Chapter FOURTEEN
Watching Trey pace up and down anxiously outside the examination room, Jaime couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Still, she wasn’t budging. She, Dante, and the enforcers had been charged with guarding the door and ensuring that Trey didn’t get through. After he’d lost his temper four times with Grace, as if it was solely her fault that the baby wasn’t yet out, Taryn had insisted that he wait outside until she was fully dilated. If the sounds she was making were anything to go by, she wasn’t far off.
“I should be in there with her.”
“She’s not alone,” said Jaime. “Shaya will help keep her calm. Grace and Lydia have delivered lots of babies, so they know what they’re doing.”
“That’s not the point. I’m her mate. I should be in there.”
“As soon as it’s looking like the baby’s ready to come out, Grace will come get you.” Dante patted his back once as he passed. “Don’t worry. Taryn would never let you miss this.”
“I can feel how much pain she’s in—well, I can feel a hint of it, which is bad enough, and I take back that I said getting kicked in the balls was worse than childbirth. She’s also feeling woozy.
Drunk.”
Jaime smiled. “That’ll be the gas and air.”
Suddenly he grimaced and paled. “The contractions are getting real strong. I hate that I can’t help.”
“Trey! ”
At the sound of Taryn’s screech, he struggled to pass Jaime, Dante, and the enforcers.
“Trey, you bastard! ”
Instantly the guy stilled.
Jaime gave him a pitying smile. “Yeah, you really don’t want to go in there yet.” She had been around shifters in labor before, and she knew exactly how colorful the air could become, and just how easily the females could turn on their mates.
He straightened, as if steeling himself, and knocked loudly on the door.
“Not yet, Trey,” Shaya called from inside the room.
“Let me in, Shaya. I want to be with her.”
“Yeah, let the bastard in so I can break his nose and shove it up his—”
“Okay, Taryn, I’ll let him in.” Shaya only opened the door a crack, and Trey pushed his way inside, shutting the door behind him. His mate slung a string of profanities at him that had everybody’s lips twitching. Jaime didn’t move from her place near the closed door, determined to be one of the first to see the baby when someone finally allowed them in. Dante and the enforcers must have been thinking the same thing, because none of them moved either.
Half an hour and a lot of cursing, growls, and cries later, they heard Taryn declare, “I can’t do this! Just leave her in there. She’ll be fine.”
“You’re doing really well,” Lydia assured her.
“No, I’m done! I’m tired, I’m sweaty, I’m in agony, and why do I feel like I need to shit?”
“It’s totally natural to feel that way,” said Grace in a placatory, calming voice. “Some women even have one during labor.”
“What?” The word dripped with horror. “Women can shit when they’re in labor? Tell me that won’t happen to me! Don’t you let me shit, Grace!” A loud, lengthy cry signaled that she was having another contraction.
Trey’s voice was soft and encouraging. “Just breathe, baby.”
“I am f*cking breathing! And why does this gas and air make me sound like Darth Vader?”
“Here, how about I move it out the way for—”
“Don’t you touch it,” she growled at him. “It’s mine. Understand? Mine.”
“Okay, okay, you keep it, it’s yours.”
“Wanna try it?”
“No thanks, baby.” His smile could be heard in his voice. The only time his tone ever softened that way was when he was talking about, or talking to, his mate. It was a tone totally reserved for her.
A loud groan. “God, here comes another one.”
“You’re doing so well, Taryn,” praised Shaya. “I think you’ve only broken one of my fingers.”
“I think I’ve had a shit, Shaya.” The poor woman sounded distressed and mortified. “Have I, Grace? Don’t lie to me.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I have, you’re lying. Is she lying, Lydia?”
“No,” Lydia quickly said, “you haven’t, I promise.”
“Shaya, why does it feel like the bed’s floating?” Taryn asked in a very loud whisper, though Jaime was sure that Taryn thought she was being quiet.
“Maybe we should take the gas and air from her,” suggested Trey.
“F*cking try it.”
“Stop growling at me,” he whined.
“I’m not f*cking growling! You need a f*cking hearing aid!” More cries of pain as another contraction hit. “Grace…I think I can feel the head.”
“It is the head, Taryn,” confirmed Grace. “On the next contraction, I need you to push for me, okay.” A long pause. “Ready? Go.”
“Push,” encouraged Trey.
“ I am pushing, doofus.” A few moments later, there was a sob. “Why isn’t anything happening?”
