Brody left her sleeping and padded silently downstairs. His wolf wanted to wake her up and go again, and then maybe again, finish the mating, but the man knew better. He had to take care of her first.

In the kitchen, he made two sandwiches from cold chicken in the fridge. He made sure Alison’s had lettuce, tomato, mayo, like she liked it. He wolfed down his own sandwich without bothering, because he was suddenly furiously hungry. Then he poured Alison a glass of milk and carried her sandwich back to the bedroom.

Almost nothing frightened Brody Donovan, but he felt a quick wave of terror when he caught sight of the beautiful woman in his bed. Terror mixed with elation. She was his mate, and she was his—that was the elation. But he had never had anyone close before. Not anyone who mattered. His brothers mattered, but that was blood and pack loyalty. Alison mattered more than anything, and he was completely unequipped to take care of her, make her happy. He couldn’t be sure he could give her what she wanted, because he didn’t even really know. He had a lot to learn, and it was pretty much guaranteed he’d fuck something up. Which meant she could leave him. That was the terror.

She rolled over, waking up slowly. Fix it, his wolf said in his head. Make it right. Get to work. He put the plate with the sandwich and the glass of milk down on the nightstand as she rolled over. She looked at him with sleepy eyes. Her gaze was shy at first, and then she looked him up and down and got that look in her eyes, unfocused with lust. He liked that look. If he’d known that getting naked in front of her would produce that look, he would have done it a long time ago.

He crawled into bed with her and pulled the covers up, curling his chest to her back, rubbing her hip and her belly. “I made you a sandwich,” he said.

She leaned back into him, and he moved her hair off her neck and kissed her there, softly and seriously, as if it was his job. Which it was. “You didn’t have to,” she said.

“Yes, I did.”

“I’ve noticed you tend to feed me,” she said, arching up into his kiss a little.

He kissed her again. “I owe you,” he said. “You’ve been feeding me at the diner for a long time. It only seems right.”

“Oh my,” she said on a sigh.

Brody smiled to himself. He might be stupid, but certain things he could guess. Like the fact that feeding a woman was a good way to impress her. “How do you feel?” he asked her.

“Good,” she said. “A little embarrassed, I guess. I’m not used to you knowing I’m a virgin.”

“You’re not,” he said, stroking a finger over her collarbone.

She smiled a little. “I was,” she said. “It isn’t really normal anymore when you’re twenty-four. You’ve probably been with lots of women.”

“Alison, how long have you known me?” he said. “No. The answer is no.” The few times he’d done it, he’d left town, gone somewhere else, found a bar where no one knew him and picked up a woman. It was so lonely and awful he didn’t even like to think about it. Never again. “It’s fine,” he told her. “If you weren’t, that would be fine. Though I admit I like the fact that there is only me.”

Somewhere on the bedroom floor, his phone beeped. A text. The only ones who ever texted him were his brothers, and since none of them were chatty, it was probably something important. “Hold that thought,” he said to Alison and rolled off the bed, finding his discarded jeans and the phone in the pocket. Behind him, Alison sat up and took a bite of her sandwich.

The text was from Devon. We have a problem. Need to meet. For some reason, he never had a problem reading texts—maybe because they were so short. He didn’t know. But the words never jumbled in a text, and they didn’t jumble now.

Tomorrow, he wrote back to Devon.

Now, Devon said.

Brody typed a single word in answer. Alison.

There was a pause. Devon knew what that meant. He had a mate himself. When a wolf took his mate, he needed time alone with her. No distractions. It was important.

Finally, Devon replied. Tomorrow. But morning.

Brody typed OK and tossed the phone back onto the floor. Truth be told, he hated the phone too, but it seemed necessary if he was to run an entire pack. He couldn’t just hang out at the Dirty Den like his father had. Those days were gone.

He turned back to find that Alison had finished most of her sandwich and all of the milk. She was sitting up, the covers over her nice breasts, watching him. “What’s going on?”

“Meeting tomorrow morning,” he said.

“Why?”

“I have no idea.” He hooked an arm beneath her bent knees and slid her down on the bed so her head was on the pillows. She gave a brief yelp of surprise. “We have around nine hours until sunrise,” he pointed out, climbing over her and pinning her down. “What would you like to do with them?”

She reached around his neck and pulled him down, and he kissed her long and deep, dominating her just enough. He scented the arousal coming off her again, which was what he wanted. They still had things to do.

He broke the kiss and she ran her hands up his back, her fingers tracing his spine, making him shiver. “I want to finish the mating,” she said. “I want to be yours.”

“Are you sure? Mating is intense.” He leaned down and kissed her nipple, and she made a little sound that he liked. “We should practice. A few times.”

Mating, for werewolves, meant that he would take her from behind and bite her during the act, on the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder. It sealed that a wolf and his mate belonged to each other forever. By all accounts—because of course he’d never done it before—it was rough, painful, and very orgasmic. Which sounded good, but not perhaps what a woman wanted when it was only her second time.

“No more waiting,” she said, parting her legs, and he reached down between them and touched her. God, she felt good down there. He’d do this all day if that was what she wanted. He watched her body move, the arch of her back, and his wolf nearly came out of his skin. He was an alpha, and this was his woman. She owned him. If anyone ever touched her, he’d rip them open and taste their blood. All he wanted to do right now was fuck her and feed her until they both grew old and died.

“Brody,” she said after a minute, struggling for control, cupping his face in her hands. “I have to tell you something.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

He paused what he was doing, reluctantly.

“I’m not on the pill.”

“I know,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “You know?”

“I figured it out.”

“You don’t—I mean—it’s okay with you? I should have brought it up, but I—I just wanted—”

He stopped her with a kiss. “It’s fine,” he said, meaning it. “What you want, I want. Now try and relax. This is going to be wild.”