Chapter 23 - Lola #2
He nodded gravely, “Even more precious than the ones at the library. Dating back hundreds of years. It’s sad really, all that knowledge lost…” he trailed off, a sparkle in his eye.
“You…you beast,” she cried, slapping his arm, “you’re making that up!”
“I’m not,” he practically sang, “apparently there were scrolls there written by the first Viking shifters to sail over to the Americas.”
“Vikings didn’t write scrolls, you moronic—”
“Scrolls and diaries and even little shopping lists. Fascinating stuff. They were always on about combing their fur.”
“Dane,” she wailed, tugging his shirt, “please tell me there weren’t actually any archives in the club?”
“Of course there weren’t,” he said with a chuckle, catching her hands as she went to hit his arm again, “all that stuff’s locked away under Ethel’s terrifying guard. You’ll have access now that you’re pack.”
“You’re awful,” she said, despite the slight warmth that bloomed in her chest at his statement.
Pack. She was pack now. She was aware of the massive grin spreading across her face.
He pretended to shudder, “Oh God, don’t tell me that looks because of the archives. I’m never gonna see you again if you go into that library. I’ll have to pull you out from under a mountain of books. I’m gonna have to share you with moths.”
“I think you mean woodworm,” she said with a laugh, “or bookworm, perhaps?”
“You’re the bookworm,” he said fondly, his hands settling around her waist.
“Afraid so,” she replied with a rueful grin, “and yet, here you are.”
“Here I am,” he agreed, resting his chin atop her head. She sighed, leaning into his warmth, her heart skipping a funny beat.
“You…you said something during the battle,” Lola said after a moment, peeking up at him through her lashes.
He offered her a lazy grin. “Aye, I said I lot of things. Mostly cussing.”
“No…not that,” she said, swatting his chest, “something about…about me.”
He hummed, his hands warm and heavy on her hips, “And what did I say about you?”
Her cheeks heated, and she bit her lip, resisting the urge to swat him again. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“Actually,” he said, picking her up in one swift motion, ignoring her shrieking and flailing as he carried her through into his bedroom, “I’m not sure I do.”
“Put me down! Dane, Dane put me down now, or so help me I’ll—oof!”
Dane had thrown her rather unceremoniously onto the bed, a wicked grin curving over his lips. She pushed up onto her elbows, glaring at him with all the imperiousness she could muster, “That is not what I meant, and you know it!”
“I’m not sorry,” he purred, stalking forwards and climbing onto the bed, leaning back on his calves as he undid the laces of her heeled boots. She hitched in a breath as he pulled them off, his fingers lingering at the delicate skin of her ankles, rough and tan against her pale flesh.
Then, without warning, he grasped her legs and pulled her towards him, landing above her with his hands braced on either side of her head, thick muscles caging her in.
Warmth blossomed down her spine, and she fought to keep her expression angry.
He chuckled, low and dangerous, reaching over to smooth the crease between her eyebrows with the pad of his thumb. “Still not sorry.”
“You should be,” she sniffed, “throwing me about like I’m a sack of grain. It’s undignif—mmph!”
He caught her lips with his, swallowing her protests as he kissed her soundly enough to make her toes curl and her mind go blank and fuzzy. She sighed, relaxing into him as he pressed her down into the mattress, her fingers tangling in his dark hair.
She could feel his grin, triumphant and smug, but couldn’t find it in herself to care, too lost in the all-consuming heat of his lips.
He began to pull away, and she made a small sound of protest, glaring up at him as he grinned with pure masculine pride down at her. “Still mad?”
“I will be if you don’t carry on,” she said, leaning up to nip at his jaw, a thrill rushing straight to her core and the deep growl of desire from him.
“Dangerous game to play, sweetheart,” he said, his pupils blown so wide they looked back, “aren’t you scared of the big bad wolf?”
“No,” she said, surprising herself with how soft her voice was as she reached up to caress his jaw, “not even a little bit.”
He swallowed, and a moment passed between them, charged with something warm and loving and real.
“What is it I said?” he whispered, his voice rough, “on the battlefield?”
She searched his face, a familiar pit of anxiety welling in her stomach, but she pushed it away.
She would not be scared of her feelings. Or his. Not now.
“When you were facing Red Teeth,” she said slowly, “I’m not sure if I heard you right…I…everything was kind of swimming and fuzzy and strange. Like I was underwater or something.”
A growl ripped from his chest, not one of desire this time, but pure animalistic fury. She hushed him gently, stroking his face, pressing her body into his. The rumbling continued, vibrating against her, but he calmed.
“Anyway…you were facing him. Yelling at him. And you asked where I was. You were angry that he’d hurt me—”
“Aye, I was fucking angry—”
“Let me finish,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. His lips tightened, but he nodded at her to continue.
“You said…at least, I think you said…”
“I said he hurt my mate,” Dane snarled, and a small blooming warmth spread in Lola’s chest.
“That’s it,” she practically squeaked, “you…you called me your mate.”
“That’s because you are my mate,” he said, his forehead dropping to hers, “and I was a fucking idiot for not accepting it sooner. But you better believe I know it now. You’re mine, Lola Devereaux. You, Sam, that baby in your belly. You’re all mine.”
Her breath hitched at the ferocity of his words, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “You…you mean it?”
His eyes blazed with heat. “Every word of it.”
He shifted his hips, pressing down into her, and she gasped as she felt his hardness against her stomach.
“And now,” he said, eyes glittering, “I’m going to prove it to you.”