“I know you’re tired, baby, but—”
“Don’t you touch me, Flintstone, this is your fault! Don’t think we’re playing Hiding Pedro ever again!”
Shaya sounded stern yet amused. “Now, Taryn, that wasn’t nice.”
“Cut it out of me!” Presumably Taryn was totally ignored, because she growled, “Fine. Give me a knife, I’ll do it!”
“One more, Taryn, and it’ll all be over, I promise. I need you to push really, really hard this time.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing all along? ”
It was doubtless that Grace paid no heed to the string of insults that Taryn called her. Not long later, Grace said, “Here we go again. Ready? One, two, three.” Jaime was pretty sure the entire pack flinched at the sound of Taryn’s high-pitched scream. As it faded, the sound of a baby crying filled everyone’s ears. Outside the room, everybody’s face instantly lit up, but no one made a sound, eager to hear what Grace would announce to Taryn and Trey. Ten seconds later…
“Congratulations, you have a baby boy!”
“I always said it was a boy. Didn’t I say it was a boy, Trey?”
“Yes, baby, you did,” he said with a choked cry.
At that point, everyone outside the room started jumping up and down and making loud celebratory noises. Jaime just knew that this kid was going to get spoiled rotten by the entire pack.
Her old pack hadn’t been like this one. Although everybody had looked out for each other, they hadn’t been so close and tight-knit. Baby Coleman would want for absolutely nothing.
It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that the door opened and Trey stepped out holding a tiny little bundle wrapped in a blue blanket, pride and awe written all over his face. “Everyone, this is Kye River Coleman.” Tao immediately tried to take him, but Trey shook his head. “Later. I only brought him out so you could all see him for a second.”
Jaime leaned over and lightly ran her fingers over his head of soft blond streaks. “Aw, he is too cute.”
“Trey, he looks just like you when you were a baby,” Greta told him. “Except for the blond hair. But we can cut that off, it’s fine.”
“You go near my son’s hair, you senile old witch, and I’ll finally shave that lip of yours!” called Taryn from inside the room.
Greta’s mouth twitched into a self-satisfied smile that had Trey sighing and shaking his head.
“You couldn’t wait until later before trying to irritate my mate?” Greta just shrugged unapologetically and went to take the baby. “You can all hold him later.”
“Please, just one little tiny hold!” pleaded Jaime.
He thought about it for a second and exhaled heavily. “Just a few of you. And quickly. You want his head in the crook of your elbow and then wrap your other arm around him,” he told her stiffly, as if repeating what he himself had been told.
Carefully, Jaime took the baby from Trey and smiled, marveling over just how gorgeous he was. Even all wrinkled and scrunched-up, he was too cute for words. Best of all was his smell. She had never smelled anything like it before. There was truly nothing to compare it to. It was just a sweet, earthy, divine, addictive scent that made her melt. It called to her on a primal level and made her consider things she hadn’t before, making her feel slightly off-center and exposed in a way she couldn’t explain. Instead of making her want to hand Kye over to someone else, it made her want to keep him right there where he was. Her wolf, too, had an urge to keep Kye close—an urge Jaime didn’t understand but didn’t question.
Dante watched Jaime holding Kye with a smile of pure delight on her face and felt a twinge in his chest. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he imagined her holding their baby. The picture was so clear in his mind that a lump actually appeared in his throat. Maybe it was the wonder of the moment, he wasn’t sure, but suddenly every wall he had fell away. Every fear and doubt was pushed to the back of his brain, and he felt stripped bare.
Going by the way Jaime was swallowing hard and biting on her lower lip even as she was still smiling down at Kye, Dante guessed that the same thing was happening to her. And then she looked up at him, flashing him a smile, but as their gazes met, a knowing so primitive and absolute hit him with a force that almost hurt. As her eyes widened, he knew the same knowing had hit her, and he was sure that the wonder, shock, confusion, and recognition in her eyes would be reflected in his own.
“She’s hogging him. Move out of the way so I can get to my great-grandson,” Greta complained as she tugged on the back of his T-shirt. Feeling in some kind of daze, he stepped aside.
As Jaime awkwardly handed Kye to Greta, he saw she was in that same daze. As she looked back at him, he saw another emotion on her face. Sheer panic.
No. The word continuously raced around Jaime’s brain. Her mate. He was her mate.
