Chapter Nine
CHEV
VANESSA HAS ALREADY left the facility by the time I arrive, and I curse myself for being late as I run to her home. Her golf cart is parked by her porch, and I pout as I shift into my skin form and redress. I’ve missed her, and I have nobody to be angry at but myself.
I wander behind her house, deep enough in the woods that she won’t be able to see me if she looks out her windows. Her curtains are drawn, and I lean against a tree and fiddle with my phone, mindlessly scrolling through the newest articles written about me. I hoped they would grow better with time, but they’re worsening. Mammon is working hard to discredit me, and it’s working.
It’s only a matter of time before I’m asked to step down. I’m good at my job, and I’ve efficiently implemented many of the changes I promised to achieve. The females are rehabilitating at incredible rates, and we’re seeing even more success than initially planned. It’s not enough, though.
I disrespected a female, my own mate, and I’m being punished for it. People have lost trust in me, which I honestly can’t blame them for. Echo will take my place, but she is a good leader. The women will be in capable hands.
I kick at a random rock and glance at Vanessa’s back windows. She’s nowhere to be seen, my mate hidden inside her home. I’m disappointed, but it’s okay. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Vanessa’s always more lively in the mornings.
I scroll through another few articles, but I lose all interest the second Vanessa’s bedroom light flickers on. Yes. My mate strolls inside the room, her pace slow and sleepy. She worked a long day today, and I’m sure she’s exhausted.
Before I can follow what’s happening, she throws her phone on the bed and rips off her shirt. I gulp, my eyes landing on the smooth skin of her belly and chest. She’s wearing a modest bra, but it’s enough to crush me.
I lick my lips, knowing full well I should leave. I can’t get my muscles to follow the command, though. I scan the area to ensure nobody else is around to see her, and I quickly strip and shift into my bear form. I hear better in this form, and I listen for guards as Vanessa walks around her bedroom.
I’ll kill anybody who gets too close.
My butt snaps several twigs as I plop down, and I fight my bear’s instinct to howl as Vanessa moves closer to her window. He wants to inform her of our presence, but I refuse. She’d be upset to learn I’m here, and I selfishly don’t want her to stop undressing.
I slap my tail against the ground as she begins removing her pants.
She undoes her buttons, but I huff and look away the second her light-blue underwear comes into view. I want to see her so badly, but not like this. I won’t do this. I won’t be this man.
I fight every instinct to look as I shift back into my skin and redress. My clothing is tight and uncomfortable, and I curse Aziel for supplying me with such constricting items. I miss the freedom of my leathers.
Aziel’s shirt is folded and tucked carefully aside, and I hesitate before putting it on. It still smells of Vanessa, and I quite like it. I planned to sleep with it tonight, but I’ve never been known for my self-control.
It’s not a shifter’s best quality.
I force myself to stare at a tree for several minutes, giving Vanessa enough time to redress. I bet she’d change quickly in leathers. She’d be easier to undress, too, but I know not to expect that. My mate may never want me to remove her clothing.
When I turn back to her window, I’m relieved to see she’s redressed. She wears a black nightgown, the cotton fabric clinging to her every curve. She might as well be naked.
Despite my hatred for Wrath clothing, I quite like this.
It leaves much to the imagination, while also leaving nothing. I can see every slope and curve of her body, and I do my best not to stare at her full breasts or wide hips as she picks up her phone and paces the room.
Her face is red, which is intriguing. What’s she looking at that’s got her so emotional? Occasionally, she turns in a way that her phone faces the window, and I inch closer to see. It’s still not enough—I can’t quite make out her screen—and I climb onto the lower branches of a tree to get a better view.
This is inappropriate. I know I’m going too far, but I have to see what she’s doing. The new angle is better, and I slam a hand over my mouth when I finally glimpse her screen.
Me. She’s looking at photos of me.
My bear forces loud vibrations from my chest, and I have to swallow down air to get them to stop. I can’t be too loud. Vanessa may be a nymph, but her hearing is good enough to detect my damn bear making his annoying fucking mating noises.
I grab the branches of the tree I’m sitting in, squeezing so hard, I think my fingers are bleeding. Even that isn’t enough to stop the noises from pouring out of my throat. It’s practically a purr, and my heart drops into my stomach when Vanessa turns toward the window.
My bear finally stops, but I fear it’s too late. I know Vanessa can’t see me, but I still shrink behind the foliage to be safe. Did she hear me?
She places a hand over her chest, her fingers curling and digging into the soft flesh of her throat. She may not be a shifter, but her body will respond to my bear’s call. My fears are confirmed as she trails her hand down her torso, her skin turning red.
My noises made her aroused. This is not what I want.
I have half a mind to run to her door and admit to what I’ve done, but that will only make things worse. She’ll know I was watching her, and she’ll never want to see me again.
Vanessa stares out her window for a few seconds, her eyes darting around before she returns her attention to her phone. She sits on the windowsill and leans against the glass, giving me a perfect view of her screen.
