Chapter Twenty-five
When her eyes fluttered open the next morning, Emberlyn found herself looking at a sleeping Ripper. He lay beside her, one hand resting on her ass, his breathing deep and easy. She froze, snapping to full alertness.
Only let a werewolf sleep in your bed if you don’t mind that they might never leave it.
It was a well-known quip. A jokey reminder that they attached; that their social etiquette was different.
For a witch, it could mean little to nothing if they stayed over. For a werewolf, it meant that they saw you as far more than a bed partner. It went beyond them feeling possessive of and comfortable with you. It showed that they also trusted you enough to be in such a vulnerable state around you.
Emberlyn’s lungs clutched tight. Few people had given her their trust – understandable, but a little sad. So it meant something to her that Ripper trusted her, because it indicated that he saw past her reputation.
As for the message he was sending by sleeping over . . . Wait, was he sending a message? Could it be that he’d fallen asleep accidentally? Because it seemed that she had, since she had no memory of doing so.
She remembered their sex marathon; remembered they’d come upstairs shortly after dinner and he’d talked her into showering with him.
They’d barely dried off before he’d tossed her onto the bed and gone down on her.
She’d returned the favor and . . . then it was blank, so she’d obviously drifted off after that.
Considering they were under the covers, their heads on the pillows, he’d obviously moved her around some. And he’d either decided to stay or simply conked out. The latter wasn’t farfetched – a night of endless hot sex could steal a person’s energy. It had certainly stolen hers.
But if his falling asleep in her bed hadn’t been accidental . . . Emberlyn didn’t know how to feel about it. Much as she wanted something lasting with Ripper, the idea of ‘more’ was a little scary. This wasn’t a simple boy-meets-girl situation. Their histories were messy and complicated.
If Ripper had purposely stayed over, it didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted the ultimate commitment.
Werewolf attachments could be temporary, just as they could be platonic – or, for that matter, switch swiftly from romantic to platonic at some point.
But the last time she’d been in this situation, the attachment hadn’t been temporary or remained platonic.
She’d eventually been officially claimed by a wolf who had later betrayed her.
So this whole thing was tap-dancing all over her nerves.
She’d never in her life been vital to anyone.
Her father had left her without a backward glance.
Her mother had withdrawn from her due to heartbreak.
Millicent hadn’t ever put her first, and the rest of her family had had little to do with her.
It should have been different with Michael.
He’d been her mate, for Christ’s sake. Yet, he’d cheated on her; acted as if he didn’t need to apologize for it. And then he’d disappeared.
After a lifetime of being disappointed by others, she’d become used to being on her own; to only relying on herself. It was her comfort zone, at this point. If Ripper did want more, he wouldn’t stand for that. Already he pushed for more than he was due.
But he gave so much back, didn’t he?
Always supporting her. Always so protective of her. Always trying to take care of her.
He seemed so in tune with her. If her mood changed, he sensed it. If she fidgeted, he noted it. If her body stiffened even slightly, he stilled just the same.
It was strange to have someone so focused on her. Someone for whom she was never an afterthought. Someone who saw and accepted her. She’d come to like it, and she knew it’d hurt like hell to lose it.
Her full bladder nagging her for relief, Emberlyn slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. Nabbing a long white T-shirt from the futon, she drew it over her head and went into the en suite bathroom. She did her business, freshened up, moisturized and brushed her hair.
Exiting the bathroom a short time later, she halted at the sight of Ripper sitting on the edge of her bed in only his boxers. A searing heat crept through her as his eyes roamed over every inch of her body from head to toe. He could make her feel so very hyperaware of not only herself but also him.
‘You practically roll out of bed looking all perfect, don’t you?’ he grumbled.
She blinked. ‘Not really. Though I’d thank you for the compliment all the same if you didn’t sound so put out.’
‘Not put out,’ he said. ‘I just don’t find it fair that you have that advantage over us mere mortals.’
Emberlyn snorted – a sound that died as he stood upright and stretched. Oh, what a show. Muscles rippled and flexed so deliciously. She cleared her throat, walking further into the room. ‘I don’t remember falling asleep.’
