6. Chapter Six
The second I’m outside, I stomp to the tree line behind my house and let my bear burst out of me.
He’s whining about having left my mate behind, but I need to think. Running through the forest, stretching my muscles, and smelling anything that’s not tinged with honeysuckle will help. She makes me wild with that scent of hers, and it’s like I can’t think at all.
My instincts rear up with every whiff. It’s taking every ounce of my control not to pounce on her, claw her clothing off, and tell her all the ways I want to mark her heart, body, and soul as mine. I mean to brand her. Bury my cock inside her tight, wet, virgin pussy and pour my seed into her belly.
Ugh. No! Bad Cole. Bad!
I swing my head around, casting one last look at the outline of my cabin that I can just make out. My mate is in my house, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do about that.
Just leave her alone.
No, my bear answers.
I sniff the air, still catching traces of sweetened coffee and honey and all those goddamn baked goods she stockpiled. When I get back, I’m going to lock them all up in airtight containers and stress the importance of keeping her food locked away.
After I eat another one or two.
Moving through the brush, I trudge over the trails I’ve walked and run over a thousand times before, each paw pressing hard into the dirt as I climb up the mountain, clawing at the rock.
I never wanted to find a mate. Didn’t see the need for one. Not when I know exactly how devastating it would be if I had her and lost her.
Nothing is forever.
And facing that loss, in whatever way it comes, just might end me. I already lost my dad in the worst way possible. He was killed by the mad sorceress Magen when she was trying to complete some harebrained dark ritual that called for the blood of one who’d tasted true love. After he died, I nearly lost my mom in the aftermath.
The evil witch’s words still haunt me.
Love is the strongest magic there is.
And it was the one thing she’d never had.
I can’t give that much of myself to someone else, opening myself up to go through the kind of heartbreak I watched my mom weather.
No. I won’t allow it.
But I fucked up. I kissed her and deepened the mating bond even further.
Already, I can sense her confusion and scattered thoughts from here. I know she’s in my house, pacing, thinking about how that kiss played out and how fucking good she felt in my arms.
The strength of the mating bond between us shimmers like an indestructible golden thread.
I can feel her.
My bear wants to turn back, explain everything. Comfort her.
But I pad off the trail and claw my way up a steep hill, noticing for the first time that my hip doesn’t ache as much as it has the last few days. That it feels oddly limber, nearly as good as new. Maybe those two days I’d spent holed up in one of my dens sleeping off the effects of the accident really helped supercharge my healing powers.
Once I’m on a lower incline less traveled by tourists, I decide to test it and break into a run. Power ripples in my muscles as I push myself to the limit. Mile after mile, I try to outrun the memory of her in my arms, the taste of her on my tongue.
There’s no forgetting the way she clung to me, all her perfect soft curves rubbing against my body. I can’t scrub away the memory of her response to me, how her fingers bit into my shoulders, or how the scent of her arousal spurned me on to lose control.
I wasn’t sure I possessed the strength it required to rip myself off her while my bear urged me to mark her as mine. It was next to impossible to pull away, but if I hadn’t…
Not an option, Osborne.
I remind myself that there is no reason for me to even have a mate. I barely find myself attracted to any woman, and the few times I’ve been interested enough to initiate something, it’s been nothing but an unmitigated disaster.
No connection, no vibes. Just an awkward meeting of mouths, clashing of heads, and wandering hands trying to find a rhythm that seemed foreign to us both.
But it’d be different with my mate.
It is different with my mate.
It doesn’t matter. Having a mate means having a weakness. It means risking my heart, my soul, my very being if that mate was ever taken away.
Besides, my girl is nothing like me. A big-time city dweller from a famous family with a huge career and a whole other life far away from here.
What could I offer her? Nothing but a small, quiet, simple life in a tiny, tucked-away cabin. Only simple pleasures. Maybe some kids.
I shake my head.
To someone like that, what am I? Some small-town nobody. The owner, handyman, and tour guide for adventurers and campers.
Bullshit, my bear snuffles. Scents don’t lie.
It’s true. I didn’t get a whiff of glitz and glamor or the greed that I associate with rich-and-famous, red-carpet types—and plenty of them come to my mountain looking for respite in my lodges. But even if Rae’s perfectly happy giving all that up, I know being mated isn’t for me.
The best thing I can do right the fuck now is forget it.
Forget Rae.
Forget our kiss.
And especially, forget about our mating bond.
By the time I get back to the cabin, the sun’s dipped behind the mountain and the sky’s turned an inky kind of blue. Rae’s perched atop one of my chairs that’s too small for her with tiny earbuds shoved into her ears, blasting what sounds like some awful boy band pop music as her fingers fly over the keyboard.
I glance to the corner where a collapsed chair lays untouched and shake my head. That’ll need fixing pronto if she’s planning on planting her sweet ass in a chair for hours on end.
Then she turns, jumping half out of the chair and unleashing some kind of half-frightened squeak when she sees me standing there staring at her.
“Hey. I just got back. Didn’t mean to scare you.” I nod at her empty, sweating glass of ice on the table beside her. “Need another drink?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” She blinks several times, as if she’d been so absorbed in her work, she hadn’t even taken time to blink.
