Chapter 10 - Ronan
Ten days. That’s how long she’s been under my roof, and it’s about nine too long for my sanity.
The plan sounded simple enough. I couldn’t risk her trying to escape again, so I brought her closer to let proximity finish what I’d already started.
My wolf could already feel her body softening to me, however much she wanted to deny it.
Witches may not feel the bond the way shifters do, but they’re not immune to the pull entirely, and as the only warm thing in this cold world on offer, I knew it wouldn’t take much, and she’d give in to my advances. It was just a matter of time.
Then I could get back to the only thing that’s ever mattered.
And it’s working. The problem is, it’s working on both of us.
I told myself that I’d enjoy feeling her start to give, watching the bond magic begin to do its work, and I’d stay clear-headed through all of it because I’m so focused on my own mission. I’m the one running this. Selene is my plan.
I was wrong.
Every morning, she walks out of her room, her hair a cascade of curls, her cheeks flushed, wearing a simple T-shirt, and my wolf nearly takes my legs from under me.
It’s like she’s trying to draw me in, though I’m not sure she even realizes what she’s doing.
Our games of chess have reached a whole new level of competitiveness, and I find myself enjoying them more and more.
The fire in her eyes when she realized I was actually a worthy opponent makes me want even more from her.
And that’s just the beginning. I’ve started leaving the good coffee out for her.
I bought Maeve’s honey from the bakery, even though I never usually bother keeping much in the kitchen.
I find myself watching her when I should be working.
I find myself talking to her when I should be taking her.
None of this was in the plan. The plan was to make her spread her legs, not for me to actually like her.
This is exactly what I should have known would happen; everything my wolf was pulling for, and I thought I could control.
The full bond is a weakness I can’t afford and don’t even want.
And yet, she’s drawing it out of me one simple evening at a time, each coffee shared, and every time I find myself thinking about her when I should be doing something else. But I won’t give in to it.
Winter is coming; I can feel it in the wind that comes off the water.
The island is being swallowed by the fog more with each passing night.
I need her willing, and I need it soon, and the fastest way to get her is to keep doing what I’m doing—but the knowledge that I’m losing myself bit by bit has me holding back right when I should be closing in.
Ryder came by this morning with the shipping manifests and a smug look on his face that I’ve been pretending not to see all week, because if I acknowledge it, I’ll have to wipe it off his face.
He stood in the kitchen as Tom arrived to collect Selene for her regular trip to the clinic and waved her off.
We watched as she disappeared down the street with Tom, laughing at something he said like they were old friends, and my wolf hated every single moment.
If I didn’t like Tom so much and knew he was still solely committed to his late mate, I’d probably have to tear him apart.
As soon as they turn the corner, I feel Ryder’s eyes on me, and the silent observation cuts deeper than any words.
“Spit it out,” I say.
“I’m not sure I’ve got anything to add,” he chuckles, putting the manifests on the kitchen island. “You’ve moved her in, seems to be going well…good for you.”
I shrug, knowing exactly what he’s trying to do: get under my skin. “It’s just security; it makes sense. She ran; now I can see her. The pack is already feeling the bond magic. Even without the full effect, it’s all working out.”
“Right, of course.” He grins. “That explains the chess set-up from last night over there, and this fancy coffee you’ve suddenly got in, not to mention Maeve says you’ve been buying pastries every morning. Security.”
He’s out the door, a trail of laughter following him. It’s almost nice to hear him laugh, because nothing has amused him in quite a while, but I don’t appreciate being the object of his amusement. Especially when I don’t have a strong enough rebuttal, and he damn well knows it.
Tonight, the chessboard is already set up when I get back in the evening. I wave Tom away from his post on my porch and walk in, my wolf soaking up her presence before I even see her.
“You’re late,” she says, not looking up from her book.
“I have a settlement to run,” I reply, glancing at the stove, where dinner is cooking. When did she start cooking for us like it was a normal situation?
“Sit,” she says, indicating the board. “Dinner will still be an hour, which is plenty of time to beat you again.”
I hesitate for a moment, knowing there’s a stack of reports waiting for me and a shipment to move before the weather turns, but I sit because she asked me to, and I can’t help but be drawn into her orbit.
