“Right. Mason. Anyway, thanks for your concern. Bye.” She said goodbye while her body simply wanted to say hello, come to momma.
Lucy’s body screamed for her to throw herself into his arms and cover his body with kisses. Unfortunately—fortunately?—the pain in her leg distracted her enough to keep her sanity in place.
As she slowly closed the door in Mason’s shocked face, it occurred to her he’d never given an explanation for his visit, but she’d committed herself to getting rid of him. Besides, if she had to look into those sea foam green eyes for one more second, her resolve would drain away and she’d happily become his sex slave.
That was the last thing she needed.
When the door clicked shut, Lucy closed her eyes and leaned against the frame, listening to his footsteps as he stomped off her porch. She tried to will her heart to slow, but it defied her. Her breathing defied her as well.
Pushing off with her good leg, Lucy prayed that by morning, the crazy day she’d just experienced would feel like a distant memory. Yeah, not happening. She was pretty sure she could look forward to a fantasy-filled night starring the one and only Mason Blackwood. Yum.
Chapter Six
Mason stared at the door. The closed door.
Closed.
In his face.
By his mate.
He waited a beat, half-expecting her to fling it wide and throw that luscious body of hers into his arms. He’d been utterly dazzled by her beauty and couldn’t wait to lay eyes—and much more—on her again. Soon.
Her blonde hair was cut into a stylish shaggy bob that somehow accentuated her full lips. He liked that she hadn’t been wearing a lot of makeup. Nothing but the thin layer of gloss on her lips that had made him harden in an instant. The oversized sweats she wore did nothing to hide her perky breasts, trim waist and well-rounded hips. As he recalled how they’d stretched against the soft material, Mason imagined holding onto those hips as he slammed into her over and over. Not stopping until she exploded, and he claimed her as his mate.
Perfect. Now his dick was hard as nails.
It didn’t help that her resistance turned him on even more than her beauty. No woman had ever denied him. Most pursued him relentlessly, willing to bow to his every whim. If he’d been a different kind of man, he could have easily taken advantage of those ladies. Instead, he’d treated his lovers with the respect they’d deserved.
Funny that when he’d finally found his mate, she’d all but rejected him. Not funny “ha-ha.” More like funny “fuck that.” Still, he admired her dignity and self-confidence. An alpha mate needed to be feisty. An alpha mate needed to be willing to stand up to him.
With a frustrated huff, Mason spun on his heel and stomped down the steps, doing his best to ignore the wolfish chuckles coming from the shrubs on either side of the porch. At the bottom step, he paused and gave a low warning growl to the sentries he’d brought along.
“Something funny?” He kept his voice low, not wanting Lucy thinking he was truly unbalanced.
Despite the ass kicking Mason had given Anders that morning, the man and his partner, Quinn, only laughed harder.
“Laugh it up, Tweedle-Dumb and Dumber,” Mason growled. “We’ll see who’s laughing in the morning when I spar with both of you at once. I’ll be kicking your asses. Again.”
Anders stopped laughing first, and then they both groaned and fell silent.
“Quinn, watch the front. Anders, the back. I’ll be back in fifteen.”
Fourteen minutes later, Mason was back on Lucy’s porch and staring at her door while he tried to figure out his next move. A human male would knock politely and wait until she invited him inside. He didn’t need his werewolf instincts to know she’d never welcome him. She’d slam the door in his face again and that assumed she opened it in the first place.
His wolf howled at him to break that door down and hunt her through the house. Nothing should stand in the way of an alpha and his mate. Ever. His happy ass should be by Lucy’s side, not standing out on the porch like a dog begging be let in from the cold.
Mason huffed. He already knew his mate well enough to know she wouldn’t appreciate him bashing her door down. He decided on settling for a happy medium. He grabbed the doorknob and turned. Hard. Too hard, as he discovered when the knob twisted off in his hand.
Oops. I guess it’s open.
With an unconcerned shrug, he dropped the twisted bit of metal on the porch and eased the door open. Her scent hit him like a sledgehammer, soothing his wolf and allowing Mason to track her to the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in her phone, hair falling around her face and caressing her cheeks. He wanted to tuck those strands behind her ear and feel the softness of her skin against his fingertips. He stood there and just watched her. At least until she caught sight of him from the corner of her eye.
Her bloodcurdling scream probably made the sentries wonder exactly what the hell Mason was doing, but he didn’t really have time to worry about them. Not when his mate reached for the knife block on the counter and whipped out the longest blade.
“What the fuck!” Yeah, she had a strong set of lungs.
Ignoring her, he stepped forward and placed the paper bag he’d brought onto the small kitchen table. He then went to the cupboards, opening and closing several until he found plates before hunting up utensils and napkins.
“I’m serious.” She jabbed at the air. “That’s it, I’m calling the cops.”
In her panic, Lucy had dropped her phone, the small bit of plastic and glass sliding across the tiled kitchen floor. Unwilling to get too close to him, but still anxious to clutch the device, she half-crouched in a vain effort to retrieve the phone. Her fingers wiggled, mere inches from her “salvation.” Mason chuckled and shook his head before he fished his cellphone out of his back pocket. He tossed it to her, and like a true alpha mate, her reflexes were so quick she caught it without so much as a fumble.
“In case you didn’t know, the number is 9-1-1.” Mason’s smile widened. “Tell ‘em Mason Blackwood is in your kitchen and you want to be assured the big bad wolf isn’t going to eat you.”
Mason snorted at his own joke because there was nothing he wanted to do more than taste his mate. To lie between her thighs and lick up all her sweet cream. She shot him an unamused glare but mostly ignored him and dialed quickly. He listened to her frantic—and pissed off—explanation of her “emergency” while he plated their food. His wolf drove him to care for her and its first step was making sure she was well fed. The deep rumbling voice on the other end of the phone could only belong to Jasper, a part-time 9-1-1 operator and full-time Blackwood pack wolf.
“Why the hell should I give a shit if he’s a park ranger?” Lucy demanded. At least her anger was directed at someone other than him. “My house isn’t in the fucking forest.”
Mason tried not to grin.
“Trust you?” she yelled into the phone. “I’m supposed to just ‘trust you’ that he’s a good guy? Even though he just broke into my house? Did I misdial and get the Mayor of Crazytown?”
Mason chuckled, and she shot him an irritated glare, which just had him smiling even wider. And why wouldn’t he be happy? He’d found his mate—in the nick of time, too. Now he was caring for her, as was his duty and privilege. In fact, he’d never felt so at peace in his life.
“Are you going to send some cops out here or am I going to have to protect myself with this big-ass knife?”
More rumbling from the phone, which seemed to at least ease Lucy’s fears, if not her anger. While setting the table, Mason made a mental note to give Jasper a bonus. Table as pretty as he could make it, he took the seat opposite the one Lucy had already claimed.
“Thanks for nothing, asshole!”
Lucy jabbed the face of the phone hard and that snarling glare was back on Mason. Her gaze shifted to the food, then Mason again, and back to the food. She took a deep breath and despite her anger, he knew he’d won this round. No one could resist this meaty goodness.