Chapter 10 Wen
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Wen
My feet were killing me.
After closing the bookstore and helping Malachar clean up, I trudged toward the stairs leading to the apartment. Every step was an effort. My legs felt like jelly. My back ached from hours of standing and reaching and managing the controlled chaos that had been my day.
I was three steps from the top when my foot slipped.
“Shit!” I yelped, arms flailing as I fell backwards.
Strong hands caught me. One arm around my waist, the other cradling my back. I was suspended in mid-air for a heartbeat before being pulled against a solid chest.
Malachar.
Of course.
“Careful, little mate,” he murmured. His voice was rough and low. “I would hate for you to injure yourself.”
I was pressed against him. Could feel every muscle, every inch of his body against mine. He was still wearing just the blanket, and I was very aware of how little fabric separated us.
“I’m fine,” I managed. “You can put me down now.”
“Can I?” His arms tightened slightly. “Or should I carry you the rest of the way? You seem... unsteady.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Then let me help.”
“I don’t need-”
“You always say that.” His face was close to mine. I could see the flecks of gray in his red eyes. Could feel his breath on my skin. “You never need help. Never need anyone. But what if I need to help you? What if being near you, caring for you, is what keeps me sane in this strange world?”
My heart was doing that stuttering thing again. “Mal-”
His eyes flashed. Brightened. A low rumble started in his chest that vibrated through both of us.
“Say that again.”
“What?”
“My name. The shortened version. Say it again.”
“Mal?”
He groaned. Actually groaned. The sound went straight through me, pooling heat low in my belly. “Yes. That. I like when you call me that. It feels... intimate. Ours.”
We were so close. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Every nerve ending was on fire. How was it that he made me so hot all the damn time? It was getting ridiculous. I couldn’t control my hormones around him. Couldn’t think straight.
“You drive me insane, little mate,” he whispered. His lips were inches from mine. “Every moment. Every breath. You have no idea what you do to me.”
He finally set me down, but I was standing one step above him. Even that way, he still towered over me. His hands went to my hips immediately, gripping tight enough to leave marks. Yanking me closer until there was no space between us.
Then he buried his face in my neck.
I forgot how to breathe.
“What are you doing?” The words came out as a whisper.
“Scenting you.” His voice was muffled against my skin. “Marking you with my scent. Making sure anyone who comes near you knows you are mine.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s very possessive.”
“I am possessive. You are my mate. My fated match. Every instinct I have demands I claim you. Mark you. Make sure the entire world knows you belong to me.”
His grip tightened on my hips and he nuzzled deeper into my neck, breathing in like he was trying to memorize my scent.
My neck had always been sensitive, and feeling his breath, his lips barely grazing my skin, sent shivers racing down my spine.
Heat flooded through me, pooling between my thighs.
I could feel my pulse racing where his mouth hovered, every nerve ending sparking to life.
He groaned against my skin, the sound vibrating through me. I felt him inhale deeply, drinking in my scent with desperate need.
“Mal...” I whispered the nickname again, loving the way he reacted, the way his whole body tensed, the feeling of power it gave me.
“Keep saying my name like that,” he ordered. His voice had gone rough. Commanding. “I love hearing it from your lips.”
My hands moved without permission. Tangled in his hair. The strands were soft, silky. I tugged gently, not to pull him away but to hold him there. To anchor myself.
He kissed my neck, starting with soft brushes of his lips that made me shiver, then pressing harder, using his tongue to trace patterns on my skin.
His teeth scraped along the sensitive flesh, nipping gently and then soothing each bite with his tongue.
The combination of pain and pleasure made me gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair.
He found the spot where my neck met my shoulder and sucked hard enough to mark, his teeth grazing over the same place until I was trembling against him.
I couldn’t fight the arousal anymore. Couldn’t pretend I wasn’t affected. I was sure I was dripping wet. My entire body was on fire.
“Mal, this is...”
“Right.” He licked up the column of my throat and I nearly passed out. My skin was tingling everywhere he touched. Everywhere he breathed. “This is right. You and me. The bond. All of it.”
He took another deep breath. Then, with what seemed like enormous effort, he let me go. Stepped back. Put distance between us.
His voice was gravel when he spoke. “But I promised myself I would go slow. That I would court you properly. That I would not rush you or push you into accepting something you are not ready for. I am sorry. I got carried away.”
I blinked at him. Tried to process words when my brain was still stuck on the feeling of his mouth on my neck.
“Your arousal drives me insane,” he continued. His eyes were still red. Still hungry. “The scent of it. Knowing I affect you this way. It makes my control slip.”
I froze.
“My... my arousal?” The words came out strangled.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yes. I can scent it on you.” He said it like it was obvious. Like everyone could smell arousal. “It is quite... potent right now.”
Oh god. Oh no. No no no.
I was embarrassed with a capital E. Someone please kill me now. Strike me down with lightning. Let the earth open up and swallow me whole.