She didn’t need to ask herself how she hadn’t realized this before now. How would she have known? She could recall asking her mom about mating bonds when she was a little girl. Her mom had explained that a mating bond was like a frequency; if it was jammed by something—fears, mental barriers, doubts, an imprint bond, a reluctance to mate—the frequency couldn’t be picked up.
By caging her wolf and building so many walls, there was no way Jaime could have sensed it.
Dante was no more open than she was. He had walls of his own, not to mention a total aversion to finding his true mate. And what with her having that same aversion, neither of them had had a hope in hell of sensing it.
Maybe it should have occurred to her, since she’d been drawn to him even when they were kids, but plenty of people had crushes. A girl could crush on plenty of guys over the years, thinking she was totally and unquestioningly in love with each one of them at the time. Never with any of those guys had she wondered if it meant that he was her mate, so why would she have thought her crush on Dante was anything more than exactly that—a simple crush?
It wasn’t really important at this point. Now that she knew the truth, she had to figure out what she was supposed to do about it. What could she do about it? She sure couldn’t claim him for obvious reasons. But how could she be around him each day without doing so? Even now, she could feel the urge to take what was hers building in her system, taunting her, hounding her, and nagging at her.
Now she could understand exactly what Shaya and Nick were going through. No wonder the guy was finding it so difficult to stay away from Shaya. The draw was more than a simple attraction, more than just a pull. It was magnetic, enticing, a pressure on the mind that had nowhere to go. It was a crushing and overwhelming craving, as if she needed to feed an addiction. She honestly felt as though she might soon shake with the beating need to claim him.
The longer mates resisted, the worse the urge to claim became. Suddenly she felt a little sorry for Nick. Not that it excused his behavior. But she could understand it, just like she could understand Shaya’s need to be away from this person to whom she knew she would never be mated. There was no way that Jaime could be around Dante every day while this urge was gnawing at her. The only choice she had was to leave, even if the idea did send a dull pain knifing through her body and soul. It was that or go absolutely insane.
Gabe’s words suddenly came to her: his contention that if she ever left, Dante would track her down and bring her back. But Dante wasn’t stupid. He’d know that there was no way that they could claim each other as mates. It wouldn’t be simple to get any wolf—let alone a very dominant, controlling, possessive male wolf—to resist claiming his mate. But the sad reality was that they had no other choice but to part ways, and he would know that.
Jaime knew he was nearing her before she even scented him. She was now totally aware of him and of every move he made, and this awareness prickled all over her skin and tantalized her nerve endings.
“I think you and I need to have a talk,” Dante said into her ear. He could easily hear the lust and desperation in his voice. If he didn’t get inside her soon, if he didn’t claim her, he was going to lose it.
“Really? What about?” Playing dumb probably wouldn’t work, but she figured that if she just kept denying him he might get pissed and march off in a huff—inadvertently giving her time to pack and leave.
Dante wasn’t surprised by her response. He’d known that she would fight this. While he acknowledged the sense and logic in that, he also knew that nothing would prevent him from claiming her. Not her, not her anxiety, and not the chance that he would die with her if she turned rogue and was killed. “Our room. Now.”
“Why?” She kept her manner cool, knowing it would irritate both him and his wolf. His warning growl proved her to be right.
“We need to talk in private.”
Acting confused, she shrugged. “Okay. But we can do that in the office.” She knew perfectly well what would happen if they were anywhere near a bed.
“Someone might disturb us there. Let’s take a walk outside.” Reluctantly, Jaime allowed Dante to lead her outside and down to the clearing by the lake.
Only then did he release her hand before coming to stand in front of her. “No more playing games, Jaime. You know exactly what this is about.”
“I know that you’re acting weird.”
“I get that you’re scared, baby, and I get why. But if you expect me not to claim you, you don’t know me at all.”
“Claim me?” She forced a disbelieving shake of the head. “I thought you were totally against imprinting.”
His wolf bared his teeth. “Don’t, Jaime. Denying who I am to you pisses my wolf and me off more than you can ever imagine.”
Good. “On a serious note, did you bang your head or something, sweetie? Or maybe you’re talking in code. Yeah, I don’t understand code. I can speak Thundercat.”
“Jaime, this is a dangerous game you’re playing, baby. Stop. Now.”
“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out. I think I’ll just go on back to—”
“Don’t move, Jaime.” He went nose to nose with her. “You can keep on playing games, or you can acknowledge that I’m your mate, and we’ll discuss it like adults. Choose.”
