Chapter 8 #2
He nodded again. Another quick dip of his chin.
“But you don’t know me. I don’t know you. You just abducted me a few hours ago. Why are we like this?”
This time he didn’t answer at all. Not by a twitch of his eyebrow or a jerk of his hips. Which left her with nothing but a pulse between her thighs that shocked her.
“I’ve never felt lust like this before.” She swallowed. “It has to be biochemical.”
His eyes narrowed as he thought. He was clearly processing her words, sorting through the facts. She recognized the expression from her own mirror whenever she was faced with a difficult puzzle. And then he suddenly moved.
She tensed, wanting him to come to her. Wanting from the core of her womb for him to do what she was picturing.
Up against the wall, clothing ripped from her body, his hands on her breasts as she raised a knee to skate it over his hips.
And then the penetration, deep and thick. God, she wanted it. She wanted him.
But he didn’t come to her. He passed within touching distance, but he didn’t touch her.
He crossed to his clothes and pulled on his jeans.
Commando. She wondered if shifters disliked clothes like tighty-whities.
Maybe they were just another layer to get in the way when changing into an animal.
And seriously, who wanted to look at a big scary black bear wearing tighty-whities?
Her mind disintegrated into silly images. It was the only thing she could do to deal with the cutting, horrible knowledge that he wasn’t going to touch her. She wouldn’t be able to kiss him or feel him between her legs. And honestly, she didn’t want him to, right? Right?
But she did. And she hated herself for the irrationality of her own desperate hunger.
So, she turned away. She had bodies to examine, right? Things to figure out. A whole world of science to explore and a dangerous flu to end.
And then suddenly she felt him. His heat along her backside.
His breath right beside her neck. Her hair prickled to attention, and her skin tingled from his nearness.
She didn’t know if she was imagining this, but damn it, it felt so real.
She didn’t want to turn and find out it was all in her head.
Then he spoke, his words soft and so gentle, it brought tears to her eyes.
“You’re exhausted. When was the last time you ate?”
Why did she want to cry? What was happening to her that she was this emotional because he was indeed standing right behind her. Because he was gentle as he asked her a caring question? Because he’d noticed she was drooping with fatigue.
Get a grip!
But she couldn’t. Her mind and her emotions were shattered beyond retrieving. And suddenly, it was too much. She gasped, humiliated because she was crying. Crying! Why? Because he hadn’t kissed her? She didn’t even know him!
“You’ve been hit with a lot today. You discovered shifters, and that’s never easy. And then the attacks. It’s almost four in the morning, and I’ll wager you haven’t slept much since coming to Detroit.”
She hadn’t.
“Let me take you to bed.”
Her body tightened at his words. Her breath caught on a sob and she wanted to beat herself for it.
Sobbing? WTF? Because she knew he hadn’t meant the words the way he said them?
Because he meant taking her to bed to sleep.
Could she be more humiliated? She’d told him she wanted him.
And all he’d done was not touch her and be kind.
Kind!
When she wanted him to rip of her clothes off, to force her to submit to him, to penetrate her like they were both animals in the jungle. Raw, passionate, unfettered by rationality.
She pressed a fist to her mouth as the desire pumped through her veins, roared through her head, and squeezed her insides like a vise.
It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t exactly unpleasant either.
It was raw and intense. The kind of passion that ripped her mind away until she felt like an exposed nerve.
“Cecilia?” His voice was thick with worry, then suddenly with the sharp bite of fear. “Dr. Lu!”
She didn’t know what was happening. The world was moving in a way it wasn’t supposed to. Then he touched her. She wanted to cry out, Not like that! He was supporting her. Her knees had gone out, and he was picking her up like he would a child when she wanted something entirely different.
She wanted passion to match her lust.
He gave her gentleness as he lifted her into his arms.
She smelled his masculine scent. She felt the strength in his arms as he threw her slightly up in the air so he could readjust his grip. She felt the hard ripple of his abdomen as he braced her against him. And she felt the power in his legs as he turned and began walking up the stairs.
No strain that she could tell. Simply a tight grip as he held her against his chest.
He was as strong as a bear, she realized. And whereas the thought was meant to make her smile, instead it made her whimper.
Mate with me.
She didn’t want to think those words. It wasn’t real. It was biochemistry gone amok. And yet they were there, a silent desperate plea.
And he was ignoring her as he gently set her down in a bedroom one door down from Mother. There were two twin beds here, and he set her on the nearest one. The sheets were scratchy, thin, and smelled of fresh dryer sheets.
“I’ll bring you some soup.”
“I can get it,” she said. God, she didn’t want him waiting on her.
“I’ll get it,” he said, and she heard the ring of command in his voice.
He wasn’t going to bed her, but he was going to take care of her. Did that make the situation better or worse?
“I am not this weak.”
“This isn’t weak. This is post-adrenaline drop.”
Maybe. Probably not, but it was a good enough excuse to allow her to save face. Then his expression shifted as if he were remembering something, and he patted his back pocket before pulling out a crumpled protein bar.
“It’s crushed but still good. Start with this.”
She reached for it, but he was already opening the packaging. Then he deftly broke a piece off and pressed it to her lips.
He was feeding her?
She opened her mouth to say that wasn’t necessary, but he slipped the food inside before she could get the words out. And then she didn’t speak because the chocolate and peanut butter paste tasted really good. As in really, really good.
He pressed another morsel to her lips the moment she swallowed the first. And again and again until it was gone.
“Thank you,” she said. She really had needed to eat.
“Any medications, conditions, or allergies that I need to know about?”
She snorted. “I’m allergic to cats.”
“Mother doesn’t have one anymore. The wolves kept trying to eat it.”
Her snort turned into a choke. She was lying on her back looking right up into his face.
The hard, jagged scar on his jaw was right there and she stroked it with her fingers.
She felt his body go rigid with shock, but he didn’t move away.
His nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated, but he didn’t draw away.
“Why doesn’t this disappear when you shift back to human? Sammy’s skin looked pristine.”
It seemed like his entire body was held rigid with control, but when he spoke, his words were calm. Excruciatingly even.
“I got the scar when I was ten. Long before my first shift. It became part of my identity, and so it remains, always part of me.”
“How did you get it?”
“I saved my brother’s life.”
“Then it’s a badge of honor.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s what I told him. He said I’d gotten it when I tripped on my Legos.”
She rolled her eyes. “Brothers are assholes.”