Chapter 21 Kendra
KENDRA
THREE DAYS LATER
Iwake up warm, and it’s not from the blanket.
His arm is locked around my waist, his body curved against mine, and when I open my eyes his grip tightens, pulling me closer.
He’s still deep in sleep, his breathing slow and heavy, and he buries his face in my neck and inhales.
His whole body relaxes, sinking into me like I’m the only thing keeping him anchored.
I smile when I feel the hardness of him pressed against me.
Waking up tangled together for the third morning in a row, his furnace heat turning the bed into something I never want to leave.
We’ve spent the time getting to know each other.
He asks me questions about my work, about code, about how software is built.
He likes that I’m smart, that I understand technology he has no frame of reference for, and the way he listens when I explain it, leaning forward with his full attention, makes me feel seen in a way I haven’t felt since before I lost my job.
I try to sit up and he protests, pulling me closer, a low sound in his throat that is more Bouda than man. I turn in his arms and he starts to wake, his amber eyes finding mine, soft and unfocused for a moment before they sharpen.
“Good morning.”
He says nothing, just leans in and presses his lips to my forehead, holding them there.
“We need to get out of this cabin,” I tell him.
His palm smooths over my hip, slow, his palm warm through the thin fabric of my shirt. There isn’t a part of my body he doesn’t find worth touching, but he’s always careful with me. Always a gentleman, even when I can feel how much he wants to not be.
“Where will we go?” he asks.
“For starters, where the heck is Kade? And I need supplies. A phone, a laptop. I feel completely out of place without them.”
He yawns slightly, then sits up, the sheet falling to his waist. “I will take you wherever you need to go.”
I grin at him. “Not before my kiss.”
The way his mouth finds mine makes me giggle between his lips.
He rolls on top of me, careful with his weight, bracing himself on his forearms so I feel the warmth of him without the full press of his body.
He kisses me deeper and I can feel the hunger in him building, the restraint thinning out with every second.
I spread my legs and his hips drop between them and he loses control for just a moment, grinding against me.
The friction sends a jolt through my entire body and I moan into his mouth, arching into him.
Then he stops and pulls away from me. His breathing is ragged and his ridge is fully erect along his back and he looks at me like he just committed a crime.
I pout my lips at him and he’s right back, kissing me again, then pulling away again. “I am sorry, Kendra.”
“I’m not.”
He rolls off me and sits on the edge of the bed, adjusting himself in his pants with his back to me. I watch him, the ridge softening as he gets himself under control, the muscles in his shoulders loosening one at a time.
“Oh, why don’t you just stop being shy and stick it in me,” I mutter.
Then I snap my mouth shut. I groan and put a hand over my forehead, falling back onto the bed. The embarrassment hits like a wave and I want the mattress to open up and swallow me whole.
“You are embarrassed,” Kojo says, turning to look at me. “Why?”
He sits up and runs his hand over my belly, gentle, palm flat against the thin fabric. I’m in nothing but a long shirt and panties.
“I sound like Zaki,” I mutter. “I’m getting blunt and weird.”
He smiles at that. Then he lifts the hem of my shirt and presses his lips to my bare skin, soft and warm, and my breath catches.
“If you truly want me,” he says against my stomach, “I will obey.”
I groan and sit up, cupping his face in both hands. “That’s the problem, Kojo. I want you to take me because you want me. Not because you want to obey or be a dutiful mate.” I run my thumb along his cheekbone. “I told you. I don’t want a servant. I want a partner.”
“I do not know how to be a partner, Kendra.”
I sigh. “Doesn’t matter. We’re working on that.”
I give him a smirk, then kiss his lips, quick and firm. He groans when I slide off the bed and stand, and the sound of it makes me laugh as I walk to the window.
The sun is bright, the snow is melting, the sky is clear. Perfect weather to get out. The past few days have been so bad I couldn’t even walk to the road, let alone meet anyone else on the community lands.
I turn around and catch Kojo’s eyes right where I knew they’d be — on the curve of my ass through the shirt. He clears his throat and looks away, caught, and I shake my head at him.
“Weather looks good enough to travel.”
He nods but says nothing. I start pulling clothes from the drawer, realizing we definitely need a shopping trip.
I head to the bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face, then step into the shower and scrub down properly.