“Your mate? You’re kidding, right?” Before she could see it coming, he wrapped one arm around her, pinning her own to her sides. With his free hand, he put pressure on the baroreceptor in the carotid artery at the base of her neck where it met her shoulder. Ten seconds or so later, she passed out.
God, who the hell was moaning? Oh, it was her, Jaime realized dazedly as she opened her eyes. It took no more than five seconds to remember exactly why she was in that daze. It was never a nice feeling waking up after blacking out, but it was worse when it had been your damn mate who sent you to dreamland. She’d kill the jerk.
Quickly it registered in her brain that that might be a little difficult right now. Not only were her wrists bound together, but they were pinned above her head. Pinned to a tree. Yes, two thick ropes—the same kind that he used for his cruel assault course—were securing her body to a tree; one was looped around her waist and the other was looped around her tied wrists. She really was going to kill him.
“Dante? Dante, what the hell is this?”
He didn’t appear or respond, but she knew he was there. Knew it. Repeatedly she squirmed and struggled within her bonds, ignoring the burning sensation it left on the flesh of her wrists and stomach. But no matter what she did, neither knot loosened even slightly. Similarly, the tie binding her wrists didn’t give. Because of how her hands were joined closely, as if in prayer, the only things her claws would have sliced open if she unsheathed them were her hands. So, yeah, okay, she had to face the fact that she was stuck to a tree. “I know you’re there. Get over here and untie me.” Her wolf was ready to tear out his throat.
A few moments later, Jaime watched as Dante slowly strolled out of the trees. He didn’t come close. He stopped at least five feet away from her, stiff as a board. He didn’t speak, didn’t move his gaze from hers, didn’t move at all. It was kind of eerie. Worse, his expression was completely blank.
There was no devilish smile, no playful twinkle in his eyes. “Untie me.” No response. “Now, Dante.” Nothing. “Stop being a jerk, Popeye! You want to talk? Fine, we’ll talk. Now untie me.” Still nothing.
Okay, now she was really freaked out. She had to wonder if this was what he was like when he was interrogating intruders, if this was that “zone” that Trey had mentioned. He wasn’t going to torture her into admitting he was her mate, was he? No, Dante wouldn’t hurt her. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that he would never ever hurt her.
When Dante saw the flash of fear on her face, he almost caved. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He knew she was spooked and feeling vulnerable, but that was the whole idea. He knew just how stubborn she could be. If Jaime didn’t want to do something, nothing in the world could make her. As such, if she wanted to put those damn walls of hers up again and keep him out, there was no way to get them down again. Not unless he stripped her of them. Not unless he made her as vulnerable and unguarded as she’d been when she held Kye in her arms. The only way to get her to admit the truth to both him and to herself was to lower those walls for just a minute.
Surprising Jaime, the robotic version of her male slowly came toward her. Although he didn’t close the distance between them, she could feel the heat emanating from him and covering her like a blanket. If he reached out, he could touch her. But he didn’t. And that unblinking stare was too eerie for words.
She kicked out at him, but he caught her foot and pulled off her shoe, slinging it aside.
Instinctively, she kicked out with her other foot, only for him to do the same damn thing. Irate beyond belief, she repeatedly kicked out at him, growling and snarling. Although she managed to make contact a few times, the big, overgrown male didn’t even flinch. In fact, he waited patiently, like a parent might do for a toddler having a tantrum.
Weary and panting, she finally stilled. “Let me down, Dante,” she said unsteadily. It wasn’t just her anxiety that had her feeling shaky. It was the intense, crushing, overwhelming urge to have him inside her, to mark him, and to have him mark her. In spite of how freaked she was feeling, need was curdling low in her belly, and she was wet and aching. Going by the low growl he released as his nostrils flared, he’d sensed it.
Finally, his blank gaze freed hers, and his eyes lowered to her T-shirt. Abruptly, he unsheathed his claws and tore it open. In another abrupt movement, he snapped open her bra, freeing her breasts.
He took a moment to look at them, hunger and lust blazing from his eyes, before shredding her jeans and panties. Her wolf growled in approval of his strength, aroused by the power in his body and the intensity of his mood. Apparently, the fact that he’d tied her to a tree was no longer so important to her wolf. Weird animal.
