Chapter 7 #3
Grabbing her bag, she walked on her knees, stopping right in front of me.
My legs were wide, and if she came just a tiny bit closer, she’d be between them.
All the reasons she could be on her knees between my legs filled my head, and my cock pumped full of blood so fast I got lightheaded.
My brothers hadn’t been wrong about the constant hard-ons.
The desire to fuck, to rut, was always there, and as soon as I dropped my guard, or my control, there was no keeping my dick in line.
Tempest rummaged around in her bag and produced a small bottle. “I brought some of the oil I made with me.”
“You got the kitchen sink in there as well?”
She chuckled. “Not quite. It is enchanted, though, so yes, I can fit a great many things in it without it getting heavy. It’s extremely handy.”
Witches seemed to have all kinds of cool shit. Usually they were passed down through families. “Did your mom give you that?”
Her gaze dipped. “No, someone else.”
“Family? Friend?” I could see this was something she didn’t really want to talk about, but I was so curious about this female, and she was such a closed book.
She started rolling up my jeans around my prosthesis. I was about to stop her, not wanting her to have to take care of me, but she started talking, and my desire to know more about her outweighed everything else.
“She was neither, at least at first. After my mom died, a crone took me in. She became my family. She gave this bag to me.”
“She teach you to hunt as well?”
A smile spread across her face, and she chuckled again. “Yes, though it took her a while to convince me it was a skill I needed.”
I studied her as she gently removed my prosthesis.
The charred bone piece was designed and created by Lucifer and was a work of art.
“And was it? Have you needed to hunt a lot in your life?” I asked, even though it was obvious that she had, but I wanted every bit of information about her I could get.
Her lashes fluttered, her gaze still on my leg as she reached for the bottle of oil. “Yep, it was a necessity living as isolated as I did.”
“How old were you when your mother died?”
She stilled, just for a moment. “Young,” she said, but didn’t tell me an actual age.
“How isolated?”
“It was just me, and Ma…um, Maria.”
“Her name was Maria?”
“Mm-hmm.” She dripped oil into her palm. “Ready?” she said, finally looking up at me.
“And you never went into the city?”
She shook her head. “Maria did every few months for supplies, but not me, it was too dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Why was that?”
Her head shot up from what she was doing, her eyes wide. “Well, uh, M-Maria didn’t…um, trust easily. She wanted to keep me safe.”
She still hadn’t said from what. “Temp—”
“Ready?” she asked again, her hand hovering over my scars.
“You don’t need to...” A groan fell from me as she placed her hand on my bare thigh.
“Are you okay?” she rushed out. “I know touching your leg isn’t something you like, but this needs to be done, especially after our hike and if we’re going to carry on in the morning.”
I grunted; it was all I could manage. I didn’t like touching it, but having her hand on me was…it was something else.
“Is it very painful?” she asked as she gently swiped her hand up and back over the damaged skin.
It was, but her hot palm eased the tight muscle there with every gentle glide.
“A little.” I watched as she skimmed her fingers up and back once more, and seeing her lovely hand, smooth skin, pretty nails painted pink, on my scarred and ugly flesh made my stomach clench.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to do that. I can manage. I know it’s disgusting.”
Her green gaze sliced up to me. “I’m not disgusted, not at all.
And I hate that you think I would be. I’m touching skin and bone and muscle, Fender, that’s all.
Yes, it’s changed from what it once was.
You’re missing a part of yourself, and there’s a scar, but there is nothing here,” she said as she slid her hand lower, gliding over the end of my stump, “not one thing about this part of you that is disgusting.”
I swallowed thickly, a strange feeling in my chest growing wider. I wanted her so badly, but I didn’t know how to make her want me back. My brothers had talked about winning over their females when they first learned they had mates, and none of it was fucking helpful.
The only way to describe how I felt was untethered, confused, and constantly fucking horny.
There was nothing anyone could say to prepare you for it.
There was certainly no way to prepare for the wild emotions developing and swirling inside me.
Yes, a hound’s emotions were limited, but we understood more than we felt.
Lucifer had given us the ability to recognize different emotions in others.
Still, that wasn’t always easy, and it didn’t compare to experiencing them yourself.
I sure as fuck couldn’t name what I was feeling.
It was centered in my chest and made my heart beat faster and my stomach feel weird, and every time I was close to her, I was gradually starting to feel more.
I was struggling for words after what she’d just said to me.
“You’re so…you’re lovely, Tempest.” I don’t think I’d ever used that word or even thought it in my entire life, but that’s what she was. Tempest was lovely, in every way.
She stilled, her eyes widening. “You think I’m lovely?”
“Yeah, peaches, I do,” I rasped.