Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood) Page 16

  He growled as his mouth captured her nipple. Hot and wet, his mouth devoured the sensitive skin. It was heaven. One breast, then the next, he licked and sucked until she was panting in his hold. He guided her back onto the bed, the magic of his mouth never leaving her body. On and on, he sucked and nipped until her body arched and swayed into him.

  She was just as hungry. The hard ridges of his chest and abdomen. The balls of his shoulder. Each rise and valley needed touching, kissing, exploring. The dip of his hips and swell of his ass. Her nails raked just enough to have him arching against her. The long, thick evidence of his arousal pressed against her belly. She parted for him.

  He slid deep, tearing a moan from them both. “Mine,” he whispered as he bent forward to kiss her.

  Her laugh was cut short by the strength of his thrust. Over and over, he drove into her—claiming her as his. The feel of him, big and thick and heavy, drove her into a frenzy. He lingered just long enough to tease her, nudging the bundle of nerves, coaxing her release, then sliding back. Bliss and the sweetest torture. He could do this for hours. She hoped he would. Her hands stroked the length of his back, marveling at the power of his body. Without the crisp shirts and starched slacks, he was primal perfection. All hers.

  “Look at me,” he ground out.

  She couldn’t look away. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, each breath more ragged than the last—he was holding back, driving her crazy, for her pleasure. She was close, so close. The friction and pressure. The heat in his gaze. The brush of his thumb and forefingers against her rock-hard nipple. She moaned, her fingers and nails biting into the curve of his ass.

  His lips brushed hers, his tongue sweeping the seam of her lips, and she was spinning and falling toward her release. Her body bowed, stiffening, clenching around him as wave after wave of undiluted pleasure washed over every nerve.

  He smiled, his hands brushing her hair from her forehead as he powered into her. Faster and harder, his teeth grazed her nipple, sucked the curve of her neck, while his hands lifted her hips. She moaned, his grip tilting her up, taking him deeper. She was coming again, so hard and fast she cried out over and over. Her lungs ached and her body throbbed, and his rhythm never slowed.

  A growl ripped from his throat, low and raw. She shuddered with the power of it. He stiffened, holding her in place as his frame shook with his climax. Watching him come was liberating.

  Because he was her mate. Her wolf had craved him like no other. Now, even satisfied, the craving lingered.

  His gaze held hers, searching, piercing, before his body left hers. The absence of him was acute. Her wolf didn’t like it, demanding she roll into his side, demanding she place her hand on his chest—over his heart.

  She didn’t. She and the wolf were partners. And right now, she, not the wolf, wasn’t sure what to make of this man.

  Hollis was man bent on denying his wolf. A man who would choose to eradicate their species from the planet. This is the man her wolf chose? Her gaze wandered, exploring the hard curves and planes of his incredible body. It—he—was an incredible specimen of pure masculinity. From the slight sheen of sweat that covered his chest to his tantalizing scent assaulting her senses, he held a power over her.

  Because he was her mate.

  His hair fell forward onto his forehead as he lay at her side. He lay facing her, one large hand gripping her shoulder and pulling her onto her side—to face him. This new Hollis was far more assertive. More aggressive. Part of her, the wolf especially, welcomed his strength and domination. But the other part, the one who had been alone and guarded for so long, bristled from his familiarity and confidence.

  “You look pissed.” One copper brow rose.

  “Do I?” Was she?

  “Ready to rip my throat out.” The corner of his mouth cocked up, making her insides clench delightfully.

  She would never hurt him. No. Since the idiot refused to connect with his wolf, she’d have to protect him. “I have no plans to rip out your throat,” she murmured, her gaze fixing on the column of his neck. His pulse beat steadily. She wanted to kiss the thrum under the skin. To taste his skin. It was maddening. “I’ll make no promises about biting.”

  His jaw muscle leaped, his thumb tracing along her lower lip. “If that was supposed to scare me, it doesn’t.” He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her against him so that his throbbing erection was pressed against her stomach.

