10. Hettie
Chapter 10
Hettie
H e’s close. So fucking close. His masculine scent envelops me. I need to pull away, but…I don’t. I’m trapped in his heated stare, and I don’t want whatever spell we’re under to break.
I don’t know what possesses me to pull Rip back down, crashing our lips together in a hungry battle for dominance. But the newly formed bond between us has me wanton. Tallie said the feeling is intense. I expected a bad case of lust, not…whatever the fuck this is.
Rip stiffens for a fraction of a second, and then he’s there, cupping my face and kissing me like I’m the only woman in his universe. Like if he broke apart from me, he wouldn’t ever have this opportunity again.
I feel everything . This must be the bond Tallie mentioned. I sense Rip’s desire for me. The lust and need he can’t control. But I also sense his fear. Fear for the safety of those he loves and fear for not being able to protect me properly.
A needy sound comes out of me that I’ll definitely regret later when my body isn’t on fire with need. I feel every inch of Rip’s body, and his hard cock presses against my stomach. My pussy screams in protest, wanting something we can’t have. At least not now. Maybe ever.
Because Rip might be my mate now—whatever that entails—but this isn’t a love match. This is a mutually beneficial pairing, and me and my horny vagina need to remember that. No matter how badly I want more than this breathtaking kiss. It’s the damn drink that’s making me lose my mind to lust. I don’t feel in control of my own body or brain. I feel him in my head. It’s…bizarre.
Once again, Rip is the one to break us apart. I try to hold back my disappointment, but it comes out in the form of a pout anyway. His face is pure smug male satisfaction, but then he quickly slips back into the mask he’s good at wearing. “It’s done,” he says.
Moments ago, I caught glimpses of Rip. The side he doesn’t show to the world. The emotions he fed me suddenly cease, and walls build up around him, not letting anything through. The bond feels…cold. Distant. Desolate.
I expect there to be more to the ceremony. A closing statement, maybe an acknowledgment from Rip, but none of those things happen. Rip nods once to his aunt and reaches for my hand. I try to back away, but he isn’t having it. He takes my hand and forces it on his arm, curling his hand over mine.
“I go from being your mate to becoming your prisoner in less than a minute,” I snarl, hoping he can see my reproachful glare.
The side of his mouth quirks up. “You can never make anything easy, can you, Hettie?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I ask with fake sweetness.
“Careful, Dove. Bad girls get spanked.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I have to press my thighs together at the image of Rip bending me over his bed and spanking me. It’s equal parts humiliating and sexy. “Don’t call me Dove,” I murmur, not wanting to give away how much his words affect me.
But does this newfound bond make him feel my emotions? I don’t know how to shield them like he does. I should probably add that to my to-do list.
“I think I quite like it, actually. Dove seems fitting.”
My scowl only deepens, and Rip stops when he approaches Tallie and Thorne. “You’ll handle things tomorrow while Hettie and I are occupied?” he asks.
Occupied? Occupied doing what?
Tallie nods. “Of course. We can handle everything for a day. Oh, and, Hettie, I’ll keep Grass with me tonight, if that’s alright. He seemed pretty content lounging by the fire.”
I forgot Grass stayed behind at Tallie’s house. He’s loving being the center of attention and spoiled by everyone he passes. I have yet to see another dog here, so I’m thinking Grass might be the only one. And I’m sure he will be more than fine with that.
“Thank you. He’s always up early expecting to eat, though.”
“So is Thorne.” Tallie smiles. Thorne laughs, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.
For a moment, I allow myself to imagine a love so pure and strong, like the one I can see between Thorne and Tallie. I’m not a jealous person, despite how hard my former boyfriends tried to make me, but looking at them, all I can feel is the intense need to have what they have.
“Congratulations. I think you’ll make a fine Luna, Hettie.” Thorne smiles and leads Tallie away, presumably back home. Imelda isn’t far behind them, leaving Rip and me alone.
“That’s really all there is to it?” I ask, unable to hide my disappointment. I expected…more.
Rip starts walking, and I’m pulled along with him. “What were you expecting?”