Her screen, which is covered in images of me.
She scrolls through them, and I let out a whispered curse when she clicks on one of the more salacious ones. It’s of my thigh, the one that holds my animal and mate mark. She’s looking to see them, but she won’t find anything on the internet.
I’ve never concerned myself with my attire or the way I move. Nobody in the shifter realm has ever looked at me inappropriately, so there was no need. Everybody has a mate, and if my intimate parts are exposed every once in a blue moon, it doesn’t matter.
Being thrust into the public eye was a shock, and for a while, I was unequipped. People were sneaking photos of me, purposefully trying to get glimpses of my bare body. There was an interest in my mate and animal markings, and even more so in the skin that lives above them.
I was horrified, but Silas helped remove the images of my intimate parts—even the blurry ones. Suddenly, I wish they were still available.
Vanessa uses her fingers to zoom in on the image, my female staring intently at my upper thigh before scrolling higher. Precisely what part of me is she hoping to view?
She moves away from the window seat, and she shifts her weight from foot to foot before turning off the main light in the room. I can still make out her form as she crawls into bed and slips under her covers.
My mate lifts her knees, the sheets rising and forming around them, and I practically fall from my branch with how much I lean forward. What is she doing? I’m not a stupid man. My aroused mate is lying in bed, her legs spread, looking at a photo of me.
Even if she did hear my bear’s mating call, she wouldn’t be driven to these lengths. This is her own doing.
Vanessa continues scrolling through her phone. I can’t see her screen, but I’m confident she’s looking at photos of me. Her hand gradually disappears underneath the covers, and I slam my palm over my straining length when her eyelids flutter shut.
My mate is touching herself to me.
She throws her head against her pillows and slides her hand lower, and I force myself to leave my tree. I want nothing more than to stay, but I won’t do that. I’m better than that.
I find enough enjoyment in knowing she still feels desire. It’s not uncommon for rehabilitated females to refuse any form of intimacy, even from oneself, and I’m happy Vanessa doesn’t seem to face the same objections.
She lowered her arm quickly, and with confidence. She’s familiar with pleasuring herself.
My body aches, but I ignore it. I don’t want anybody to know what I witnessed tonight, mainly because it’s nobody’s business, and I force my thoughts toward boring topics as I return to Aziel’s home.
Charlie and her mates are in the family room when I arrive, and I pop my head in to announce my arrival.
“I am here,” I say. “I’m going to bed.”
I keep my lower half hidden behind the doorway, but Gray still smirks at me. I’m sure he can smell my arousal. It’s probably pouring off me in waves.
“Is that Aziel’s shirt?” Charlie asks.
I glance at myself, frowning as I search for the right words.
“Chev ripped his shirt in the woods today,” Aziel smoothly lies, pulling Charlie onto his lap.
She squeals and grabs at his hands, and I leave before their touching grows inappropriate. They hump every night after the children go to bed, and I’m eager to retire before their noises reach my ears.
I never imagined Gray could be so mean. He was kind when he touched me during the Lust ceremony, whispering promises that my mate would still love me and that our actions wouldn’t ruin me. It’s shocking to hear him on the other end of the spectrum, but I suppose versatility comes with being the King of Lust.
I shake my head, forcing thoughts of that night to the back of my mind. What happened that evening isn’t a secret, but I’m unsure if Vanessa knows. I’m not sure if I want her to. Shifters save themselves for their mates—we always have—and I don’t want her to think I am an overeager man who couldn’t wait.
I can wait. I will wait forever if I need to.
My bed is freshly made, and clean clothing for tomorrow is laid out on the sheets.
I quite like the treatment I receive from the Wrath housekeepers, and I smile as I pick up tomorrow’s clothing. The outfit is more or less exactly what I wore today, and I test the stretch in the pants before putting the clothes aside.
I’m still painfully erect, and I force myself into a freezing shower until I’ve softened. It takes longer than I’d like, especially when my mind continues wandering back to Vanessa. She’s masturbating to images of me, to images of my thighs and markings.
I’m aroused within seconds of leaving the shower, but I refuse to indulge as I climb into bed.
Every brush of the sheets feels fantastic, but I ignore it as I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling. I promised myself I wouldn’t fantasize about Vanessa, but it’s impossible not to when the image of her touching herself is permanently etched into my mind.
I lie in bed, wide awake, for several hours before giving up and wrapping a hand around myself. It feels good, and I pray Gray can’t hear me as I run my fist from base to tip. I’m on edge already, and I know I won’t last long.
I jerk myself quickly, and I slam a pillow over my face to muffle my moans.
My hips twitch and roll to meet each of my strokes, and I hate myself for the way I imagine it’s Vanessa wrapped around me. I imagine touching her, tasting her, fucking her.
I cum within seconds, and I’m disgusted with myself for being so weak. I pull the pillow off my face with a low sigh. I’ll be better next time.