Sleeping With the Wolf (8 page)

He looked down and passed a hand over his flat belly, probing cautiously at the wound there. “Still pretty sore. The sleep helped, but not enough so I can make love to you tonight.”

“Oh, goo—I mean, we need to be careful.”

He looked disappointed. “You know I won’t force you, right?”

“Yes.” And she did. He wouldn’t need to anyway. This morning Pete had opened her eyes to what kind of mate she could have had. And Taye was trying to make her happy.

Or at least comfortable. She could bear it. Maybe even enjoy it. Someday. “Do you mind if I pull my chair in front of the stove?”

“I’ll do it.”

“You’re hurt. I’ll do it.”

“You’re awfully stubborn, mate,” he observed, pulling his own chair next to hers in front of the stove.

She plopped down. “It came in handy while building a music career,” she huffed.

“You sang and played music to earn money?” Taye guessed.

“Yes, and I was getting pretty popular at it too. I was in Minneapolis for a show, and then I got on the plane to go to Denver to sing for a crowd of fifty thousand people.

That’s where I was going when … I guess my career is over now.”

*

Career was like a foreign word to Taye. Men did what they could these days. Their wives and families helped them. Farmers grew the grain that Dane Overdahl’s mill ground into flour. Other farmers raised milk cows and made cheese and butter for trade.

Ranchers raised cattle for meat and sheep for wool and horses for riding and pulling wagons. The mill west of town bought wool fleeces and spun the wool into thread to weave fabric for clothing and other needs. He and his pack hunted meat and tanned hides that they traded for what they needed. A couple of times a year the traveling traders came through Kearney to sell outrageously expensive goods that couldn’t be locally produced.

Boats came up the Platte River to sell things too. They also passed along news, carried mail, and sometimes allowed other travelers to join them for protection. Some of the traders also told stories and performed music, and the listeners would thank them by buying meals and providing places for them to sleep. It was hard to imagine a woman going from place to place to sing, especially one who didn’t have a husband and family to protect her. How could she keep herself safe? The Times Before were as strange to him as the world of a science fiction novel would be to her.

She looked very sad right now, almost tearful. He couldn’t bear that, so he reached and gripped her hand. “Sweetheart, you never answered me. Do you think I’m ugly?”

She squirmed in her chair but didn’t jerk her hand away. “No. I said you are handsome.”

“Did I frighten you when I kissed you?”

“No.”

“But you were sorry. You said so.”

Her eyes flashed over to his face for a moment before dropping again. “I was sorry. I
am
sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was an accident.”

“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

Taye held his breath when she looked at him again. Her eyes gleamed with tears. She was so beautiful. He reached his free hand to touch her cheek where the tear would fall.

He waited for it, but she tilted her head up and blinked, somehow managing to force the tears back. Awfully stubborn. He found he admired stubborn women.

“When I grabbed your shoulder. When we were kissing. I grabbed you where you were injured by Pete. I hurt you. But I didn’t mean to.”

“That?” Taye smothered a relieved laugh. “That barely hurt at all. It’s a good thing it happened, though.”

Now she did jerk her hand away, and he let her.

“Sweetheart, I was ready to forget that I promised to not force you. Another minute and I would have … I would have… ” He flicked his fingers at her blouse. “Those are the only clothes you have, right? Well, another minute of kissing you, and they would have been rags because I wouldn’t have been too careful taking them off you.”

Her mouth and eyes were wide. Her hands clenched around the edges of her blouse, holding them together as if he was about to tear it off her right now. “Taye, don’t you dare wreck my clothes!”

Excitement was driving his blood frantically through him, and he wasn’t even touching her! She was challenging him, and his nature demanded he dominate her. In an effort to calm himself he smiled teasingly. “You humans are entirely too attached to your clothes. I’ll get you more.”

“Good,” she said sharply. “These are getting rank. I’ve got dried blood on them. And this is the second day straight I’ve worn these pantie—these clothes. I need to wash them.”

“Every time I tear something I’ll replace it,” he promised with a grin. “What’s a pantie?”

Carla glared. “Very funny! As if you don’t know.”