Cocking his head and pursing his lips, he slowly raked his eyes over her, much like a predator that had caught its prey and was assessing its worth. He took in every inch of her from her feet to her…throat. Her face didn’t seem relevant, as if all he viewed her as right now was a conveniently available body. That hurt.
“Dante, let me down.” To her infuriation and discomfort, he didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken. Ever so slowly he moved until there was only a hairbreadth between them, his eyes glued to her throat. Oh no. He was going to claim her right this second, like this. “Dante, enough is enough, all right. You’ve had your fun. Now untie this damn rope!”
Instead, he leaned forward and licked the crook of her neck. A shudder traveled down her spine and her * tingled, making her gasp and moan. Again, he licked the same spot. And again. And again. Then he raked his teeth over it, and she squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what he was going to do and hating him for it. But, surprising the hell out of her, he suddenly dropped to his knees.
She watched as he inhaled deeply, taking the scent of her arousal inside him, but he didn’t lean forward as she’d expected him to. No. When he finally touched her, it was only to run his fingertip over her foot. She couldn’t help but moan in relief at the skin-to-skin contact. Taking his time, he explored every inch of her legs with the gentlest touch, sliding his hands over them like he’d never seen them before. Like he was learning her, worshipping her, memorizing her, marking her…but never was his touch seductive or invasive. He totally skipped her sensitive zones. It drove her freaking crazy, and she was breathing so heavily she thought she might hyperventilate.
Then he was exploring her stomach using his hands, tongue, and teeth. Her entire body shuddered when he traced a circle around her belly button with his tongue. She would never have thought that a soft, gentle touch could fire her arousal, but to her surprise it totally did. God, she needed to come so badly, and he knew it.
By the time he finally stood before her again, she was trembling with want. And what did he do? Just stared at her breasts. Stared! It felt like an hour had passed before he reached out and trailed the tip of his index finger along her collarbone, pausing briefly to swirl it inside the hollow of her throat. His tongue traced that same path, and her head thumped back onto the tree as she tried arching toward him—and failed. Again, there was nothing seductive about his movements, but she was more turned on than she had ever been in her life.
She didn’t realize he’d dropped to his knees again until she felt his tongue at her navel.
Slowly, he dragged his tongue upward, occasionally nipping her flesh as he went, traveling through the valley of her breasts and only stopping when he reached the hollow of her throat. A tremor rippled through her entire body, causing her eyes to fall shut and a loud moan to escape her.
When she opened her eyes, he still wasn’t looking at her face, but at her breasts. She wanted him to look into her eyes, wanted some form of acknowledgement. “Untie me.” She gasped as he lazily and teasingly circled a nipple with his finger, never quite touching the hard bud itself. He gave the same treatment to the other nipple before replacing his finger with his tongue. Then he sucked her nipple into his mouth, grazing the hard bud with his teeth and biting down. “If you’re not going untie me, then at least make me come!”
The jerk didn’t react in any sense. Needing some kind of relief, Jaime wrapped a leg around his hips and ground her * against the hard bulge in his jeans. There was no reaction from him whatsoever, as if he didn’t even notice. She was about to yell at him again when a finger suddenly slid between her folds, sending shudders of pleasure and relief through her body. That same finger lightly flicked her * and circled it over and over, but the movements were too featherlike to make her come.
“Dante, why are you doing this?” she practically sobbed. He said nothing. Just slid his finger between her folds again, letting the tip hover near her entrance. “You want me to beg, is that it?” Still no reaction. Ever so slowly— too freaking slowly—he pushed his finger inside her. A noise that was something between a groan and a sob escaped her. Repeatedly, he slowly and gently thrust his finger inside her, pausing occasionally to swirl it around. God, she was so damn close to coming and so damn close to going insane. Her cries became louder as her climax began closing in on her. It was going to be a big one…But then he stopped and withdrew his finger. Stopped!
She was about to tell him she was going to rip his cock off in his sleep when he was back on his knees and his tongue was teasing her *. “Oh my God.” Using his thumbs to part her folds, he licked and nipped and growled against her flesh. Then he was sucking her * between his lips and nibbling on the hood. She cried out as two of those magical fingers pushed inside her. Her muscles automatically tightened around them, trying to keep them. The bastard withdrew them. “Stop teasing me!” It was supposed to be a scream, but it came out as a pathetic wail.
