Protector (Wolves of Winter Creek Book 4)

10. Go eat worms

Tristan’s right. The next morning actually does look a little better.

For a couple of reasons, too.

One. Sleeping in his arms after he gave me head was just what I needed to relax enough to face the new day with a more Lorelei-like outlook.

Two. It wasn’t half as awkward as I expected to be, waking up and using the morning light to see that Tristan’s eyes were open, watching me as I slumbered. Somehow we had shifted positions in the night so that, instead of spooning, we were cuddled up together, my boobs pressed against his pecs. His arms are still wrapped around me, cocooning me, while our legs are intertwined. I got a little drool on his upper bicep, too; I notice that when I sheepishly look away from the intent expression on his handsome face. I get the idea that he was memorizing my face or something while I was out, and I only hope to the Luna I wasn’t snoring.

Definitely drooled, though. I try to wipe it away surreptitiously, but Tristan chuckles under his breath.

“Leave it. It adds to your scent on my skin.”

Okay, then.

He doesn’t let me go right away, either. Only when I admit that I have to pee did he release me, and as per our very matter-of-fact discussion from the night before, I headed for the corner of the cave that’s our designated bathroom.

Yeah. Because matter-of-fact it might’ve been, but despite being shifters used to marking our territory by pissing outside, it’s a little different when we’re enclosed in a very small cave with very delicate sniffers.

Me? I was prepared to give myself a bladder infection before I used the corner first. As though he could tell, Tristan christened it instead. Urine is pungent. Male wolf urine is rancid. And yet… I know I’m already in over my head when I don’t really mind it because it’s Tristan’s.

It’s a shifter thing. A full human wouldn’t understand—and a full human female might forget about the blood ward and go screaming out of the cave when Tristan boldly admits that this isn’t the first time he’s left his bodily fluids in the cave.

“But it wasn’t piss,” he teased, joining me back by the other side of the cave. When I didn’t seem to get the gist of what he was referring to right away, he trailed one hand down my thigh. “I had a beautiful mate I couldn’t touch. If I got randy in the pack house, everyone would’ve known. Instead, I’d come down to the waterfall, head inside the cave, and… you know. Get some relief while thinking about my female.”

He sounds so earnest, I want to believe it’s true. But if it is…

“Is that what you were doing when you said you were patrolling?”

I meant it as a tease right back—and then Tristan’s chuckle turns husky as he admits, “Maybe about half the time. I still needed to patrol. I had my intended mate to protect.”

I let that one pass. To be fair, I let nearly everyone of his comments about considering me his pass… but at least now I know why the cave had a distinct salty scent…

This is nuts. I went from having the Beta pretend I didn’t exist to hearing him admit that he visited this cave to secretly jack off to thoughts of me. It’s an entirely new experience, seeing this sexual side of the Beta, and I’d be lying if I said it made me uncomfortable.

I had this male’s face in my pussy last night. How can anything make me uncomfortable after that?

Not uncomfortable… but maybe suspicious.

I try to hide it. I just don’t understand the one-eight he undertook between yesterday morning and today. If he senses it, though, he keeps his thoughts to himself. Instead, acting as though he really is a mate male who needs to protect his mate, he turns his attention to what we’re supposed do next.

Three. His certainty that we’ll be rescued his infection—for the next two days. He’s doing his best to keep my spirits up. Telling me stories about life in Winter Creek, about what the world was like before time stopped in the sanctuary town, even about the way Fallon met Lucas.

Spoiler alert: she was tied to a tree, left for the beast in the woods… who just so happened to be the feral form of the ferocious Alpha.

He even explained the significance behind Fallon showing up to the Coven House in a red cloak that one time. After everything she went through, Fallon kept her spirits up by referring to her initiation into the supe world as a twisted retelling of Little Red Riding Hood.

Oh, yeah. That’s Fallon alright.

But that was the first two days. The only sign that the witches’ magic might not last forever comes on the morning of day three when Tristan can finally shift back to his wolf. I wonder if that means he’ll want to go to his fur and sleep by himself that night, but if I really thought so, I wasn’t paying attention.

We fall asleep spooning every night, waking up in an embrace that neither one of us mention the next morning. Apart from the first night when he went down on me, we’ve kept our sleeping arrangement as chaste as possible.

I know what he’s doing. The longer we’re trapped in here, the more stir crazy I’m getting. At least three times a day, I throw my body at the blood ward, hoping that that time will be the time that it fails. Nope. All that happens is that I get banged up, and Tristan runs his hands over my body, making sure I’m okay. But that’s as far as he goes—and all because he’s convinced himself that he pushed me too far that first night.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. I very enthusiastically consented to everything that happened, but Tristan really thought we’d be out by the next morning.

Now it’s the afternoon on day four and I’m not sure I’m going to make it that much longer without something to eat.

I’ve used nearly all of my emergency stores of fat. Any ass I had is gonna be nonexistent at this rate, and I’ve gotten so used to hearing stomachs rumble, it’s basically background noise at this point.