Taye shrugged his one uninjured shoulder. He really didn’t know. Clothes weren’t important to wolves, and women’s clothes were just plain foreign. From her reaction a pantie must be an intimate garment. He examined her with interest, wondering what she wore under the blouse and jeans. She released her grip on her blouse, and the glare softened, but only slightly.

“Honestly, Taye, I can’t wear the same clothes every day.”

“I have a couple T-shirts and more pants,” he offered. “But now that we have the stove, isn’t warm enough for—”

“No!” she shouted. “Good lord, Taye, you’re making me crazy!”

He wondered what the Pack thought of her shout. “Sweetheart, I can hear you just fine. You can wash your clothes in the bathtub tonight and wrap up in the blanket while your clothes dry.”

“It will take longer than a couple hours for my clothes to dry. It would be better for me to have a couple changes of clothes,” she pointed out more calmly.

“All right. I’ll send some of the boys to pick up a few things for you.”

Her eyes were disbelieving. “If you think I’ll let some strange guys—wolves—pick out my clothes—” She snorted. “Uh-uh. No way.”

“All right,” he said again, mildly. “In a few days when I’m feeling better we’ll go into Kearney and get you some things. For tonight, if you insist on wearing clothes to bed, you can wear one of my T-shirts and a pair of shorts. But under the covers you’ll be warm. You won’t need clothes.”

“Taye.” Somehow she turned his name into three agonized syllables. He liked it.

“I’m not ready for that yet, okay? I need to wear something to bed. So do you. Please.”

He slanted a feral smile at her. “Not yet? But someday?”

She sighed, looking torn between fear and embarrassment. “Do I really have a choice? I mean, I know you said you would wait ’til I’m ready—”

“I will wait,” he cut her off, his voice emphatic. “I won’t force you.” His voice dropped into a wolf’s growl. “But I’ll do what I can to tempt you. I won’t hurt you. Ever.

You’re my mate. I want you to scream my name when I’m inside you. With pleasure, not hate, not pain.”

She stared, helplessly transfixed by the way his eyes shimmered wolf-gold as they caressed her. “Oh,” she breathed. She tingled between her legs, and she saw his nostrils flare as he inhaled. Boy, did she need a clean pair of panties. And a cold shower.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned. His hands clenched the arms of his chair, knuckles showing white. ”I love the way you smell. I’m not well enough to do much, but I want to taste you. Slip off your pants. Let me touch you.”

Carla tried to control her breathing. He was tempting, and she was aroused by just his words. He hadn’t even touched her and she was wet. “No, Taye. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m hurting now.”

“I don’t think touching me will make you hurt less. Maybe a cold shower will help.”

He leaned his head back with his eyes clenched shut. “Please, sweetheart. Please. Let me touch you. I’ll stop when you want.”

The Alpha who killed men and commanded a pack of werewolves sounded just like a high school boy trying to sweet talk his date into the back of his pickup. She hesitantly undid her belt buckle. She was stuck here in this future world, and she belonged to Taye.

So far he had treated her as well as he could. It was inevitable that they would have sex someday. Wasn’t it better to ease into it? A little kissing here, a little petting there, before having full-out sex?

She undid the button of her jeans and slid a look at Taye. His head still leaned back against his chair, but his eyes watched her fingers hungrily.

“Don’t look!” she said involuntarily.

He closed his eyes. “Come here, then, so I can feel you.”

When Carla stood up and turned so she was facing him, his arm snaked out and looped around her waist. He kept his eyes closed when he dragged her closer. She had to stand so his knee was between her legs. Her breasts were just at the level of his face. His free hand came up to caress them through her shirt. With his arm around her waist he made her sit on his knee. He inhaled gently against her throat and groaned.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she said sharply.

His eyes burned into hers. “I feel no pain. Take off your shirt.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to look at me.”

“Only the Lupa can deny the Alpha and get away with it.” Taye made a production of closing his eyes. “I’ll let you get away with it if you will let me touch you where ever I want.”

Carla thought about it. “Okay.”

“Stand up,” he ordered huskily. When she had obeyed his hands stroked over her breasts and down to her thighs, then searched for her zipper. He pulled it down and his fingers wandered over the elastic of her panties’ waistband. The muscles in her lower belly clenched in anticipation, but he moved back up, sliding his hands under her blouse to cup her breasts through her bra.

