Chapter 9
Tara
I’ve never felt anything like that. It was like flying. I was almost afraid of it, but I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t want to.
And now a familiar peace and warmth floods my system, but I’m left with the funniest feeling that something’s missing. Of course, I know what my wolf wants. I know this isn’t enough, that it’s like covering a gaping wound with Scotch tape.
And I know he’s feeling it. I can feel it myself, his need. I can see it, too. He’s rigid, swaying back and forth as he gets to his feet. His breathing is ragged, full of frustration at not getting what he wants more than anything.
I’m not quite sure what I’m doing as I get on my knees in front of him. It feels right, though. Giving him what he gave me, even if I don’t know where to start. I only know I need to take the edge off for him, like he did for me.
When I finally find the courage to look up at him, his eyes are narrowed, his clenched teeth bared. “Put it in your mouth,” he growls, sending a shiver up my spine. “You can start slow.”
I know how big he is—I’ve had him inside me.
But putting him in my mouth is another story.
It takes a second for me to adjust and get over the urge to gag as I lower my head, taking more and more of him until he hits the back of my throat.
There’s a salty tang to him that I like. Maybe I’m supposed to like it.
“Just like that,” he urges, cupping the back of my head. “So fucking good.”
There is something exciting about this. I feel myself getting wetter every time he moans.
I’m doing a good job, making him feel the way he made me feel.
There’s something kind of powerful about that.
Holding his pleasure, being in control of it as my head bobs up and down in a rhythm that gets smoother as I get the hang of what I’m doing.
“Use your tongue,” he urges, and when I open my eyes, I find him looking down at me. Watching me pleasure him. An electric current passes between us and makes me want to do better. I want him to come like he made me come.
So I follow his cues, doing more of what he likes. Running my tongue along his underside, sucking harder when he begs for it. “Yeah, that’s good,” he whispers, moving his hips a little, so his head hits my throat again and again. “You are so good to my cock. So good.”
Soon all I can do is hang on while he takes over, pushing into my mouth, holding my head still while he fucks my face. But there’s nothing brutal about it, nothing I can’t handle. I know it’s what his bear needs, and I want to give it to him. I want him to have everything.
“Fuck, Tara.” He’s losing his breath along with his rhythm, tensing up, holding my head tighter. “Let me come down your throat. Stay right there.”
I barely know what’s happening before he fills my mouth with his salty come. It’s not easy, but I manage to swallow as more and more of it shoots from his tip. By the time he lets out a deep groan and releases my head, I feel sort of proud of myself for keeping up with him.
It’s still not enough. There’s a sense of something missing as I get to my feet, wondering what happens now.
I want to ask. The question hangs on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too afraid to voice it.
Instead, he soaps up quickly and rinses off without looking at me again, then gets out of the shower and leaves me feeling emptier than ever.
“I’ll fix something for breakfast.” All the passion that had us in its grip only a minute ago is gone, replaced by the same kind of awkwardness we’ve existed in since I got here.
He’s barely able to meet me eye-to-eye even in the mirror over the sink—no, he’s in too much of a hurry to get out of here.
To get away from me. I wish it was that simple. I’d be more than happy to disappear.
You don’t really mean that, do you? Is that my wolf talking? Or is it the ever-present voice in my head reminding me I’m an awful person? Chiding me like a disappointed parent, refusing to let me lie to myself?
No, I don’t really mean that. I don’t want to disappear. Deep down inside—and not even all that deep—I want to be with him. I need to. There’s no choice. I am meant for him. He is meant for me.
But dammit, if he is not going to accept that, why should I? Why should I want to stick around when my destruction is the only possible outcome?
He’s already in the kitchen, scrambling eggs by the time I force myself to leave the bathroom and face him.
His back is to me, so I can scoot into the bedroom without having to bear his attention.
I wonder if the eggs will be overdone again today, and doubt they’ll be anything but.
Especially when he now has to figure out how he’ll face Declan tomorrow night.