We realized early on that we had nothing to eat. Luckily, there was a steady stream of water leaking down the back of the cave that keeps us from being too thirsty, but hungry? I past hungry on day two. By day four, I’m starving.

But am I starving enough that I’ll eat worms?

Because those are wriggling, nasty worms nestled in the palm of Tristan’s outstretched hand.

“No. Absolutely not. Uh-uh.”

When he said he was going to find me something to eat on day two, I appreciated the effort. He came back with some grubs and worms then, and I refused. I just… I couldn’t do it. When I said ‘no’, he tossed them back in the non-bathroom corner where he found them.

Same thing happened on day two.

But now…

“Come on, Jeannie. It’s protein.”

“It’s bugs,” I say flatly.

“It’s fat.”

“It’s worms.”

To my surprise, Tristan doesn’t lose his temper with me. He just moves his hand so it’s under my nose.

Yeah. That doesn’t help.

“Please, Jeannie. You have to eat something.”

I know. I know. But they’re worms and even as a wolf, I’ll eat prey animals raw, but I’ve never eaten worms.

“You want me to eat that? You first.”

Tristan doesn’t even hesitate. Choosing one of the largest, somewhat clean worms from the bunch, he lifts it to his mouth and slurps it up like a piece of spaghetti.

Ew, ew, ew. “Remind me not to kiss you on the mouth.”

His eyes flash. Even in the dank cave, I can always tell because the whitish sheen lights up his face like a phone screen. “Were you planning on doing so? Because I can go rinse out my mouth right now if you’ll kiss me.”

I ignore that. I want to do so much more than that, but it’s hard to feel sexy when you’ve been trapped in a cave with no food, no toilet, no toothbrush, and no shower for days.

It’s not bothering Tristan, though. Whenever I mutter that I must stink, he just cheerfully agrees, then adds that it goes straight to his head.

That’s not the only place it goes straight to…

As he crouches in front of me, I try to ignore the erection point in my direction. Poor guy. He’s been in almost a constant state of arousal, but though I follow his lead when he pointedly ignores his hard-on, all I can think about is what that sucker would feel like inside of me.

Hey. We’re trapped in here. Why shouldn’t we find some way to pass the time before we starve to death and all they find of us are our skeletons?

Tristan frowns. “What do I have to do to get you to eat? I need you to eat, Jeannie.”

I’ve always wanted a male to feed me, knowing what that signifies to a she-wolf. I just… I guess I never thought my intended mate’s first meal would be worms.

He folds his fingers over his palm. Then, in a soft voice that echoes around the cave, he asks, “Why are you so suspicious?”

“You’re asking me that while you have some worms in your hands?”

“Fair point,” he admits. “But I mean it. What did I ever do to make you hate me? I ate the worm. I need you to eat the worm. If you think I’m trying to hurt you, or position you, or?—”

What? “Of course not. And hate you? I don’t hate you.”

“You bare your fangs whenever you see me.”

“That’s called a smile, hotshot.”

Throwing out his hand, letting the worms that I was never going to eat fall to the floor of the cave, he says wryly, “Right. And that nickname… I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me ‘Tristan’.”

I have. Plenty of times, I have. When I thought he was dead from the witch’s spell, for once. But I get what he means. Anytime I want to put some distance between us, I always revert to the mocking nickname.

Call it my defense mechanism if you will. Same as getting a little snappish when he finally shows me a little bit of his Beta dominance.

I like the sweet, caring Tristan. You know what, though? I like this spicy side to him, too. It lets me fight back. I felt bad doing that when he was trying his best to take care of me, but I’ve waited four days…

No. I’ve waited three months for this conversation.

“Maybe if you didn’t run away from me when we first met and you actually introduced yourself before

“You urged me to put my hand in your pants!”

“Damn right I did. And I would’ve done a lot more if you hadn’t run away!”

Tristan’s eyes flash again. He opens his mouth—I see his fangs—before he jerks his head, stalking toward the other side of the cave. I can’t really make out what he’s doing in the shadows, but when he comes back a lot calmer, shaking his damp hand, I figure he must’ve used the trickle to rinse ‘worm’ off of his hand.

He runs it through his messy hair. I’d never seen Tristan Crowder with a single strand out of place until the cave, and I want to tell him he looks so much better to me when he’s a little wolfy, a little wild, but before I can, he sighs.

“Okay. I owe you an explanation. I knew I did… I just… it was never the right time.” He lets out a hollow laugh. “It’s probably not the right time now, either,” he says, gesturing around us at the cave, “but I need you to know I’m sorry about that. I never meant to hurt you. When I realized that you were my mate, all of the reasons why I couldn’t make you mine popped into my head. And I wanted to. Luna, did I want to… but I couldn’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Tristan sinks down so we’re on the same level. “The curse,” he says simply. “It wasn’t broken then. No matter who you were, or why you came to Winter Creek, I could tell you were a she-wolf. The curse would affect you if you were mine. Just like I did Ellie.”

Well. No. It wouldn’t, but despite sensing my wolf, Tristan had no idea I was Luna-touched.