“I…” What was I expecting? Music. Maybe more people in attendance. A slow dance? “I don’t know.”
“What do humans do for mating?” he sounds genuinely curious.
“Well, we don’t mate. We just call it getting married so you can become spouses. There’s a big ceremony, an outrageously expensive white dress, and vows from the two getting married. Then afterwards, there’s a big reception for family and friends to dance, eat, and celebrate.”
“Was that what you wanted? A reception? Dancing?”
“I…guess not. It’s just different.”
Rip stays silent for a long time after, and I think the conversation is over until he says, “Our ceremony wasn’t typical. The bonding between the King Alpha and his Luna is usually an all-day celebration. Perhaps more like you were expecting.” He pauses but doesn’t look at me. “But we don’t have the luxury of a grand ceremony. Not with Michael and…”
He trails off, so close to saying more, but leaving me without answers again. “Michael and what? Why couldn’t we do the big ceremony? Are you ashamed of me?”
“No.” The word comes out harsher than I expect, and I flinch. Rip notices and narrows his eyes. “That is the second time you’ve flinched around me. Do you want to tell me why?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to tell me about Michael and the dangers we are apparently facing?” I shoot back, mostly so I don’t have to speak on things I would much rather keep buried. Rip looks like he wants to pry more, but wisely drops it. I’m not naive enough to think it’s for good though.
“You’ll learn everything you need to know about the pack starting tomorrow, Dove,” he says, once again with the stupid nickname.
I don’t realize we’ve made it back to the packhouse until we are walking up the stairs. Two guards open the front door for us, both nodding respectfully at Rip, who acknowledges them with a slight dip of his head. One man’s eyes go to my neck and widen when he sees the bite. It must be a sight to see. I feel it throbbing, but it’s not really painful anymore.
“Luna,” he says in a hasty greeting, bowing formally and pulling the other guard down to join him.
“Erm, you don’t have to do that,” I say.
“Yes, they do.” Rip gives the men a once-over before pulling me through the door, past the confused stares of his men. He walks me up the grand staircase, lit with oil lamps, and leads me to our room.
“Do you think I should put bandages on my neck or?—”
“No bandages,” he growls. “It’s already healing. People need to see my mark on you.”
“I think it’s grossly unfair that I have to wear your damn mark, but you don’t have a mark on your body. Pretty damn sexist, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, you should.”
“Do you want to bite me, Dove?”
Heat pools between my legs at his suggestive words. Despite my annoyance, my body reacts to him on a carnal level. The bond takes my reluctant attraction to him and amplifies everything tenfold.
“I’m just saying I shouldn’t be the only one with a mark, like I’m property,” I mumble, the bravado from earlier leaving.
The bastard only grins. Seems like the only time he smiles is when he pisses me off. He doesn’t reply as he pushes past me to open the door to our room. My body goes stiff as I see him enter. “You’re staying in here?”
Rip makes his way to the fireplace, grabbing the stoker that lies against the wall to poke at the already blazing fire. He watches the wood burn for a moment before putting the stoker back.
“It’s my room. Where else would I stay, Dove?” he asks like I should have already known that. I just expected him to stay somewhere else like he did last night. The large room suddenly feels too cramped.
Rip then walks into the bathroom, leaving me to my own devices. Today’s events hit me all at once, and I bite back a sob. I ignore the prickle of tears stinging my eyes as I find a neatly folded nightgown on the bed. I presume one of Rip’s staff members left it for me. I pick up the delicate fabric, the soft silk caressing my skin. It isn’t something I would normally wear. It’s a little too provocative to wear to bed with a near stranger, but I’ll deal.
I listen for any movement that Rip might come out soon, and when I’m certain he won’t walk in on me butt-ass naked, I strip. Getting the dress off is no easy task, and I’m certain I hear the undeniable rip of thread. The tulle on the skirt tangles around my legs more than once, and I barely save myself from face-planting.
By the time I get the gown on, I’m panting like I just ran a mile and not simply undressed .