Then Dante proceeded to show her the real meaning of being teased. Again and again, he brought her to her peak with his tongue and fingers, only to stop and wait for her to come down from her high before starting all over again. Sometimes he would return his attention to her breasts instead, leaving her feeling emptier than she had ever felt in her life.
She sagged in relief when he finally lowered his zipper and freed his cock. The feel of the head rubbing at her entrance was so good that she almost cried. Panting with the need to come, she wrapped her other leg around his hip—an invitation. But instead of plunging inside her, he lowered her legs and began fondling her breasts again.
She screamed in frustration and struggled against her bonds, but it was useless. As if she wasn’t writhing, screaming, and insulting him, Dante continued to alternate from teasing her breasts to finger-f*cking her to sinuously rubbing his cock between her folds. She moaned. She groaned. She whimpered. She sobbed. She cried. She threatened his livelihood. She even tried kicking the shit out of him again. After what felt like hours of sensual torture, she was practically delirious with the need to come. So delirious that she did what she’d never done before.
“Please!” Nothing. He simply continued to nibble on her shoulder while teasing her * with the tip of his finger. She curled her legs around his hips again and groaned as she felt the head of his cock against her entrance. “Please f*ck me!” Still no reaction. What made the whole thing so much worse was that he wouldn’t meet her eyes, wouldn’t even look at her face, wouldn’t talk to or respond to her. Like she was just any woman, like she was no one at all to him.
A mixture of enraged, hurt, horny, and restless, she completely snapped. “You don’t get to treat me like this! Like I’m just some faceless f*ck! I’m not one of your one-night stands! I’m not one of your little sluts! I’m your mate!” He rammed every inch of his cock into her and, that easily, she fragmented. A throaty scream tore from her as flames of ecstasy lanced through her, making violent orgasmic convulsions rack her entire body.
When she opened her eyes, she gasped at the feverish hunger glowing on his face. How he hadn’t come was beyond her understanding. He really was the embodiment of self-control. Although he was meeting her gaze— finally— he still didn’t speak to her. She realized then what he’d been doing. Realized what he wanted. She didn’t want to give it to him, she really didn’t, but she couldn’t fight him, or this, either. She needed him so much in every way someone could need another person.
She had even before she knew he was her mate.
Suddenly feeling drained mentally and physically, Jaime sagged and her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. She cried and cried, hating how weak and helpless she was. When she felt him kiss her hair, she returned her gaze to his. His expression was patient, expectant, and resolute. He wasn’t going to budge on this.
“I’m your mate.” She cried out as he rewardingly thrust once inside her. “Your mate,” she again admitted, and again he drove into her just once. She knew what he was waiting for. “And you’re mine.”
Triumph, relief, and satisfaction filled Dante. “Goddamn right. And don’t ever forget it.” Then he was gripping her ass and hammering his cock inside her. Taking her. Claiming her. Branding her.
Jaime thought she might black out; his pace was merciless and wild, and it felt so amazing and right that tears stung her eyes. Although the bark of the tree was biting into her skin, it only complemented the other sensations spiraling through her as every bit of the ravenous longing that had been riding her was now, finally, indulged.
“Tell me what you want, Jaime,” he ordered hoarsely. “Tell me.” The urge to claim her as his mate was pushing Dante so hard it was actually painful, but he wouldn’t do it without her consent.
Not just because it wouldn’t be fair to her, but because he needed to hear her say that she wanted it.
His stubborn mate didn’t. Abruptly he stilled, staring deep into her glazed smoky-blue eyes. Ignoring her sounds of irritation, he held her immobile and flexed his cock inside her, making her whimper.
“Do you want me to claim you?” he demanded.
A huge part of her was saying no, but it was drowned out by her need to have every part of him, to lay the ultimate, irrevocable claim on him. “Do it.” He withdrew until only the head of his cock was inside her. “Not good enough. I need to hear you say that you want it.”
A short pause. “I want it.”
Dante thrust up into her tight p-ssy, wrenching a loud cry from her. Then he was again ramming into her relentlessly, determined to leave no doubt in her mind of who she belonged to and would always belong to. Growling, he brought his mouth down hard on hers. He thrust his tongue inside, meeting hers, exploring every crevice of her mouth. The kiss was greedy, deep, and urgent, and she met every demanding stroke of his tongue with equal intensity.
As he’d expected, she jumped in surprise as he let one of his fingers gently circle the bud of her ass. “Shh. I’m not going to hurt you, baby. You know that. But I am going to f*ck this ass soon.