“Kiss me, mate,” he murmured.

She did, leaning over and putting her hands on the arms of his chair to brace herself away from his wounds. Somewhere in the middle of his hot, drugging kisses his hands left her breasts and slid inside her jeans. He petted the silk of her panties and learned the shape of her hips and mound. She felt like a new frontier that he was exploring in excruciating detail. She shoved her jeans down her hips to give his large hands more room. His hand moved purposefully into her panties, navigating through soft pubic hair to her slit. He stroked and petted while she bit her lip to control her breathing.

“You’re wet.” His growl sounded delighted. “You want me.”

For answer she pushed her jeans further down and raised one knee to prop her foot on the edge of his chair. “Keep your eyes closed,” she commanded.

“They’re closed, sweetheart, but I don’t like orders. Remember that.”

“Whatever,” she said impatiently, wiggling her hips so one of his fingers slipped a fraction of an inch inside her. “Oh!”

Taye sniffed audibly. “You like that. You want more?”

“Uh-huh.”

He pushed one finger deep inside her, then took his fingers away to slide one in his mouth. “I like the way you taste.”

“Are you going to just tease me?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m going to give you everything you want. Hold onto my shoulder and let me know what you like.”

She liked everything he did to her. Each time his finger went deep the heel of his hand brushed over her clitoris. She gripped his uninjured shoulder hard and urged him on with little gasps until her orgasm flooded her. Her legs turned to rubber and she collapsed on to his knee with her forehead pressed to his chest. As her pleasure waned, her embarrassment grew. Taye removed his hand from between her legs and licked his finger clean.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?”

“Fine. Um, did I hurt you?”

“No. Can I open my eyes now?”

“Just a sec.” She forced her wet-noodle legs to hold her weight and pulled her jeans back up and fastened them. “Okay.”

He looked hard at her face. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you like that?”

Carla stared at his shoulder. The finger marks from where she had held onto him were fading. “Well, yeah. That’s the problem. I hardly know you, and I let you do that to me.”

“I’m your mate,” he said simply. “There’s nothing wrong with what we did.”

Carla supposed not. She had certainly enjoyed herself. They were married. Or the wolf Pack equivalent of married. Still, it felt wrong. The front of his sweatpants showed that he had not enjoyed himself quite as much as she had. Maybe she should…?

“Nah,” said Taye, reading her mind, or at least the direction of her gaze. “I’m good. I can wait a while until you’re willing to go the whole distance. Shouldn’t be too long, I hope?”

“You’re still hurt,” she pointed out shakily. “We’ll talk about it later. I have to wash my clothes, and I need a shower.”

“The water will be ice cold,” Taye warned.

“Good.”

*

When Carla had gotten off his knee and collected some of his clothes and retreated to the bathroom, Taye got up and went to the door of their room. As he expected, the hallway was full of young wolves sniffing the air appreciatively. Taye folded his arms over his bare chest and said mildly, “The Lupa wouldn’t like it if she knew we’d had an audience.”

Sky and the other young wolves looked abashed.

“And I don’t like it either,” Taye continued, still mild, but with a growl edging the words.

Abashment turned to fear. The pups quickly exposed their throats.

“Go to bed.”

They scurried down the hall. Satisfied that his Pack still held him in proper awe, Taye went back into his room.

Later that evening, after Carla had washed her clothes in the tub and hung them over the shower rail, she put on the longest of his T-shirts and smallest of his cut-off shorts and crawled into bed. She fell asleep quickly in spite of the long nap they had taken earlier. He went into the bathroom and examined the clothing hanging on the rail. He recognized the blouse, jeans, and socks, but the other two items were strange. They looked flimsy. The fabric was bright pink, soft and slippery, edged with lace. These then, must be her pantie. He had petted them tonight while caressing his mate. Their shape allowed him to guess how she would wear them. He hoped that someday soon she would model them for him. He liked the idea of her wearing them and nothing else while he …

Already aching with longing, he cut that mental image off. His shower was ice cold but didn’t force his erection to retreat. He used his own hand in a brisk business-like manner to ease himself. To imagine it was Carla’s hand would be like cheating.