‘I went to use the bathroom after you sucked me dry,’ he said bluntly, lowering his arms. ‘When I came back, you were out.’
‘So you tucked me into bed and, what, decided to stay?’
He slammed an unblinking stare on her, an unwavering determination glimmering there. ‘I did.’
So it hadn’t been an accident. He’d chosen to stay. And his tone said she could like it or lump it – he gave no fucks.
That was an Alpha werewolf for you. They were all a law unto themselves.
She folded her arms. ‘I don’t recall inviting you to sleep over.’
‘Must have slipped your mind.’
Her pulse did a little skip as he began stalking toward her, sheer intent in every step.
Looming over her, he sniffed at her face and hair. ‘I like the strawberry smell of your shampoo. Like it better when it’s mingled with my scent.’
He was so damn casual. As if nothing had changed. As if it were only natural that he had moments ago woken in her bed.
Studying her face, he rested his palms on the sides of her neck. ‘Unwind, baby,’ he coaxed, his pitch low, his voice soft. ‘What’s happening is good. Don’t fight it. Let it be.’
‘You sure you’re not still just caught up in the full moon’s high?’
‘I’m sure.’ He held her gaze with a serious stare, his face a mask of intensity. ‘I don’t know how you made yourself this important to me so fast, but here we are. It’s done.’
He said it with such finality. Such acceptance. He clearly wasn’t one bit torn over this.
Still cupping her neck, he breezed his thumbs along the underside of her jaw.
‘I should have seen it coming, really.’ His eyes drifted over her face, aglow with possession.
‘You’re magick, Vogue, deadly nightshade and pure class all wrapped into one.
It’s a hell of a package. And there’s a hint of cotton candy there. ’
She felt her brow fly up. ‘Cotton candy?’
‘Sweetness,’ he expanded. ‘You don’t let many people see it. I see it.’
There seemed to be little that the perceptive motherfucker didn’t see.
He nuzzled her face in a gesture of affection that made her chest pang. ‘Don’t fight it,’ he repeated. ‘Let’s ride this out; see what does or doesn’t come of it. Can you agree to do that?’
She watched him, her gaze hawklike in its predatory intensity. There was a hint of caution there. Always so careful, his witch.
Ripper thought it ironic that many townsfolk believed her to be reckless. In truth, there were no impulsive or ill-thought-out moves with Emberlyn. She did everything with purpose.
That cautiousness stemmed from having no one at her back, he supposed. You could never afford to set a foot wrong when there was nobody to catch you if you fell.
She had him now. Fuck, she’d ‘had’ him for weeks. He just hadn’t seen it.
Now, he could no longer deny or ignore that – to put it simply – he was fucked. Totally fucked. All caught up in his witch’s web . . . and completely okay with it.
Ripper had fallen asleep beside her with no idea how she’d react to what it signified.
Given that she’d been heavily involved with a werewolf before and things had later gone tits up, he hadn’t known what reaction to expect from her.
His witch was handling it as calmly as she did everything else. But . . . she was leery.
Of course she was.
Emberlyn had been let down one too many times by one too many people.
They were all fuckers, in his opinion. They’d made it so that she was so unused to people wanting to keep her around for good that she now struggled to believe he wasn’t going anywhere.
He couldn’t make her any promises, because he had no idea if they’d work in the long-run. But he didn’t foresee it going to shit.
While he had known in the beginning that he wouldn’t be able to have her only once, he hadn’t anticipated that he’d come to want more. But the pull between them . . . there was no ‘getting used to it’, no softening its hard edges, no developing an immunity to it. Because it had tied them.
There had been only two other women he’d felt something real for. But it was more intense with Emberlyn. More defined. More set. She meant something to him. Held an endless fascination for him.
She had so many layers. Some tough, some vulnerable. And when she allowed him to see flashes of those vulnerabilities – and she really did allow it; there were no accidental slips with Emberlyn – it got to him.