  She stared up at him, startled. Already? The very hard, pulsing promise of further orgasms said yes. “It’s your wolf, wanting to forge a solid bond,” she whispered, her body ready—hungry.

  His eyes darkened and his hand gripped her thigh, hooking her leg around his hip. “Forging a bond?” He stared down at her, smiling. “I’ll forge all fucking night long.”

  Her laugh broke off at the stroke of him, sliding deep inside her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cold water sluiced over his body, chilling his skin but not the heat in his blood. The shower jets pounded down on his back and chest, massaging his fatigued muscles with tiny, icelike needles of water. It was bracing. Exactly what he needed. Her memories kept playing out in his brain, cycling through countless atrocities—images and sounds and pain. The only time it stopped was when she touched him. Being lost in her, buried in the mind-numbing tightness of her body, stopped all thought. But she was exhausted, and he wasn’t a totally selfish ass, so he’d hoped a cold shower would snap him out of whatever the fuck this was.

  He had a mate? If he didn’t feel it—no, know it—he’d laugh. But he did. Damn it. He did. And if he had a mate, he had a wolf.

  “Fuck.” He growled, tilting his face back under the water.

  Everything he was working for seemed empty now. After the attack, he’d clung to the belief that this was fixable. Now…he just didn’t know. And Ellen? There wasn’t a more complicated woman in existence.

  She was stubborn. Smart, yes, and undeniably sexy. But something inside of him had claimed her as his. Theirs. And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing. It was done.

  Now he was forever tied to a woman who would hate him if he continued to pursue his work. He couldn’t cure Ellen from being Ellen. He didn’t want to. Did he?

  “Fuck,” he ground out again, resting his head against the tiles.

  What was he hoping? He’d take her to bed and suddenly her goals and wants would change? He might be having some sort of life-altering upheaval, but that didn’t mean she was. No. Ellen’s goals were the same.

  Maybe, deep down, he’d hoped she’d pick him over vengeance. But that was before. Now he understood. He’d seen what she’d been through, fucking felt it. His skin twitched, seeking escape from a touch that wasn’t there. Now he understood why her drive was so complete. She’d been to hell and back. If anyone had a right to vengeance, it was her. And damn it all, he’d make sure she had it.

  And his work? He blinked the water away. Did it matter?

  As unfamiliar as the urge to hunt was, he recognized it. How could he rest until the motherfucking bastard was annihilated? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. She needed peace. They all needed peace. Deserved it.

  He’d been so lost in his head he didn’t hear her until her hands were on his back.

  “It’s freezing.” She stepped back, then squealed as the rear jets blasted her.

  He adjusted the temperature. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “You normally take arctic showers?” she asked, tentatively testing the water temperature. With a sigh, she stepped under the water.

  God she was incredible. Water streamed over her body, dipping into her belly button, dripping from her nipples, coursing between her full breasts. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  “No?” she asked, watching him. “Yes?”

  “No,” he rasped. “But I can’t seem to stop touching you and since you wouldn’t promise not to rip my throat out, I thought I’d give this a try.”

  She stopped washing her hair, her eyes going wide. �
�I’m your mate. You can touch me whenever you want to.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “I never do.” Her chin lifted, just enough.

  “I know.” There was plenty of things they didn’t know about each other, but her character wasn’t in question.

  “I saw a woman in your head.” There was an edge to her voice.

  A very interesting, slightly amusing edge. But he knew better than to smile.

  “She had long blond hair,” she continued. “Green eyes.”

  “What about her?” He poured shampoo into his hand and lathered up his hair.

  “Hollis?” Her tone alerted him.

  He took his time rinsing his hair, then looked at her. “Ellen?”

  She was gorgeous when she was angry. And she was angry. “Who is she?”

  She would have left the shower if he hadn’t caught her and pulled her against him. The fire in her eyes was glorious, and ridiculous. But it didn’t stop him from smiling.

