Red and Her Wolf (Kingdom, #3)

“You’re a masochist. You would pledge your life to a woman who might never be able to touch you, or do the things for you a mate should.”


He leaned in, full lips a feather’s kiss from hers, irises narrowing to twin slits for a second. She went still, prey in the predator’s sight. But it wasn’t fear that rolled through her, it was desire. A yearning so intense she licked her lips.

“But I doona think, it’ll come to that. Ye want me, Red. I smell yer desire all over ye. It’s hot and potent and the wolf is hungry.”

She hadn’t realized she’d begun to lean forward until she almost fell when he pulled back.

He laughed and then standing, held his hand out to her. “Come with me.”

Sweat trickled down her back, her neck. Violet was terrified to touch him, terrified because she feared if she did, she’d pull him on top of her and beg him to do things no man had ever done to her before.

“Where?”

“Yer hot, the Hatter is fond of his springs.”

“A midnight swim?” She lifted a brow. “With you? Alone?”

“Aye. Aye. And aye.”

He didn’t give her a moment to think about it, latching onto her wrist, he yanked her off the bed. Within seconds they were down the hall, in the living room, and then exiting the front door. Violet glanced over her shoulder.

“Won’t they know?” she whispered.

“Doona care.” He marched briskly toward the pond she’d noticed earlier.

Heart racing, pulse thrilling at the thought of swimming with him beneath a large moon and no one else about, she almost skipped along. Then they were there and he was already naked and she knew he expected her to strip in front of him. She stared at the dark, burbling water. Fireflies twirled along the water, their lighted golden dance moving in perfect synchronization. Cattails swayed, and it all looked so magical, too beautiful for words.

It was pretty perfect.

“You shouldn’t look,” she said, cold fingertips under the band of her jeans as the anxiety riddled her gut, twisting it up in knots.

White teeth flashed. “Doona take long.”

Then he dived into the center, a graceful arc that cut clean through the water, barely causing a ripple.

Violet kicked her shoes off and quickly shucked her jeans off next. Not sure how long he’d stay under; she stripped her shirt, bra, and underwear off. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. Hadn’t she only been thinking mere minutes ago about the possibility of never being able to let go of the past?

But the thoughts were fleeting, she jumped in, bracing for the cold. Shocked when it wasn’t. It was a hot spring, the bubbles were everywhere, tickling every inch of her bare body. Violet bobbed along the surface, turning and frowning when he didn’t resurface.

Then a strong hand grabbed her ankle and yanked, she smiled as she slipped under for a second. Reveling in the warmth, but it didn’t last. Within seconds she bobbed back up to the surface. She could never stay under long. But then his hands began a slow slide up her calf, her thighs, and the chill of the breeze was again replaced with heat. He moved so gently and expertly, that she couldn’t stop the moan or the wash of goose bumps tracking her skin.

Something soft brushed her navel, and she was almost positive it was his lips. Her stomach flopped to her knees as he finally broke through the surface. Her hands brushed along his smooth broad chest and she gripped onto his biceps, latching her nails like daggers into the muscle. He didn’t wince or flinch. The water ran in rivulets from his hair down his face, full pink lips parted and she bit her own, even while her tongue danced behind her mouth.

“The Hatter’s waters are magical. Ye can breathe below. I tried to bring ye down to see his treasures, but ye bob, Red.”

She nodded. “I know. I can’t sink. I’ve tried.” Violet continued to worry her bottom lip, she never talked about this with anyone, wasn’t sure she should trust him. But she wanted to. She took a deep breath. “I’ve got bad blood.”

Large hands framed her face.

“No, it’s true.” She grabbed onto his wrists, reveling in the texture of callused thumbs running softly along her cheeks. “I always wondered why. It’s not normal. My Aunt can sink. Even Grandma could. But not me. Then I read about the Salem Witch Trials.”

“Och, lass.”

She shrugged out of his grip and bobbed backwards, feeling exposed and unsure. “That’s how they tested if you were a witch.”

“It was a failed experiment, Red.” His black hair glistened, and her fingers twitched.

She loved touching soft things, wanted to touch him. But she felt vulnerable and that made her angry. “Because they weren’t witches!”

“Nor are ye, Red.” His eyes were kind.

“I’m something. I have dreams, horrible dreams.”

Violet wrapped her arms around herself. The night was far from chilly, especially in the warm waters, but she couldn’t stop her teeth from clacking.