Just as I thought, the gown barely covers my ass, and the neckline is cut low. One wrong move in the middle of the night, and a boob will pop out. The last thing I want to do is give my new mate a show he doesn’t deserve. My tits are nice, and it’s a privilege to get to see them.
After kicking my clothes out of the way, I climb into bed, facing away from the bathroom door. Thoughts of Michael and my rushed mating ceremony come to mind. Everything is happening so fast, and I’m not even certain I’m safe here like Ender said I would be.
Despite my best efforts, tears run down my cheeks.
I hate crying, but I’m not against it. I firmly believe crying is a show of struggling to win a battle—where nothing else will purge the emotions swirling and thrashing inside you. But for me personally, I hate crying. It’s not cute. It’s snotty. And I feel so small.
The door opens behind me, and I hear Rip moving around. Soon the bed dips, and my body immediately tenses. A silly part of me wonders if I stay completely still if he’ll notice me. But, of course he will. He can sense me now, not to mention I’m a big blob in the middle of his bed.
“Hettie…are you crying?” I can’t tell if he sounds horrified or concerned. Probably the former. Who wants a strange woman you just had to mate for life crying in your bed? Sounds like a real downer.
“No.” Even as I say it, another tear rolls down my cheek, and I quickly move my hand to wipe it away.
Not quick enough. Rip’s arm shoots out and catches my wrist. He is gentle but firm as he rolls me over in bed. My tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes are a dead giveaway to how I’m feeling. For once, I don’t see the teasing or apathetic fa?ade Rip usually wears around me. He looks…pained. I can’t help bu t flinch.
Instantly, Rip drops my hand and pulls back. His pained expression is long gone, and through our bond, I feel his anger get past his defenses. I’m not sure how to react as he storms around the bed and all but drags me up into a sitting position.
“What the hell?!” I gasp, confused and angry by his reaction.
“That’s the third time.” His jaw is set in a hard line, eyes dark with something I can’t quite explain.
“Third time for what?” I swear, if this man plans to spend the rest of my life confusing me, I might just let Michael have me so I can get away from this.
“The third time you’ve flinched when I touched you. Have I threatened to hurt you?”
“No, but?—”
“Have I made any attempt at hurting you?”
“No, but?—”
“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”
“For fuck’s sake, Rip?—”
“Answer the damn question, Hettie.” His voice is unnaturally low. Never once does he take his eyes off me, even when I squirm and try to move away. He keeps me locked into place.
Do I think Rip is going to hurt me? I’m wary around men in general because what woman isn’t? I’ve had my fair share of bad men who left me scarred, not only physically, but mentally as well. So, yeah, maybe I am projecting on Rip.
But do I really think this man is going to hurt me?
“No,” I say, surprising myself. “I don’t think you’d intentionally hurt me, Rip.”
Rip’s body relaxes. When he takes my hand again, I don’t flinch, not wanting to cause any more problems. “Then someone else made you fear touch.” Silence stretches between us. “Know this, Hettie. I can’t promise you much right now, but I can promise you I will never hurt you. You will never know fear when we are alone. I give you my word.”
This isn’t the first time a man has promised he wouldn’t ever hurt me, but it is the first time I believed someone. For all of Rip’s faults, I know in this he speaks the truth. “I believe you,” I whisper, but the words sound loud in the otherwise quiet room.
Rip holds my attention a moment longer and then nods. Something unspoken passes between us. A small part of the armor we both wear crumbles away. It’s not much, but it’s a start.
“Good.” He abruptly moves back to his side of the bed, leaving me wondering if what just happened between us is something I simply imagined. He slips into the bed next to me, keeping a respectable distance between us. For good measure, though, I construct a mountain of pillows between us.
“Is that necessary?” he asks, deadpan, once I’m finished.
“Very,” I hum.
I swear I hear him chuckle, but it’s faint. “Sleep well. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“What’s tomorrow?”
The bed dips again. I feel Rip moving to make himself comfortable. Soon the room is silent once again, and the last thing I hear before sleep overtakes me is, “Answers, Dove. Answers.”