This is so fucked up. Every other member of this pack will bend over backwards to appease me. Everyone is always angling for an invite to my cabin. Making up excuses to drop by. And here’s my mate. She won’t even come past the welcome mat.
It’s meant to scrub the dirt from your soles. It’s gotta be rough on her bare feet.
And she’s shivering. She’s cold.
My wolf whacks me upside the head. Shit. I’m terrible at this mate shit. “You want clothes?”
She nods.
I stride to the back bedroom and find myself some track pants. I grab her a hoodie. I don’t want her covered—my wolf in particular disapproves—but her unhappiness is sour, and it abrades my nerves.
I’m all jangly and uptight. I want to fight something. And I don’t like her being out of my sight. I trot back to the big room. She’s right where I left her, same prune-ish scowl.
I hand her the sweatshirt, and she practically dives into it. My wolf grumbles, but the tightness in my chest lightens a touch.
I like her in my clothes. It feels right. I don’t like her body hidden from me, but her ass needs to be covered. Males come by all the time with one problem or another. They don’t need to see her until she has my scent coming out of her pores. My seed inside her. Dripping from those dark curls between her legs.
My wolf surges, a giant wave that almost knocks me unsteady. He wants to mount her now, and he’s losing patience. He was pissed as hell back in the windbreak when I forced him out of our skin. He was pushing too hard, though. Her wolf was down to fuck, but she was nowhere near ready.
Later. Soon enough.
I jerk back on the reins.
I can’t handle her rough. She’s—I don’t know the word. Delicate doesn’t seem right. But instinct tells me I gotta be gentle. Tread carefully. Unfortunately, that’s not my forte. Nor my wolf’s.
My hoodie comes to mid-thigh on her. Doesn’t really hide many of the scars, and they’re bad. There’s a Frankenstein quality to them, as if the wounds were stitched in haste. Who tended to her? Couldn’t have been the crone. The crone would’ve never abided such shoddy work.
Out of nowhere, Una makes a soft little harrumph, her wolf adding a little growl. She gives me her back, shoulders up to her ears.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Thought you’d like the rear view. So you can take it all in.”
She’s shaking. Vibrating with anger and hurt. The thread may be slight, but the feelings stream into my chest, toxic and awful.
I didn’t mean to upset her. Again. I suck at this. I tilt my face to the ceiling, cracking my neck. What do I do?
Usually, when a female drops by, she takes the lead, asks for a cup of sugar or suggests a game of cards or something. Or just gets on her knees.
I’ve got my mate in my den, and she’s glaring at the front door, tense as hell, and her wolf’s growling low, riling mine.
“Come on. Sit down.” I back away, give her space. Gesture to the sofa. She finally turns back to face the room.
I take a seat. Put myself below her level. Try to calm her wolf. Let her take the dominant position for a while. Females love that feeling of power.
Una shakes her head. “No, thanks.”
I almost say, “I don’t bite.” I swear, it’s my wolf who stops me.
“We can talk,” I say instead.
“I can’t sit on that thing.”
A bright red flush has creeped up her neck and stained her cheeks. She re-braided her hair in the truck, but a strand’s come loose, and she’s winding it tight around her finger.
“Why not?” I try to smile. Let her know I mean no harm. I’m not really a smiler, though. She kind of grimaces in response. “Can’t we have a conversation?”
Her blush darkens. “I can’t. It stinks.”
It’s leather. It smells good. I draw in a deep breath. All I smell is her—her warm deliciousness and her tart displeasure. I almost like her scent better with an edge.
“Like what?” I ask.
Her gaze skitters wildly around the room. I hope she notices how big it is. I renovated it myself when I became alpha. Doubled the square feet. Added the loft. It’s got Energy Star appliances.
“You gonna keep me in suspense, shy girl?”
She glares mutinously at the rug halfway between us. “Females.”
“Nah.” I give the cushion a good sniff. I mean, yes, I’ve gotten my knob polished plenty on this sofa, but I have the cabin cleaned on the regular. It’s immaculate. “I don’t smell it.”