She was his equal in every way. She didn’t fear him. Didn’t pander to him. Didn’t treat him like he was an Alpha. And she made no compunction about speaking her mind around him. Hell, she’d once fucking threatened him.
More, she entrusted him with the part of her who liked being taken in bed.
She’d trusted him with a secret that few knew.
She’d let him in little by little, found her way past his every defense, and now it was too late for them to go back.
They could only go forward and let it all play out.
‘You had to know we were heading in this direction, baby.’
Unfolding her arms, she set her hands on her hips. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d want anything serious just yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because of all that crap with CeCe.’
‘You don’t think I still want her, do you?’
‘No. But when a person you care about kills what you feel for them, it doesn’t exactly leave you in the mood to begin a full-on relationship with someone else.’
‘Maybe that’d be the case for me if the woman standing in front of me was anyone but you.
’ He slid a hand from the side of her neck around to her nape.
He tugged her closer, nuzzling her face again.
‘I told you once that I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.
It was no lie, no exaggeration. With each piece of you I got to know, another piece of CeCe went right out of my head.
There’s no room for her or anyone else up there now. Only you.’
Emberlyn fell silent, ever watchful. But she didn’t stare at him, she stared into his eyes – intent, probing, searching. ‘You mean that,’ she eventually said.
‘Yeah, I mean it.’ He swept his thumb up the column of her throat. ‘You have me. She never did. I shared her. I would never share you. If anyone dared touch you, I’d break their fucking fingers.’ He wasn’t kidding.
Her brows inched up. ‘Overboard.’
‘Yet true.’ He briefly touched the tip of his nose to hers.
‘Now let’s get off the subject of CeCe and discuss what has you wound tight.
It’s a bundle of things that are all interlinked.
No one ever made you feel that you’re enough exactly as you are, which pisses me the fuck off.
But you know it isn’t the case with me. I make you feel accepted, known, understood – just as I make you feel owned every time I’m inside you.
You’ve never had any of that before. Not fully.
And it rattles you that you now do. But it doesn’t need to. You’re safe with me.
‘You weren’t safe with the coven; they wouldn’t accept you. You weren’t safe with Michael; he let you down. You weren’t even completely safe with Millicent; she wasn’t there for you emotionally. But, baby, I swear you’re safe with me.’
Her throat bobbed, and she dropped her gaze.
‘Don’t hide from me,’ he said, his tone soft. ‘Eyes back to mine.’
‘No.’
Well, of course she couldn’t just do as he’d asked without hesitation. She never did. But it was one of the many things he liked about her. ‘Em, look at me.’
She did, though he figured that was more due to her surprise at his abbreviating her name.
He slid both his hands up to cradle her face. ‘You trust me?’
‘I wouldn’t have told you the truth of what happened with Michael if I didn’t.’
He’d suspected as much. ‘Then trust that I mean everything I’ve said here.’
Her eyelids drifted down, and a long breath eased out of her. Finally, her eyes met his again – the conflict was now gone, replaced by a hard determination. ‘We’ll ride this out, then. But, Rip, if you fuck me over—’
‘Won’t happen,’ he stated, relief blowing through him. He’d worried that she might put up roadblocks or demand they slow things down. That wasn’t how his kind operated.
Werewolves liked their space and boundaries, and they were careful how much of themselves they gave to another person. But if such an intense attachment formed, they had no limits.
‘No threats are necessary.’ He skated his hands upward and sank his fingers into her hair. ‘Keep trusting me. There’ll never be a time when you can’t. I swear that to you.’
She swallowed, the last of the cautiousness in her gaze draining away; the stiffness leaching from her frame as she leaned slightly into his touch.
Good girl. He nuzzled her temple. ‘Now, let’s have breakfast. I’m fucking famished.’ He held his breath, half-expecting her to suggest he head downstairs and get started on breakfast while she showered – needing to snatch a little alone-time to process.
Her eyes still holding his, she gave a slow nod. ‘Okay.’
His chest clenched. Because that easy and simple agreement – no hesitation, no vying for space, no indication that she had any reservations – showed she really was all in this. Good. He truly couldn’t have accepted anything else.