Chapter 17 - Yvonne
My eyes go wide when I’m pressed against Dawson’s firm body, his blue eyes searing into my soul with the intensity of his ferocious glare.
He almost appears rabid, his tanned skin flushed as if he ran a mile, panting to let his scorching hot breath fan my face as he keeps his head bent.
His anger right now is highly misplaced. How do I explain that Alpha Thane was simply commenting on how brilliant my son is, how brilliant our son is—that’s why I was smiling.
I know that’s what got him to act like this. That’s why he commented on Alpha Thane flirting with me. Dawson is crazy if he thinks I’d ever stoop so low as to entertain the attention of another male.
What does he think of me?
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he sneers, his lips curled in one corner to give him the appearance of a lunatic. His eyes are dark—almost as dark as they are when lust calls his name—and his mere presence is captivating.
I’ve never been more afraid of him than I am right now.
Or turned on.
I can’t seem to shake off what his close proximity does to me.
“I’m dancing,” he snickers as he whisks me across the floor that had been cleared of its snow-blanket to reveal the paving underneath. Just for a brief moment in Girdwood, the winter snow is swept away so we can praise the Moon Goddess.
“We’re dancing,” Dawson corrects, his lips peeling over the top row of his teeth to reveal a vulgar smile, as if he’s drunk and stupefied right now.
What’s gotten into him?
As he spins me around the bonfire, he grabs my hand and twirls me away from him, then with the harshest tug, he pulls me back and returns his hand to the small of my back.
There’s something about the action that’s so possessive, belying the way he’d been ignoring me all night.
“I can’t tell what we’re doing,” I grunt as we sway to the low beat of the drums, as the drummers enter the pre-chorus of their song. I glare at Dawson’s face, suddenly irritated all over again that I’d been dragged to the one place I was forced to face him.
“Especially since you’ve been ignoring me all night,” I scoff. “What am I supposed to make out of this?”
Dawson cocks his head to one side. “A walk down memory lane. Don’t you remember? This is much like the night our son was conceived, isn’t it?”
Dawson’s remark is a brutal punch to my gut, but I’m fired up by the heat of the bonfire and this growing heat emanating between us, and perhaps I’m more ambitious than I expected to be tonight.
Instead of the walls I’d built to keep out the pain, they hold my heart together and keep it from breaking now.
“Well, we should just wait for the morning, then,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “Perhaps we can take a walk down that lane, and you’ll go back to rejecting my existence.”
Dawson suddenly stops dancing, gulping when the realization seems to knock into him and renders him speechless. His jaw drops slightly enough to make an impact that has me wanting to reel back what I just said.
When Alpha Elias and Luna Aurora waltz by, Dawson springs into action again, picking up where he left off as he guides me into the dance with determination that has his jaw clenching.
“If that’s the only reason you left,” he grunts, “you should have waited another day.”
“And faced your rejection all over again?” I scoff, trying my best to remain calm while my insides are threatening to burst at the seams.
I can feel it coming—those familiar claws of my heat—but I ignore it when Dawson’s nostrils flare and he glares at me.
“You had enough time to come clean after I brought you back here. But you chose not to.”
“You didn’t leave me much choice,” I remind him. “If anything, you proved me right these past few days. Tonight was a prime example of that.”
Dawson stops dancing again, as if he’s suddenly gripped by regret for his behavior.
Torn between wanting to lash out at him and wanting to understand why he did what he did in the past, I quickly snatch my hands away while he’s taken aback and not gripping too tightly.
I spin on my heel and bolt for the darkest corner I can find—some place where the bonfire’s flickering orange flames aren’t shedding light on this flurry of emotions of mine.
Panting once I round the corner behind the pack den’s wooden structure, I press my back and palms against the varnished log, scratching at the smooth surface with my forefinger to find something to ease this irritable feeling.
Sweat beads my forehead—I feel it catching on my brows—but my fingers are too tingly to lift my hands to my face to wipe it away. I try gulping, but my throat is dry, my saliva coarse and brittle as it slides down my windpipes.
What’s happening to me?
As if to answer my question, I’m knocked in the gut by the familiar punch of my heat’s intensity just as Dawson emerges from the corner.
“Yvonne, can we talk?” he asks, his voice lowered as if he’s finally calmed down and levelheaded again.
“No, we can’t…” I struggle through my words, but keep a straight face when I feel my walls coming up again.
How am I able to lash out at him, yet unable to speak amicably when he’s here, offering to talk?
It’s because you don’t want to get hurt again….
It’s like an inner voice of reason speaks to me—the one trying to protect my heart from being hurt again, knowing full well that it’s exactly where I’m headed if I agree to speak to him calmly.
But then there’s another voice, one that controls the parts of my body that react to his presence, throwing caution and logic to the wind as I reach out and place a hand on his arm.
The immediate effects are spectacular, sending frissons of electric sparks through my veins, lighting me up with the onset of my heat that’s going to immobilize me. Before it reaches those frightening heights like those I experienced the other day, I know I need to act now.
Clinging to the physical magnetization between us, I bat my eyelids and stare at Dawson seductively.
Though the heated argument we had out there by the bonfire wasn’t unreasonable, being so drawn to him now when logic says I should run away from him is what’s truly unreasonable. Unexplainable. Unwarranted.
Dawson’s expression is stunned as he stares at the point of physical contact, feeling how heightened the awareness and attraction is between us. I decide to run with it.
This is the only way I’m going to avoid speaking about my feelings. If I hang onto the physical attraction, my heat will be cured, my inner wolf will be sated, and I won’t have to worry about getting my heart broken again.
Dawson sees the anguish on my face when he lifts his eyes, and they lose the dark glint of anger, taking on a softer, more concerned sparkle.
He doesn’t say a word as the hand on his arm slides to the top, where I place a flattened palm on his chest, feeling the way his muscles flex beneath my touch.
“Dawson…” I breathe in a sultry tone. “It’s happening again…”
As I take a step forward, I notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs with a gulp as he straightens and turns his attention to my simple act of seducing him into taking my pain away. That pain grips my lower belly, but I push through as I continue tracing my palm down his chest.
“What do you need, Yvonne?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave lower to sound gravelly as he stands unmoving.
“You know what I need,” I husk as I step even closer, my lips parted to breathe hot air on the exposed part of his chest where his button is undone.
Dawson shivers as the fine hairs prickle with attention, and he takes a deep breath before closing the little distance between us and grabbing my wrist to stop me from going down to the prominent bulge in the front of his tailored pants.
He pushes me against the building and pins my arm above my head.
“Remember, you asked for this…” he rasps as he grabs my other wrist, and then has both my arms pinned above my head.
My breath comes in staggered pants as I part my lips, my heart pounding with anticipation.
Even if I don’t want to get my heart broken by this man, I want my body broken by him to get rid of the frenzied heat that erupts every time I’m near him.
It’s inevitable.