He captured her lips again, full of heat and passion, capturing her hands and pinning them above her head. She sighed into his open mouth, relaxing into him, her ridiculously noisy brain going deliciously quiet under the intensity of her mate.
They hadn’t slept together, not since the first time.
He had been scared to touch her after the fight, terrified that she might have some injury she was hiding from him.
She couldn’t blame him, not really. Not when she had shied away from her shifter heritage for so long.
She had almost forgotten herself, the incredible rate at which her body could heal.
But she was looking forward to remembering. Remembering all of it. She didn’t need to be a shifter to be part of the pack, but she felt that she owed it to Dane, to Daisy, to Cassie, to everyone to finally just be herself.
And, she was looking forward to finally getting to be with Dane, to touch him, to be touched, secure in the knowledge that she was his and he was hers.
The thought made her blood heat, her heartbeat quicken. She growled, fingers fumbling at the buttons of his shirt.
He didn’t let her get that far. He ripped the fabric from his body, buttons flying everywhere, before covering her again and plundering her mouth.
With a groan, her legs fell open, wrapping around his hips, pulling her towards her, uncaring about the layers of fabric still between them.
Dane apparently did care.
He pushed off her with a snarl, pulling her up onto her knees as he divested her of her clothes with animalistic urgency. With one hand fisted in her hair, he pulled her head back, giving him access to attack her throat with kisses and bites as two fingers pushed up into her warm, wet center.
‘Oh,’ she gasped, hands scrabbling at his massive shoulders as he curled his fingers against that delicious spot deep within her, his thumb circling her clit with delicious pressure.
It seemed he was in no mood to be coy or teasing.
He attacked her boy with all the fervor of a wolf, driving her to the edge with relentless focus, teeth scraping against her skin as she wailed his name.
She liked it rough, coming hard with profanities spilling from her lips as she bucked against his fingers. But he wasn’t done.
He flipped her over onto all fours, his breath ghosting over her skin, hot and full of deadly promise. When his tongue made contact with her soaking flesh, she nearly wept, collapsing forward onto the bed.
She was a mere instrument. A being of pure pleasure made only to fall apart under Dane’s ministrations. She was at his mercy, completely his, unable to formulate a single thought except recognition of the burning fire of his touch.
He lapped at her core like a male possessed, grunting in pure, alpha satisfaction as her muscles trembled and gave way, his thick tongue pumping in and out of her. She panted, twisting the sheets, her legs already tensing and shaking in anticipation of another delicious orgasm.
“Fuck, you taste good, sweetheart,” he growled, hands gripping her hips to steady her as he continued his assault.
She couldn’t even form the words to reply. She was putty in his hands, utterly incoherent, desperate for every ounce of pleasure he could give her.
Warmth curled low in her gut. This was her life now. He was her mate. She could fall asleep each night curled in his arms, wake up to his kisses and caresses, spend every single day knowing that he was there beside her.
That she was wanted.
She came again with a groan, her skin damp with sweat. Dane let out a savage growl as he licked up her spine, his thick arms bracing either side of her. She felt tiny beneath him, helpless and vulnerable, and yet oh so needy.
It was a delicious paradox. A loss of control, or rather relinquishment of it, that might well drive her mad.
From all their interactions so far, she knew he approached sex more as a wolf than a man. She looked forward to learning that lesson over and over and over again.
He pushed into her with a snarl, the corded muscles of his arms bunching, tattoos rippling.
She whined, long and high and needy as he so entirely became her whole world.
He was everywhere. Above her, surrounding her, inside her, every inch of her body, both internal and out pressed in by the overwhelming force of him.
She had never felt anything like it. Anything so exhilarating and yet so overwhelmingly comforting. There was nothing she needed to do. Nothing she needed to say. She just needed to exist, just needed to hand herself over to him, and he would take care of everything.
He began to move, and she let out a keening yelp at his immense size.
Instantly, his teeth were at the junction of her neck and shoulder, anchoring her down as he continued to pump hard inside of her.
The pleasure-pain mixed until Lola couldn’t even remember her own name, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, muscles relaxing under his dominant bite.
She couldn’t even tell if she was orgasming again, or if the sheer intensity of his movement allowed nothing but the sweet bliss of oblivion to register in her mind. His movements were faster now, more desperate, chasing his own release.
She clenched her walls around him, urging him on, letting her own wolf take over as she begged and pleaded to him. His answering snarl was pure predator, his movements strong enough to bruise, except she was no delicate thing. She was his equal. His mate. His wolf.
He came with a roar, hips slamming into hers, guttural pants falling from him as he released his seed, hot and thick, inside her.
For a moment, they basked in the afterglow, their bodies moving together as they caught their breath, and then he pulled her into his chest and turned them onto their sides so that he was spooning her, cradling her close to him.
He was still inside her, buried deep, and she didn’t want him to ever move.
“Are you alright?” he said after a while, his voice gruff.
She nodded, unable to stop the smile spreading over her face as his arms wrapped tight around her, holding her steady, protective, and warm.
“Yes, yes, I’m alright. That was… was…”
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, nuzzling into her neck.
“Trust me,” she said with a grin, “you didn’t do anything that I didn’t enjoy. Immensely.”
He chuckled, the sound reverberating against her skin, and she nestled further into his heat.
“Lucky for you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, “I’m a shifter. I plan on doing at least sixteen more things you immensely enjoy before the sun is up.”
Her breath hitched, “I can’t remember the last time I stayed up all night for anything other than studying or looking after Sammy.”
“Well then,” he said, moving his rapidly hardening length inside her, causing her to squeal in shock, “good thing we ain’t got anywhere to be tomorrow.”