“That is so damn unfair,” I muttered. My cheeks were burning. I was thinking about all the times I’d been aroused around him. Which was nearly all the time. Every single day. Multiple times a day.
He’d known. This entire time, he’d known.
I hated it here.
“So unfair,” I mumbled again, looking anywhere but at him.
“What is unfair, little mate?” He tilted my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his eyes. He was breathtaking. Absolutely devastating. “Tell me.”
“That you can smell me but I can’t,” I whispered the truth. It was frustrating. If I had to be embarrassed, the fair thing would be for him to be embarrassed too. Equal humiliation. That was only right.
“You wish to know when I am aroused?” His voice dropped even lower and he yanked me closer again, eliminating the distance he’d just put between us. “Is that what you want, little mate?”
I didn’t think before I answered. “Yes.”
His smirk was absolutely wicked. He grabbed one of my hands, the touch sending electricity up my arm. Then he dragged it down his chest. Over those ridiculous abs. Down to the blanket barely covering him.
I swallowed hard.
He cupped my hand over his cock through the fabric and groaned deep in his chest.
He was hard. Steel hard. Massive and throbbing beneath my palm.
“This is how I am every time I am around you, little mate.” His voice was barely human.
All gravel and need. “It does not matter where we are or what we are doing. Do not be mistaken - I yearn for you every single minute of the day. There is not one second I do not wish to be around you. Inside you. Behind you. In every single fucking position imaginable.”
The words hit me straight in the core. My breath caught. My hand was still pressed against him, feeling him pulse beneath the thin fabric.
I squeezed.
His reaction was immediate. A guttural moan tore from his throat. His grip on me turned bruising. His eyes rolled back slightly.
I did it again. Squeezed harder. Stroked along the length of him through the blanket. He was huge, impossibly thick, and I could feel every ridge and vein through the thin fabric.
“Little mate-” It was a warning. “You should stop. If you keep-”
I kept going. I didn’t know what had come over me. Didn’t recognize myself. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t resist the temptation to see him come undone.
His head fell forward against my shoulder. His breathing turned ragged. Desperate. His hips moved involuntarily, thrusting into my hand.
“Wen-” My name was a prayer. A plea.
I stroked him faster, squeezed harder, wrapping my fingers around as much of his length as I could.
His cock was pulsing against my palm, growing impossibly harder.
I could feel the pre-cum soaking through the blanket, making the fabric slick.
His whole body was trembling against mine, muscles tensing as he fought for control.
Then he was coming. His cock jerked and spasmed in my hand, and I felt the wetness spreading rapidly through the fabric.
He made a broken sound against my shoulder, half moan and half growl, as his release pulsed again and again.
I kept stroking him through it, feeling every throb, every shudder that wracked his body.
The blanket was soaked now, clinging to him, and I could feel the heat and wetness against my palm as he emptied himself with a final, desperate thrust into my hand.
He panted against me. His entire body shaking. His grip on me was the only thing keeping both of us upright.
I cleared my throat. Pulled my hand back. My right hand was tingling where I’d touched him. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. What had possessed me to-
“I’ll make dinner,” I blurted out.
Then I ran. Bolted up the last few stairs without tripping this time. Didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back because if I did, I’d see him standing there, wrecked and gorgeous, and I’d do something even more stupid.
I burst into the apartment. Stood in the middle of the kitchen, breathing hard.
What the hell had I just done?
I’d just made a werewolf come on the staircase. With my hand. Through a blanket. While he told me he wanted me in every position.
My hand was still tingling. I could still feel the weight of him.
Fuck dinner.
I walked straight to the bathroom. Turned on the shower. Stripped off my clothes with shaking hands. Stepped under the spray before the water was even warm.
The cold helped. Cleared my head slightly. But as the water heated up, so did my thoughts.
His mouth on my neck. His hands on my hips. His voice in my ear telling me he was always hard for me. Always wanting me.
My hand slipped between my legs without conscious thought.
I was soaked. Absolutely drenched. The water from the shower had nothing to do with it.
I touched myself, biting my lip to stay quiet. Circled my clit with shaking fingers. Imagined it was his hand instead of mine. His mouth. His-
“Mal,” I whimpered. Barely audible over the water. Just a breath of sound.
Glass shattered somewhere in the apartment.
I froze. My hand stilled.
Had he heard me? He was in the kitchen. The bathroom door was closed. The shower was running. There was no way he could have heard that. No way he-
But he had super hearing. Enhanced senses. He could probably hear my heartbeat from the other room. Could probably smell my arousal even through the running water.
Oh god.
Had he heard me? Had he heard me whisper his name while I touched myself?
I didn’t know what I wanted. Didn’t know if I hoped he hadn’t heard, hadn’t known what I was doing in here.
Or if some desperate part of me hoped he’d heard every moan.