F*ck you where no one else ever has. Because it’s mine to f*ck, to protect, and to blister with my hand if you ever deny I’m your mate again.”
Startling a cry from Jaime, he pushed his finger into her ass. The sting didn’t distract her from the hurt in his voice. She hadn’t meant or wanted to do that by denying him. On the contrary, she’d been trying to protect him from a very uncertain future. But still, she’d caused him pain, and she hated herself for that. “I’m sorry.”
The apology startled Dante so much that he actually stopped. “Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me you’ll never deny me again.”
His pain was still in his voice. Determined to take it away, Jaime did something that she, as a dominant female, would never have envisioned herself doing. She gave him her throat.
As her head fell back in invitation and submission, Dante groaned and almost came right then.
His mate was submitting to him in the ultimate way. “Such.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Good.” Thrust.
“Girl.” With what could only be described as a territorial growl, he resumed pounding into her so hard he was pretty sure it was hurting her, but there was no way he could hold back even one ounce of himself.
Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he licked and scraped his teeth over the spot where he’d visualized his mark would be. “My good girl. My mate.” To punctuate that, he sank his teeth hard and deep into her skin, tasting blood, and plunged a second finger into her ass.
White-hot fire lanced through Jaime, and she screamed his name as the most intense and most moving orgasm she had ever experienced slammed into her. She succumbed to the primal urge to bite down on his neck, sucking hard and branding him as hers.
As her p-ssy clamped around his cock and her teeth marked him, Dante half growled, half groaned. He punched into her one last time and erupted inside her, fully claiming her as his mate.
“Mine.”
What happened next was as exactly as Jaime’s mother had described; her whole body tightened and a painful pressure thumped her brain, but the pain quickly disappeared and feelings of
“warmth” and “rightness” flowed over and through her. She felt comforted, secure, and safe. Although she could easily feel her connection to Dante, it was only partly developed and not yet solid. Still, she could sense him and what he was feeling. Could feel him on a preternatural level, feel him completely, as though he was blanketed around her. She knew that even when they were apart, she would feel him, would feel joined to him. In that way, the bond was a little like a shadow—something she wouldn’t be able to touch, but a presence that was always right there.
Dante easily sensed that Jaime was going through the same sensations that he was. The metaphysical bond allowed him to simply know what she was feeling. As such, he could sense her happiness and contentedness just as he could also sense her fear that by bonding with him, she would destroy him. “Do you really think I’d want to live without you anyway?” Jaime groaned. “Oh God, I’m going to have to cope with you sensing my feelings all the time, aren’t I?” Panting and shuddering with the aftershocks, they were still locked together. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his gentle touch so at odds to his roughness of a minute ago.
“Yup. That means no more secrets. And it means that whenever I’m messing up, I’ll know and I can fix it before hurting you.”
“And it means I’ll know whenever your mind is on your job instead of me.” She’d expected him to panic a little at that, but he smiled.
“I haven’t done that for a while.” Reluctantly he withdrew from her body, but he held her to him. After slicing through the two ropes securing her to the tree with his claws, he tackled the knot tying her wrists. She groaned in pain as she lowered her arms and rotated her shoulders. “I’m sorry, baby.” Laying her on the grass, he straddled her and gently massaged her arms and shoulders.
“I can’t give you all of me,” she whispered. He froze for only a second. “I can’t let down all the walls.”
“Yes, you can,” he objected gently. “I know you’re afraid to share the burden of subduing your wolf, and I know why. But I want to help.”
“I don’t want you to have to.” The last thing she’d ever wanted was to go to her mate loaded with baggage. She didn’t want Dante to have to heal her.
“I know. But I’m greedy and I want all of you—the good parts and the bad parts. Have you considered that maybe over time the bond will help your wolf heal? It will serve as an anchor, which is something she’s never had before.”
Jaime might have thought he was just kidding himself, but even now she could feel her wolf’s contentment with the bond. “But if she doesn’t, I could make you weak. I could even kill you.”
“Or we could make each other even stronger.” When she went to object, he leaned down and kissed her gently. “No. If you can’t say anything nice, zip it.” She snapped her teeth at him, but smiled.
“I don’t care about what may or may not happen. You’re my mate and that’s it.”
“And you’re mine. And if you ever let another female touch you again, I’ll gut you both.” She rolled her eyes at his crooked grin. God save her from guys who found jealousy hot!