her.

Unable to stand it, she went for his shoulder and bit down. She drew blood, tasted him on her tongue, and felt his cock thrust hard and deep. He went utterly still as she gripped him, her nails dragging along his spine.