Chapter 31 #2
To him, the path forward is an obvious one. The rejected mate syndrome will only ease once our bond is healed, and I need his mark to survive the near eight years’ worth of suppressed heats nipping at my heels. To him, it’s simply a ‘two birds, one bite’ kind of situation.
But I had still refused, stubbornly digging my feet in. Not because I still doubt him, or us, but because I meant it when I said we need time. And knowing how little of it we have, makes every moment count. I refuse to waste a breath of it.
To say he accepted this would be…generous. He merely postponed the battle, jaw clenched, sheathing the argument like a blade he plans to draw again the second I give him a sliver of an opening.
I draw in a fortifying breath, steeling myself, and shoring up my mental walls for the verbal sparring match that might be headed my way if he decides now is the right moment to pick up that sword again.
Instead, his lips press softly to the same crease of my thigh.
Goosebumps erupt across my skin.
And just like that, I’m no longer braced for battle at all.
He shocks me again by asking a question that has nothing to do with bonding, or marks, or the fight I was anticipating.
“Did you like waking up like that?” His voice is low, almost casual, mouth close enough that I feel the words as much as hear them. “With me between your thighs? Devouring you, Noa?”
His words alone have my breath hitching, but it’s the way his lips continue to travel across my skin, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouth kisses across my pelvic bone, that has a new wave of aching need igniting in my veins.
“Yes.”
I don’t deny it. Pretending to not enjoy what he did—to not crave more—seems like a pointless endeavor. Even when I can’t quite articulate or understand why I enjoyed the way he blurred the lines of consent by waking me up with his tongue buried in me.
I decide I don’t need to interrogate pleasure. Not everything that feels good needs to be justified. Not between us. I just need to listen to myself and trust the answer.
But I also know that I can fall blindly into this because it’s him. Rennick. My mate. And I can finally admit that I trust him to not hurt me. Body or heart.
He doesn’t react the way I expect. I brace for him to lunge for me—for him to surge forward, hunger snapping tight now that I’ve admitted it. Instead, he turns his head and traces the same slow, unhurried path along my other thigh, like he’s savoring the answer instead of devouring it.
“Would you like me to do it again?” His voice stays gentle. Deceivingly calm. “Wake you up with my tongue some other time?”
Duh.
“Yes.”
“Would you want just my mouth?” he asks, pausing in his trail of kisses.
He lifts his head then, gray eyes dark and searching as they meet mine from between my thighs.
“Or would you want more next time? While you dream, do you want me to get your pussy wet and aching for me, and then wake you up by sinking my thick cock in you, baby?”
The thought—and the images that follow—nearly short-circuits my brain. Heat and need coil tight and insistent, my hips lifting toward his face in silent offering of their own accord. Like they’re already answering his question for me.
The sound I make is quiet but unmistakably one of a wanting omega.
I don’t give him a simple yes or no. I give him something more than that.
“I trust you not to hurt me, Ren.”
He finally reacts.
The shift is so quick my thoughts lag behind it.
He’s there between my legs, then he’s not.
On his knees, Rennick’s arms wrap around my middle and lift me from the nest. My legs wrap around his waist, and my chest collides with his.
I melt into him instinctually, craving all points of contact I can get.
When he kisses me it’s dripping with unrestrained urgency.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I taste myself there, the intimacy of it making my head spin.
When he finally pulls away, we’re both breathing hard.
He stands from the nest with me still in his arms, my limbs hooking tightly around him automatically as he holds me close.
“Where are we going?” I rasp. A little disoriented, I glance back toward the nest I don’t really want to leave. “I thought… I thought we were going to…” The rest of the question trails off.
He glances down at me tenderly as he steps out of the closet and into the bright blanket of morning light filling his bedroom. “Trust me, I want to.”
I blink against the sudden brightness, trying to clear my now spotty vision.
“But you don’t heal like a wolf,” he continues gently. “Not yet, anyway. And I know you’re probably still sore from last night—”
“I’m fine.”
“I wasn’t as gentle with you as I should have been,” he says, completely unfazed, like I hadn’t spoken at all.