  “Are you laughing at me?” she hissed, her cheeks an alarming shade of red.

  “Are you telling me you’re jealous of my cousin?” he asked.

  She frowned, relaxing against him.

  “Abigail. She’s a school teacher in Wisconsin. We were close when we were little—the same age. Her husband is an engineer. They have two kids. I get a Christmas card every year. What else would you like to know?” His fingers skimmed along her spine.

  She pinched him, hard.

  “Ow.” He arched away from her. “What did I do?”

  “You’re teasing me,” she returned, less irritated but still hostile.

  “I didn’t think you’d give a crap about my cousin. In Wisconsin.” He smiled at her. “I’m still coming to terms with the fact that you were in my head.”

  Her gaze fell from his and his arms tightened around her. His childhood was fairly commonplace. No skeletons in the family closet. Until Finn’s infection, life had been uneventful. Almost boring. He couldn’t remember what boring meant.

  Her forehead rested against his chest. “Your parents look kind.”

  “They are.” He continued to stoke her back.

  “And your brother. I’m sorry about your brother.” She looked at him. “He was important to you?”

  “He was.” His smile was sad. “He was a good brother.”

  She cradled his face in her hands, her gaze growing thoughtful. Intense. Guarded.

  “Stop overanalyzing this,” he whispered.

  “This? Coming from you.” Her smile was hesitant.

  “The irony isn’t lost on me,” he mumbled, watching the tip of her tongue slide along her full lower lip. Her even white teeth sank into the soft skin and she smiled.

  “Distract me,” she whispered.

  The urge to push her against the wall, sink his teeth into her lower lip, and thrust—hard—into her. His lungs emptied and his body hardened, ready and willing, and it scared the shit out of him. He wasn’t wired this way. He wasn’t Mal. This whole wolf thing wouldn’t dictate what he would or wouldn’t do. Even if he really wanted to do it. “No more sex,” he finished, gruffly.

  Her mismatched eyes widened and her full lips pulled down.

  She was pouting? How could he refuse her?

  “You’re not enjoying yourself?” she asked, her hands sliding over the curve of his ass to grip him, hard. And just like that, he was rock-hard and pressing against her stomach.

  She noticed, how could she not? Her sweet, excited smile had his resistance weakening.

  His hands ran up her sides to cup her full breasts. Her nipples hardened in invitation. “I am.”

  “There is so much to enjoy.” She arched into his touch, reaching down to slide her fingers along his dick. “You’re massive. And mine to enjoy.”

  He liked hearing her say that. Calling him hers. Which was a fucking surprise. His brows rose. “And you like it.”

  “I do,” she agreed, sliding her fingers along his shaft, gripping him and stroking him firmly. Her thumb traced the vein along the underside of his erection, then circled the crown. He jerked in her hand. “Very, very much.”

  She shimmied down his body and knelt on the heated tile floor. Before he had time to react, her lips surrounded him. Her eyes met his while she took him deep into the wet heat of her mouth. His hands braced himself against the shower walls, his legs tightened and clenched. She gripped him in one hand, allowing herself to pump him into her mouth with ease.

  “Oh fuck,” he ground out, his head falling back against the wall.

  She growled, raking her nails down his thigh.

  “Ellen,” he bit out. “Dammit.” His hand cradled the back of her head. Her silky hair against his palm, the lick of her tongue around his shaft, the vibration of her growl along his dick. He groaned and stared down at her. “Fuck,” he said again.

  There was nothing as erotic as seeing him disappear between her lips. Her eyes were closed now, the light scrape of her teeth and the tightening of her grip on his erection making him throb and pulse in her mouth. He couldn’t wait. Or stop. Her eyes fluttered open as he came, watching as he arched into her, a broken groan tearing from his chest.

  He slumped against the wall, panting and weak. While Ellen stood, smiling victoriously, in front of him.