When I come out wrapped in a towel, Kojo has already left the bedroom.
Retreated, more like. He does this every time, giving me space to dress.
Is there such a thing as being too much of a gentleman? Part of me wants to storm after him in this towel and demand he handle his business. I groan at myself instead, lotion up, pull on underwear, a shirt, pants, and thick socks, then head downstairs.
Zaki is on the sofa, smirking. She heard everything. Of course she did. She can probably trace the scent of every single thing that just happened in that bedroom.
“Three days,” she says, “and no completion of the mate bond.”
“Good morning, Zaki.” I force a smile and keep walking toward the kitchen.
I huff when I see the table. It’s already set with fresh vegetables, fruit, toast, juice, and eggs. I stop at the eggs. I look at Zaki, who has followed me to the table.
“I can tolerate the eggs,” she says, pulling out a chair for me. “Everything else, no.”
I sit down and stare at the plate. Zaki made eggs. Bouda don’t eat cooked food. She made effort to cook for me.
I pick up the fork. “Thank you.” And I mean it.
“Kojo is cultural,” Zaki says, standing beside the table with her arms crossed. “It is embedded in his blood.”
“What are you getting at?” I chew on a piece of toast, waiting.
“You are trying to change him.”
“Well, you’re trying to change me.” Zaki goes quiet at that. There’s a silence between us for a moment, and then she looks at the eggs on my plate.
“Look at the eggs,” she says. “I am meeting you halfway.”
She has a point. She disappears from the table and comes back with my boots, setting them beside my chair.
“You wish to travel today,” she says. It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
“And when we do finally complete the mate bond,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her, “are you going to be hovering outside the door making sure the act is done?”
She gives me a smug smile. “I will leave you alone when I know my bloodline is secure. I do not have a mate, and the Bouda are a dying breed.”
“When will you know when you’ve found yours?”
Her face softens and her fingers trace the edge of the table, her ridge relaxing along her back for just a second.
“His scent will change me. Force me to relax.” She turns away and grabs the coat from the rack.
“Until that time comes, I am a servant of my people.” She holds the coat open for me. “And you are my people.”
I finish the fruit, drink the rest of my juice, then push back from the table and slide into my boots. Zaki helps me into the coat, buttoning it up before I can protest, and I let her because picking battles with Zaki is a full-time job.
“While we travel,” Zaki says, “I would like to find this Jackie seamstress.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned her a few times. Why do you need a seamstress?”
She scoffs, gesturing at her clothing. “I cannot fight in this. I look like I am ready for courtship, not ready for battle.”
Kojo comes down the stairs and I forget what I was about to say. He’s cleaned up, freshly washed, and wearing a long-sleeved shirt this time. The ridge has torn straight through the back of it, the blades poking through the ruined fabric.
Maybe I should take Kojo to see this seamstress too. He can’t keep destroying his clothes.
He frowns when I walk past him to the front door and open it, stepping out onto the porch. Zaki and Kojo fall into step behind me immediately.
“You want to walk?” Kojo asks as we come down the porch steps.
I take in the air, and shrug. “Well, I don’t have a car to get around in, and I want to get out of this cabin.”
Zaki looks around. “We have a wagon.”
“You aren’t pulling me on a wagon.” I look right at her when I say it.
She hisses at that, but I look to Kojo and run my hand over his arm. “I’m fine to walk, Kojo.”
He bows his head to me and stands down. Zaki opens her mouth to argue but both their ridges spike at the same time, the blades rising along their backs, and they step in front of me before I can blink.
“What the hell,” I mutter, trying to see around them. They aren’t letting me. I wedge between them and push until I can see through the gap.
Then I stiffen because I hear it, a cackle, low and distant, vibrating through the ground beneath my boots and up into my teeth. It sounds nothing like Zaki’s or Kojo’s.
“Another Bouda?” I whisper.
Kojo and Zaki’s ridges flatten. They step aside and I get a clear view.
It’s massive, bigger than Kojo, with jet black fur. A ridge runs its full length, the spikes rising then falling, and its paws melt the snow where they land. Its eyes are gold.
It walks slowly toward us, and then the shift begins. The black fur dissolves like smoke being pulled back into the body, the frame condensing and reshaping without a sound. The Bouda folds inward and a man unfolds from it.