Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VIDAR
The shift back to human form always felt like a slow, agonizing compression of the soul.
I stood in the damp grass, the cool night air biting at my skin as the heat of the run began to bleed away.
I kept my back to her as I listened to the wet, rhythmic sounds of her own bones snapping back into a human shape.
Parting my lips, I let the tip of my tongue escape my mouth and taste the raw, heady musk of her. The slick, heavy wetness between her thighs that the adrenaline from the run left behind. Or maybe it's because she wanted me.
I stood there and breathed it in, letting the primal scent of her arousal quiet the jagged, ever-working gears of my brain.
For the first time in months, the static of all my responsibilities — the balance sheets, the calculations, the endless run of numbers — went silent.
It was the best few seconds I’d had in a long while.
I pulled on my trousers, the fabric coarse against my sensitized skin. I left the rest. The ruined silk shirt, the Italian leather shoes. Discarded in the dirt like autumn leaves.
"You’re just leaving them?"
"The servants will take care of it," I said, finally turning to face her.
She was biting her lip, her emerald eyes fixed on the heap of designer fabric in the mud.
I knew that look. I knew a calculating brain when I saw one.
She was mentally tallying the thousands of dollars rotting in the grass.
It irked me. A daughter of a pack alpha shouldn't have to count pennies. It was a failure of her bloodline, a stain on her father’s house that she even knew the price of a shirt.
I made a silent note to double the allowance I’d placed in her accounts. No wife of mine would ever know the taste of lack again.
Our shadows stretched long across the stone paths as I led her back toward the house.
We bypassed the main foyer, moving instead toward the east wing—my wing of the Blackwood estate.
I watched Addie's expression as she took in the transition from the museum of the Great Hall to the lived-in opulence of the private quarters.
"Each member of the family has their own space on the property," I explained, my voice echoing in the wood-paneled hall. "There are suites below stairs for pack members who need shelter or a place to recover."
"This isn't how I was raised."
She didn't elaborate. The hollowness in her tone told me everything I needed to know about the cold, empty halls of the Vane stronghold. If memory serves, she'd grown up on the top floor of the Vanguard Hotel in upstate New York.
We reached a private gallery with four heavy oak doors. I stopped, gesturing to the space. "Your suite is the second on the right."
Addie looked at the row of doors, her brow furrowing. "Four bedrooms? What are the others for? Are you planning on a harem of wives, Vidar?"
"Blackwoods don't practice polyandry. Too much potential for jealousy. Too much room for disloyalty. My family prizes loyalty above everything else. We are one man, one mate. Always."
The air between us grew thick, the memory of pack betrayal hovering in the shadows of the hallway. Did she know about the wolf who betrayed my father? It was kept quiet, but stories liked to be told.
"The extra rooms are for our children."
I watched the way her throat moved as she swallowed. Tomorrow night I would get to bite that throat. The thought of her blood on my tongue, her cunt juices on my lips, it was going to keep me awake tonight.
I turned, reaching for the handle of the door adjacent to hers. "Goodnight, sweet Addie."
She gasped. It was a sound of genuine shock. I stopped, my hand on the brass, and looked back.
"I just thought..." she started, her face flushing a pretty shade of crimson. "I thought you’d want…" She let the sentence trail off, her gaze dropping to my bare chest.
I stepped back into her personal space. The heat from the run still radiated off my skin. She blinked a few times as though standing in the face of the afternoon sun. I hovered just inches from her, close enough to see the frantic pulse in her neck.
"You thought I’d want what?"
I'm a man who liked specificity. She was going to have to learn that lesson. Sooner rather than later.
"You thought I'd want to fuck you?"
Her lips parted, but she didn't let any words escape.
"Are you in heat, sweet Addie?"
She shook her head, her eyes wide.
I knew she wasn't. She wouldn't start her cycle until next week. My sources had been thorough.
"Are you horny?"
Addie looked affronted. Her jaw dropped as she recoiled an inch.
She was horny. I could smell it. The scent of her honey only grew when I'd spoken the words. My ears pricked, knowing that a viscous dollop was now sliding down her inner thigh. The right one if my nose was correct.
"It’s a simple binary, sweet Addie," I said, my gaze never leaving hers. "If you are fertile, we will fuck. It is our duty to the pack. If you are horny, you need to ask for it. I may have you cornered against your will, but I'm going to be your husband, not a rapist."
She didn't answer. But her lips parted. I watched it happen and felt the answering pull low in my gut. I kept my eyes on hers and didn't move. If she wanted to close the distance, she was going to have to do it herself.
Addie looked back with the fixed, unblinking attention of a woman who had forgotten she was supposed to be pretending she didn't want something.
Her eyes hadn't left my throat in the last thirty seconds.
Her right hand moved. Slow and unconscious, her fingers found her own forearm and stroked — once, twice — the pad of her thumb tracing a line from her wrist to her elbow in a rhythm that had nothing to do with being cold.
Her weight shifted forward. Not a step — barely even a lean. Her body was conducting a negotiation her mouth had refused to open.
I tilted my head. Her chin lifted in an unconscious mirror of it. The scent of her was loud enough now that keeping my expression neutral was costing me something I didn't usually have to spend.
"Addie."
Her breath came out unsteady.
"You have bunny in your hair."
She blinked. The spell snapped. Her hand flew to her hair. Her fingers found it immediately. When she pulled her hand away, a small tuft of white fur was caught between her fingers, pale against her skin in the low light of the hallway.
The color that hit her face was magnificent.
She tucked her chin and walked past me into the room at a pace that was not quite running and was fooling absolutely no one.
The door clicked shut behind her with the precise, controlled force of a woman who wanted very badly to slam it and had just barely stopped herself.
I stood in the hallway and let the chuckle come. I was going to have great fun making this woman heel. I turned on my heel, the wood of the floor cool beneath my bare feet.
"Goodnight, sweet Addie."