  “Clean yet?” she asked, yawning and stretching like a cat. A very pleased-with-herself cat.

  “Sleepy?” he asked, slightly breathless.

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He was, too. With any luck, he’d sleep out of pure exhaustion. He turned off the water, wrapped her in a towel, and led the way out of the shower stall. Five minutes later, they were crawling into his bed.

  “Sleep. For now.” She rolled onto her side and burrowed under the covers but reached back for his hand. With a sigh, she placed it on her hip and relaxed.

  Hollis flipped off the bedside lamp and lay still. He concentrated on the beating of her heart, the way her respirations grew longer and deeper, and the slight twitch she made as she slept. Peacefully.

  She was his responsibility now, whether she saw it that way or not. Whatever life had thrown at her, she’d survived. And now he’d make damn sure nothing happened to her. The glimpse into her past had jump-started a primal instinct. Now the urge to protect ruled everything else.

  He stared down at Ellen, feasting on her as she slept. Here was his reason to fight. He owed it to her to acknowledge the wolf he’d caged inside himself. Ellen’s past had brought the wolf raging to the surface. It had demanded justice, demanded violence. Hollis feared the beast would tear his way out of his body, if his heart was strong enough.

  The wolf had retreated, and his body seized from the flood of endorphins. Then—nothing. He’d need his wolf’s help to beat Cyrus. Shifting might be impossible, but they’d find a way to make it work.

  For Ellen’s sake.

  Now the wolf lurked in his mind, remaining silent after being so long ignored.

  She rolled over, her hand searching across the mattress for him. He smiled, lifting her hand and placing it on his stomach. With a sigh, she drifted back to sleep.

  He could still feel her on his fingers, taste her on his tongue. All he wanted was to claim her. Rational thought and planning had taken a back seat to raw hunger and need. Losing control was new. She made it easy.

  He ran his hand down her back, watching the smile that creased her face. Even in sleep, she responded to him. That was all it took to make him throb with need again. He couldn’t help it. Being buried inside of her was heaven. Nothing compared. Nothing.

  Nothing compared to the hell her memories had put him through, either. He couldn’t erase the image of Isabel from his mind. He’d held her, smelled her, known her—loved her as Ellen had. And when Ellen lost her, he’d shared her grief. It couldn’t compare to what her mate had endured, he knew that, but it had damn near crippled him.

  William… Hollis didn’t want to think about William. The man had left he
r to defend their child. He’d come back on the end of a chain to see Ellen, bleeding and injured, screaming over their lifeless daughter. He’d given her no words of comfort, asked for no forgiveness. No, the bastard had told her to avenge him.

  William had been proud and selfish, and Ellen had paid the price.

  “What’s the matter?” she whispered, her face shadowed by the dark.

  “Sorry, I woke you.”

  Her fingers threaded with his.

  He shook his head, a hard knot of anger lodged in his throat. But one look told him she wouldn’t let him off that easy. “Thinking. Your mate, William.”

  She flinched and burrowed into his side. “He was. No longer. You are very different men. William and I agreed to mate. Our wolves chose each other—unable to resist.”

  His brows rose. “Agreed? That’s different? Than this—us?”

  She nodded. “It is. You and I were fated, pulled together no matter how hard we resisted.” Her hand pressed again his cheek. “Our bond is natural and final.”

  “Maybe we should have resisted harder,” he teased, kissing her palm.

  “It would have made no difference.”

  “So you and William weren’t like this?” he asked, oddly pleased.

  “No. In time we grew together. But our bond was formed to align the packs.” Her breath hitched and she paused before asking, “Do you want to know this?”

  “Yes.” Did he? Not that what he wanted mattered. Here, in the dark, tangled up in her, might make it easier.

  “What I remember is…chopped up. You saw most of it.” She rested her head on his chest. “I have no way of knowing what, if any, of the images before William’s death are real.”

  He traced his fingers through her hair, running a finger along her scar. “Do they change? What you see, I mean?”