This game between us has become the least sensible yet most necessary part of my day, and as I do so, I see something in her eyes that tells me she feels the same.
Maybe the game of chess is doing some of the talking for me.
We play in silence for a few minutes.
“You’re doing it again,” she says, sliding a bishop across the board.
“Doing what?” I say, not looking up.
“Letting me win so I’ll be in a good mood,” she glances up, and I finally catch her eye. “I’m onto you, you know. You’re better than this.”
Her bishop takes my queen, and I smirk. It’s true, I am better than this, but only when I’m not distracted by her intoxicating scent.
“Is it working?” I say instead.
She doesn’t answer as she swipes my queen from the board, but I note the tips of her ears turning pink. It’s a little tell, the way she flushes when she can’t talk her way out of something, and it’s worth a lot more to me than a game of chess.
Four moves later, and my king has nowhere left to go.
“Checkmate,” she says, sitting back, insufferably pleased with herself. “I think that’s three in a row. For a moment, I thought you were going to be a worthy opponent.”
“I’m distracted,” I tell her.
“By what?” she asks, not getting it yet.
I look at her and don’t answer. I just keep on looking until the smile fades from her face and something more hesitant takes its place.
“Don’t,” she says quietly.
“Don’t what?” I say, knowing that I’m baiting her.
“Don’t look at me like that. It isn’t fair,” she says, her voice dropping to barely a whisper.
“No,” I agree. “It isn’t.”
I think she’s going to get up, make a joke, or retreat to her room—all the things she usually does when a moment stretches out between us. She doesn’t. She stays exactly where she is with the firelight on her face, her pulse beating wildly, and my wolf straining toward the sound of it.
I know what her body is telling me, and she knows that I’ve clocked it. Sitting across from a wolf, she must realize there’s nowhere left to hide.
The chessboard lies abandoned between us, and I reach over and tip her king over with one finger and watch as she flinches as it clatters against the wood.
“You keep beating me,” I tell her, voice low, “because I spend the whole game watching your mouth instead of the board.”
The flush of color races across her cheeks as expected, but she doesn’t look away. “Well, that’s a terrible strategy.”
“Agreed. Worst one I’ve ever run,” I say, standing and walking around the table.
She stands, and I’m not sure if she’s going to run or meet me halfway; instead, she hesitates, and I see the conflict dancing in her eyes as I come to stop in front of her.
“Tell me to stop, Selene. Say it, and I won’t force anything. ”
I find that I mean it. As much as I want the magic, want her to bend to me, want to take everything she has, I won’t force a woman.
The magic doesn’t even work that way, though part of me wonders if that’s really true, given the number of alphas who raised hell over the years by securing a bond witch.
Maybe it’s just a rumor started to pretty up the reality of how the power was wielded.
I watch as she seems to run through the available scenarios, a war flashing behind her eyes, knowing she could run, and yet her feet don’t move.
Instead, she closes the distance and kisses me.
It’s clumsy and fierce, completely without practice, and yet it nearly undoes me where I stand. She kisses like she’s never done it before, all instinct and innocence, and the second I realize that I’m her first, my wolf comes up roaring, and something in my chest cracks open.
For a second, it’s like time suspends and the kiss deepens as we both sink into it. I notice her hand shake as she clings to my shirt, and the tremble against my chest nearly undoes me.
I take her face in both my hands to calm her. “Easy,” I murmur against her mouth. “We’ve got time for this. Let me.”
Kissing her deeply, I feel her soften against my hard body, and her fist remains tangled in my shirt, but the tremor fades.
When she gasps, I swallow her moan. When she presses closer, I lift her clean off her feet, and her legs wrap around my waist like they’ve done it a hundred times.
I carry her down the hall to my room, because this is clearly her first time, and I won’t take her against the kitchen island.
But I will take her.
I lay her down in my bed and follow her onto it, bracing over her, and for just a moment, I take in the sight of her—flushed, breathing hard, hair falling all around her, and her eyes guarded but dancing with desire.
“Last chance,” I tell her, and my voice isn’t steady. “Tell me to stop.”
She shakes her head. “I want to know what you feel like.”