But since he didn’t…

“Okay. But what’s your excuse for how you acted after that?”

“You wanted me to stay away. Running was my first mistake. I didn’t want you to get involved with the curse and… I panicked. Simple as that. I panicked, and by the time I tried to make things right, you were gone.”

“Nabbed by the witches,” I remind him.

Tristan growls under his breath.

Luna, that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. Not right now, at least.

I shake my head. “And washing your scent off of me? What about that?”

“If Lucas knew a wolf shifter was in Winter Creek, he’d insist on taking you under his protection.” He slaps his chest with the flat of his palm. “I wanted to protect you, Jeannie. You’re my mate.”

I blink. My tongue darts out, swiping at the corner of my mouth. Fuck. I’ve never been so turned-on in my life, and there’s only one way I can think to bring up in order to throw a bucket of cold water on my hormones.

“This is about Fallon and Lucas, isn’t it?”

“No,” Tristan says quickly. He pauses for a moment, then changes his mind. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe a little.”

I snort. “Figures.”

Tristan drops to his knees, taking my hands in his. “No. Wait. Jeannie… it’s not what I mean. When Fallon came to Winter Creek, she was the spitting image of Jolie. I never knew Lucas’s first mate. He kept her away from the pack and she died so soon after that. But he had her photograph. I knew that Fallon was his Jolie come back to him… the female who would help break the curse… but there was something about her. She called to me?—”

Another snort. “Trust me. Fallon has that effect on everybody.”

“But I’m a wolf shifter. She’s Luc’s fated mate. I should’ve felt that draw. And then… I met you. Compared to the magnetic pull I had toward you… I was wrong. Wooing Fallon… that was just another mistake in a long line of them. But I know why now. The Luna told me. I didn’t want Fallon because of her. I felt that connection because, deep down, she was the first tie I ever had to my true fated mate.” He squeezes my hands. “To you.”

“Wait a second… are you saying that the Luna spoke to you?”

Before or after she went quiet?

“She whispered your name to me. After I ran from you… from us. When I didn’t know what was going on because, remember, I know shit when it comes to females and mates. Jean Louise Lipton… she told me we were meant for each other.” He pauses again, and I can hear his grin. “And I was an idiot the other day for not realizing that the Luna was the second soul who could use your full name. But I hold to what I said. I’ll be the third.”

The last time he said that, I threatened to carve Jeannie in his chest. Now? I just mull over everything he said.

He obviously spoke to her before she went quiet. If that’s the case, though, then?—

“Why didn’t she tell me? I’m her avatar on Earth. I’ve spent my whole life serving her as her guardian.”

And I’m also the one who refused to listen anytime she offered to whisper the name of my fated mate to me. She knew me. Basically raised me and Lorelei after she decided it was time we moved on from our parents’ den. She had to know that the bad twin wouldn’t just accept her mate without a struggle.

Sex, sure. I’ve fucked other males for less. But someone I could love and trust and share my life like I do my twin?

That would be a little bit harder.

I tug my hands out of his. The pang of my rejecting him skitters down our bond. At the same time, my arms prickle, then ache as that old familiar pain hits me.

What the…

Hold on. When he said you wanted me to stay away…

“I never wanted you to leave me alone,” I argue. “The opposite, Tristan. You’re the one who blocked our bond.”

He’s on his knees. Barely a feet separates us, but even if he was on the other side of the cave, I couldn’t miss the meaningful look on his face as he meets my gaze and says, “It wasn’t me.”

“Of course it was you. Because if you didn’t cut off our bond, then that means?—”

That means…

That means I did.

I’m a shit liar, but I guess I really can lie to myself. Because all this time, I was sure he was the one who was rejecting me. Did I… did take his initial rejection and turn it around on him so that he couldn’t hurt me again?

Not gonna lie. That’s a very Jeannie thing to do. Ask Lorelei. Ask Fallon.

Ask the Luna.

I reach out, clutching his shoulders. “I thought…”

“It’s okay, Jeannie.”

It’s not. For three months, I wanted to believe I couldn’t stand this male. I knew it wasn’t true, but I did honestly believe he wanted nothing to do with me. And now he’s telling me that I got it all wrong, that I wasted so much time?

Well, screw that. I’m not wasting anymore.

I rise up to my knees, moving before he has any idea what I’m going to do. Folding my legs around him, dropping down to his lap, I throw my arms over his shoulder before taking his mouth with mine.

It’s like that first night all over. All I had to do was give him an opening, some sign that I would welcome him, and my Beta runs with it. One hand goes to my lower back, the other to my tangled hair, and the next thing I know, he’s devouring me.

Maybe he tastes like worms. Maybe not. To me, he tastes like my mate, and I let him kiss me until he pulls away with a jagged gasp, resting his forehead against mine.

Breathlessly, he says, “I thought you weren’t going to kiss me.”

I shrug. “You complaining?.”

“Oh, my mate. I’d be a fool to complain about that.” He moves his head just enough to press a kiss to the shell of my ear. “And I might be an idiot, but I’m not a fool.”

“And I’m not your mate.”