I frown as I go to refill her glass with the pitcher of honeysuckle tea sitting in the fridge. How long had she been sitting there?
“What time is it?” Rae pushes her glasses up her nose and makes a face as she peers outside.
“Time for a break,” I say simply, handing her the glass and watching her drink deeply from it. “Have you eaten?”
“Oh. No, I was on a roll. I didn’t realize how late it was. Should I heat up one of my casserole dishes?”
Grimacing, she rolls her shoulders and twists her head, trying to stretch out the tense muscles in her neck. My jaw clenches as I fight to keep my hands at my sides.
Do not offer to massage the woman. Do not—
“Come here,” I say gruffly, spinning her around and squeezing my hands along the tight muscles stretching over her shoulders. I work my fingers into her flesh, gritting my teeth when her head lolls back and she lets out a guttural moan that makes my dick spring to half-mast straight away.
Fuck me.
“Oh, right there. That’s it. That’s good. A little harder. I can take it.”
My cock hardens to steel, pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans as I increase the pressure and try not to picture her naked in my bed, perched on all fours with her dripping cunt sliding over me.
Sweat breaks out on my brow as I focus all my attention on working out the knots in her back and not her soft sighs and throaty moans.
“Harder, Cole.” She sighs blissfully as I slide my fingers over her stiff muscles. “Ohhh, God.”
I grit my teeth. If she keeps this up, I might blow my load at the sound of her voice alone. How fucking embarrassing would that be?
“Get ready. I’m taking you to dinner. You deserve a real break.”
Then I hightail it into the enormous bathroom, slam the door behind me, and turn on the shower with the setting on blisteringly cold. I shed my clothes as fast as I can, then dunk under the spray and wrap my hand around my shaft.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I stroke myself hard, swallowing down a groan and bracing myself against the wall. Ice-cold water rakes down my back, but it does nothing to take away from the lust pulsing in my veins.
It’s like my desire not to mate is completely overridden by pure need. My every instinct wants to please Rae, protect Rae, be near Rae. She draws me to her like a beam of sunshine in the thick of a dark forest, calling out to me with her throaty little moans and her unintentionally dirty little mouth that I want to see wrapped around the fat head of my cock.
“Is everything alright?” Her sweet voice filters through the sound of the water’s rainfall spray, and my head jerks up.
I shut the door, right? I fucking shut—
“Oh!”
Rae stands in the open doorway, her eyes huge and round and glued to the sight of me fisting my enormous erection.
“This isn’t…” What it looks like? It’s exactly what it looks like, you idiot. “Um. I told you it’d be hard to keep my hands off you.”
She raises her gaze to mine, and the raw hunger lighting up those evergreen eyes of hers nearly makes me sink to my knees. Slowly, I pump my hand over myself and watch as a steely determination comes over her. She throws her shoulders back. Lifts her chin stubbornly.
Then I swallow hard as she whips her shirt off and treats me to the sight of her heavy, unbound breasts swinging free. Her rosy-tipped nipples are already peaked and begging for my touch.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting ready. Like you told me to.” Then my sweet girl discards the rest of her clothes, and I get hit with the scent of her arousal wafting over to me. As she draws closer, I feel the remnants of my resistance crumble.
“For dinner?”
She steps into the shower with me and switches the spray to something less punishing.
“For you,” she corrects, sliding her hands up my belly and into the thick, dark hair covering my chest.
Groaning, I release my hold on my stiff cock and let it jut out between us. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“You said you didn’t want a mate. That’s fine. This can be one of those holiday hookups I keep hearing about.”
I frown. “I don’t want to be a holiday hookup.”
“You don’t have to make me any promises. I’m a big girl. I know people can enjoy intimacy without having to make a commitment. You said if you stayed, you’d find it hard to keep your paws off me.” She looks up at me through her lashes and drags her fingertips down, down, down my body. “I don’t want you to keep your hands off me, Cole. Do you want me to keep mine off you?”
“No,” I whisper hoarsely.
Then her delicate fingers curl around my cock and I involuntarily jerk my hips forward. Already seeking her dripping heat. Already so close to spilling my seed.
“I’ve never done this before.” She leans in, trails warm little kisses along my chest, and gives me a tentative stroke. “Will you show me how you like it?”
“After.”
“After what?”
I slide to my knees, turning her toward the wall and positioning her just as I want her. Arms braced. Ass out. Thighs open.
She casts a questioning look over her shoulder, the blonde strands of her hair wet and stuck to her back. Rivulets of water skim over her curves and I want to chase every one of them with my tongue.
Instead, I kneel and run my hands over her thighs, inching toward the juncture between her legs. But when I scatter kisses along her legs, blazing a trail that leads me to the promised land between her legs, she gives a small squeal of surprise when I use my hands to spread her cheeks.
Glistening, sweet temptation greets me and I let out a growl of approval.
“This honey pot is all mine.” I run the tip of my nose along her soft folds, groaning as my cock twitches. She gasps as I drag one finger across her seam. “Jesus, you’re so wet for me, Goldie.”
She squirms and whimpers, hips wiggling.
Wanting.
“And I’m going to lick every single drop of nectar you give me.” Then I dip my head and slide my tongue along her slit, smiling when I hear her gasp above me.