“And who says I wanted gentle?” I counter, lifting my brow. “I’ve gone too long without your touch, Ren. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling’s fucking mutual.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Why do you think I couldn’t resist putting my hands you, even when you were sleeping?”
My face heats.
He carries me into the bathroom, past the massive shower we already christened last night, and heads toward the very large soaking tub. He keeps one arm securely around me while he reaches down to start filling it.
Standing straight again, he waits for the water to heat.
“I know you say you’re okay,” he tells me quietly, dipping his head so his forehead rests against mine.
“But everything in me is screaming to take care of you right now.” His voice takes on a rough, raw edge that makes my chest clench.
“You won’t accept my mark yet, and knowing you’re going to keep suffering without it makes me feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.
I can’t fix that yet. But I can give you a bath.
I can help ease the ache I caused. Will you let me do that, baby?
Will you let me tend to you the only way I can right now? Please.”
He said please.
How can I possibly refuse him now? And besides, only a fool refuses a man who wants to give them a bubble bath.
I nod, agreeing, but I still add my condition. “Only if you join me.”
The look on his face tells me it was never even a question.
Something raw and restless has started to stir beneath Rennick’s skin.
I sensed it the moment he lifted me from the bathtub, wrapped me in a towel, and kissed both my flushed cheeks
And I can’t even blame him for the way he’s fraying at the edges. It was only a matter of time before the weight of everything caught up with him. Distracting himself between my thighs was only feasible for so long.
Last night was a lot. First, he learned the truth about my impending heat, and as if that wasn’t enough, we were dragged into that nightmare my mother left behind—forced to act as witnesses to the trauma we’d lived through and then were forced to forget.
And Revelations like that don’t sink quietly into bones. They shake the whole damn foundation.
After our bath, he continues to give a valiant effort at pretending all of it is sitting fine within him. Holds the line through getting ready for the day, through breakfast, even through handing me my daily vanilla latte with a smile that stops short of his eyes.
I almost believe him.
It all comes to a head over the dirty juice cup he’s cleaning at the sink. The innocent glass never stood a chance against him, and it all but explodes into glitter in his tense grip. The sound of it shattering makes me jump where I stand at the fridge, putting away leftovers.
Dodging glass shards, I make my way to him and wordlessly hold the dish rag to the fresh cuts on his palm. His hand trembles in my hold, but I know it’s not pain causing it.
“Okay, you’re done,” I tell him softly, but firm, trying to be the steady one for both of us. “Go. Let your wolf out and run it off, Ren. If you keep this up, you’ll be gnawing on the furniture like a teething puppy by lunch.”
His protest is immediate.
“I don’t need to run,” he snaps, his voice low and hoarse. “What I need is to stay here, close to you, and make sure this damn…sickness…doesn’t have you bleeding from your fucking nose or you passing out on me for hours again.”
It takes effort to not recoil from the force of his tone, and I have to remind myself that this isn’t anger.
It’s fear wearing its sharpest edges. But I’d be lying if I said that a part of me didn’t quietly agree with him or harbor the same fear.
I know the second he steps away, the decay currently waiting in the wings will be eager to reoccupy whatever space he vacates.
I draw a careful breath and remind him of the crucial fact that he’s overlooking.
“I spent nearly eighteen hours curled up in the nest with you. Sleeping on your chest. Stealing your strength. I feel…good right now.” Nearly whole again.
Not fully out of danger, though, but I can at least breathe without flinching.
“And because of your borderline obsessive attention to detail when bathing me this morning, I’m thoroughly coated in your scent. ”
His alpha musk tangles thickly with my own sweetening omega perfume, leaving it impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Every inhale soothes the raised scars I collected when my body was trying to decide whether or not it wanted to live without him.
It’s not confused anymore.
Our bond still might be frayed, but my body knows exactly who it belongs to.
Rennick’s nostrils flare as he draws in a deep breath, like he needs to reassure himself that I smell enough like him. His eyes darken in response, my scent tugging at the already restless animal beneath his skin.
“Noa…”
He’s still not convinced.
Fine.