I just really hope my brother is smart and levelheaded enough to figure this out without getting violent. It’s not that I don’t think the pack could handle it—I know they could. But no amount of injuries or death are worth it. I’m not worth it.
Besides, as much as I resent Kyran from the top of my head to my toenails, I don’t want him to suffer, either.
I don’t want him to lose what he still has when he’s already lost everything else.
There will always be part of my soul tied to him.
Always a corner of my mind, wondering about him.
Thinking, imagining, remembering. Even worrying.
If I live through this, does that mean spending the rest of my days wishing I knew how he’s doing? Hoping he’s alive and well?
What would I feel if he wasn’t?
“Breakfast is ready.” Plates hit the table in the kitchen, and the sound makes me cringe.
So that’s how it’s going to be. I guess he’s done trying to make me feel comfortable or at ease.
My shoulders roll back once I’ve put on another T-shirt and sweats, which he left out for me, and I lift my chin before marching out to the kitchen.
This time, the heat under the pan was too high. There isn’t much that grosses me out more than eggs that have gone brown because they were overcooked. I guess if I want to eat, I’d better get over it. One of the many things I’m going to have to get over if I make it out of this alive.
At least the eggs are hot. The air in the room is anything but. It’s amazing I don’t see my breath in front of my face. I can’t understand him when that’s all I want to be able to do. He practically mauls me in the shower, then treats me like I’m the guest who’s stayed too long.
The irony being I would leave if he’d let me.
I’m maybe three bites into my less than exciting breakfast when a sudden banging on the front door makes eggs lodge in my throat.
Kyran is more concerned with his visitor than with me, sitting here, coughing my head off.
“Stay here,” he mutters, eyes narrowing as he stands.
All I know is, I wouldn’t want to be whoever is on the other side of that door, not when he walks with his fists clenched like he’s ready to fight. For me?
What if it’s ten against one? What if they decide to hurt him to get him out of the way?
I’m shaking hard enough to make my teeth chatter by the time he reaches the front door and peers out through the glass insert near the top. “It’s all right,” he murmurs, glancing my way. “But stay where you are.”
Right now, I don’t think I could get up and walk if I tried. The room is swaying a little, and the effect gets worse when I move my head. I really thought that was it. I thought death had come for me.
When he starts to open the door, I can’t hold back a tiny whimper that makes him groan like he’s out of patience. “I can handle this.”
All I can do is sit and wait. Well, there are no shouts out there. Nobody comes barging through the door. There’s nobody looking through the windows in the back of the cottage, either. I guess I’m still safe, or as safe as I can be around here.
So of course, now I’m curious. They’re probably talking about me, right? Deciding my fate?
“I don’t care if she hears me.”
It’s the sound of a girl’s voice that makes me sit up a little straighter. A girl, huh? A girl who sounds pretty pissed.
Kyran’s voice gets a little louder, though he’s still not as loud as she is. “Could you not? Things are complicated enough as it is.”
Oh. My. God.
Why did it never occur to me before this? He’s clearly older than me, even if I haven’t asked him his age. He’s the clan’s alpha and could score any girl he wants. I never imagined him being involved with anybody, though. I’ve been so busy thinking about myself and what he means to me.
My ears go hot all of a sudden. Maybe it’s the way blood pounds in them. He has a girlfriend. He never bothered mentioning her, but she’s out there, and she’s pissed off.
No way I’m staying in this chair while she’s fighting with him about me. “They don’t have to be complicated, Kyran. You know what you need to do. We all know. Why don’t you just get it over with?”
Needless to say, I’m not a fan of hers. My molars grind as I cross the living room, careful to creep as close to the window as I can without being close enough for the sun to shine a spotlight on me. I need to get a look at her. What is his type? Who will he go back to once he gets rid of me?
The first thing I notice is her shining golden hair.
It’s obvious she spent time on it before she came over here, making sure it’s perfectly waved, and every strand is in place.
I wonder if she did that before or after applying a full face of makeup.
Her contouring game is on point, but that’s about the only good thing I can say about her.
Otherwise, everything about her screams rage—she’s barely controlling it.
Her arms are folded under her boobs, practically hanging out of a low-cut T-shirt that fits her like a second skin.
The same goes for her jeans, which look like somebody painted them on her.
We are really throwing everything we have at this problem, aren’t we?
That’s all fine and good.
But when she reaches out and strokes his arm? Oh, hell no. Now we’ve crossed a line.
If it wasn’t for the way he pulls back, out of her reach, my wolf might have no choice but to lose it a little. More than a little. Mate. Mine. It echoes in my head again and again while my hackles rise and my blood heats. She’s going to come here and try to convince him to have me killed?
“I need you to leave this up to me. Can you do that?” He’s closed off, short, obviously annoyed—and she sees it.
When her face falls, it brings a satisfied smile to mine.
He turns partly away from her, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.
She actually has the nerve to reach up and touch his shoulder, which he shrugs to shake her free. Girl, give it up. He doesn’t want you.
When her chin trembles, I almost feel sorry for her. The split-second passes, though, when she looks up at the window I’m watching from.
She can’t see me, right? There’s no way she knows I’m standing here. The way she’s glaring at the glass, though? It’s chilling. She wants me dead. It’s written all over her face, burning in her blue eyes. I’ve never seen such complete hatred directed at me.
He waits until she’s walked down the dirt road leading from the cottage before his head tips back and he stares at the sky.
Another pain in the ass. He might as well be holding up a sign broadcasting every thought.
Finally, he turns toward the porch, and I scramble backward, fleeing for the kitchen table.
I’ve barely made it back to my seat when he opens the door.
The corners of his mouth twitch when he spots me where he left me. “Right. I’m sure you did as you were told this time around. Are you turning over a new leaf?”
He wants to be a smart-ass? I was going to be nice and approach with caution, but forget it now. “Who was she? You should’ve told me you have a girlfriend.”
“I would, if I did. But since I don’t…” He scrubs his hands over his face, groaning. “It’s nothing. I took care of it.”
“Her.”
“Excuse me?” His hands drop from his face and land on his hips when he comes to a stop in the center of the living room.
“Her. You took care of her. Not it.”
“I don’t have the patience for this.” Since the rest of our food is cold now, he comes over and picks up his plate to take it to the sink.
“What’s her name?” I ask as I swivel in my chair to watch him.
“Do we have to do this?” When I answer by not answering, he shakes his head, his back to me. “Regina.”
“Ex?”
“She is not my ex. We’ve never seriously been together.”
That is the most carefully chosen statement I’ve ever heard. “So you’re saying it’s always been casual?”
“We were fuck buddies. Okay? Satisfied?”
Not really. I’m still not a huge fan of him being with anybody but me. I can’t help that. At least I know it wasn’t serious.
There are bigger problems, though, and he doesn’t seem to see them. “You were pretty cold toward her.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, little wolf.”
“I know you didn’t.” Holding my hands up, I pretend like I’m washing them. “Not my problem. But I wonder if she’s going to be a problem for you. Did you ever think maybe what you guys had meant more to her? It sure seems like it did.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He leans around me to grab my plate so he can rinse it, then leave it in the dishwasher. “Let it go. I have enough on my mind.”
Like I need to be told.
My heart sinks when I realize I have another day of sitting in a boring bedroom ahead of me.
What I wouldn’t give for my phone, my iPad, or my laptop.
I probably have a hundred notifications waiting for me, at least. I didn’t know how lucky I was to have pretty much any form of entertainment I could possibly want at my fingertips until it was all taken away.
He must catch me eyeing the bedroom warily. “You don’t have to stay in there today if you don’t want to. We could watch something on TV.” I wonder if he needs the distraction as much as I do.
I can’t help but pounce on the idea. “Sure. That would be great.” I don’t care what we watch, so long as it means doing something other than sitting and obsessing.
Although once we settle in on the sofa, and he starts flipping through choices, I find myself looking at the window and remembering that heated glare. I have to wonder if she’s going to let things go just because he wants her to.