CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Riktor drew in a deep breath. Her heady perfume surrounded him. He shut his eyes and focused on his heartbeat. The steady rhythm centered him but couldn’t shake off the cloak of need that brushed over his skin. The taste of musk filled his mouth and rushed over his taste buds. Her heartbeat thudded a steady rhythm in his head. He became aware of how in sync they were. He noticed that he drew in a breath when she did and exhaled at the same time.

Her breath wafted against his neck. The soft touch raised goose bumps. His heart jumped. He let out a gasp and shivered. He curled his hands into fists—clenching and relaxing his hold. Tension sang along his muscles, caressed his tendons and shivered along his limbs. Fire lapped in his veins. Sensation rang in his bones.

Her body heat permeated his clothing to seep deep into his skin, muscles, sinew, organs down into his soul. She didn’t even touch him, and yet her presence enveloped him in a cocoon which blocked out everything around him.

His wolf whined and scratched at their barrier. The silver tattoo wrapped around his bicep burned, the heat crawled up and down his arm and rolled around his chest and flooded his abdomen.

Every instinct in him wanted to move closer to the warmth and sweet musk. He wanted to feel her womanly curves against him once more, yet the more rational man yearned to take a step back—cede some ground to her—and save his control from breaking.

“Riktor?” she whispered, her voice a sandpaper-roughened whisper that sang throughout his body.

He felt like a tuning fork that had been pinged—so attuned to her.

The alpha in him didn’t want to give her anything. His wolf snarled at the thought of pulling away from this mysterious woman. Threat or no, he couldn’t just hand over control or acknowledge that she affected him.

He turned around—his arm and hip brushed against her, increasing the blaze in his flesh. Rather than focus on her effect on him, he focused on her face—her full lips, broad nose, dark, almond-shaped eyes. He hungered to kiss off her lipstick. Riktor needed to see her face, neck, and chest flushed, and her naked skin misted with sweat. He wanted his scent embedded deep into her pores until she smelled of him.

His wolf’s desire to mark her so that all werewolves would know who she belonged to flooded his soul until the wolf’s yearning became the man’s. He licked his lips but made no move to act on his instincts.

She sank back down until her head reached his chest.

Their height difference made him want to wrap her in his arms and never let go. Despite the fierceness and confidence in her eyes, there was a hint of vulnerability. She tried to hide it, but she didn’t turn away from him.

He reached up and cupped her face. “What are you doing to me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You want me, and you know it. Admit. Give in.”

She cut off any response and pressed her mouth to his. They didn’t move. Right there, in the middle of the hallway, they stood there not moving. He didn’t remove his hand from her face nor did she reach up to clutch him or hold him in place.

Electricity danced over his lips and sparked in his mouth, pinged down his throat to roll around his body, lighting fires all over until he became engulfed in a firestorm. Pain and pleasure flickered off and on. A partial shift grabbed him by the groin. His fingers thickened and lengthened while his nails grew and sharpened to claws. His muscles contracted and thickened. Blood hunger hummed through his body. He wanted to bite, mark and lap up her blood and howl his satisfaction to all around them. The pain ebbed away only to leave behind a drunken stupor that dulled his control.

He lifted his free arm and wrapped it around her waist—hauling her closer until there was no space between them. He moved his lips over hers in a biting kiss that drew the metallic-tinged taste he desired. He lapped it up and repeated the action until she pawed at his arms. Her nails ripped at the sleeves of his jacket. His lungs ached and burned. His head swam.

Her teeth sank into his lips and drew blood. He roared and jerked his head away but didn’t feel anger. If anything, his desire for her reached new levels.

The wolf surged upward, its energy, thoughts, instincts enveloped him in human form. Their mutual desires, needs all became one. A single impulse to claim Michaela Shaw, body and soul, in all ways possible. The world faded away, narrowed to a ribbon connecting him to his fellow alpha. To his mate.

His purposes in life rearranged themselves to include Michaela in it.

He pined for her, despite her being right there and kissing him. His thirst for her redefined the word for him. She became his liquid life that laced through his blood. An inferno branded his insides. It wrote her name into the very depths of his being.

The words mate and bind rolled around his head on repeat.

He had to do something to bind her to him, forever. Nothing could allow them to be parted. Nothing. His wolf refused to let that happen.

The rest of the night became a haze. He lost track of everything around them except for her. The impulse to tie her to him grew until it became a second skin, supplanting his human side and his wolf part. His survival became contingent on having her in his life, by his side. He would do everything in his power to make that happen.

Sometime during the night, they left the resort, Michaela right by his side. His private driver took them back to the main resort where they ate. What meals they had, he didn’t know. The only thing he could say about the food was it contained meat, and they had an excellent wine.

Throughout it all, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. His sole focus on her. He watched the emotions play on her face. When she laughed, her face lit up. Her smile sparkled in her eyes. Riktor wanted to see those looks every day, all day, for the rest of his life. Nothing else would do. His wolf yearned to keep her on the island, forever and always.

Their server cleared their dessert dishes away and placed delicate cups of coffee in front of them with a smile and left. The rest of the restaurant was now empty. A silvery moon, nearly full, hung in a sky full of spilled diamonds. Candlelight danced in the light breeze from the air conditioning. There could be nothing more romantic.

Riktor leaned forward. “Marry me.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious right now? We just met, made out, and you gave me a tour of your BDSM playground, and then we ate dinner,” she teased. “Does this mean this is our first date?” she teased.

“Yes. And I ask again, marry me.” He watched emotions play across her beautiful face, lit up by a golden glow. Her eyes flashed amber. The she-wolf peeked out and watched him.

“You’re not lying, I can sense that.” She settled back into her chair. “If I say yes, will you go through with it?”

Everything inside of him screamed that he would do it. He needed to. His very survival depended on it. She was his mate. Now that he’d accepted that fact, it had opened a floodgate inside him. Every part of him demanded she belong to him forever. “Yes.”

She stared at him. “Fine, get me a priest.” She crossed her arms, pushing up her breasts in the process and showing off more cleavage. His desire grew hotter. The atmosphere thinned around them, and the dining room grew smaller.

He downed his coffee in one gulp, pushed back his chair and stood. “I know of a priest here on the island. His goddaughter is getting married here. He was the one who baptized my brothers and me. Shall we?”

The wolf howled its approval in his head. Mate. Bind. The words continued on a loop in his head, only louder now. More insistent and coming faster and faster with each second that went by until the words merged into one.

“We shall.”

The urge tightened around him.

She came around the table and grabbed his hand. “Let’s.”

The world fuzzed and narrowed until it became a pinprick of focus. His need to tie them together flexed in his body. His every breath turned into one that included her pheromones and perfume.

He didn’t stop to think about what he was feeling. He gave in to the primal urge ripping through him, the need that could only be satisfied by Michaela. He found the priest and convinced him of their desire to be wed. It took longer to sort out the details and choose rings from the resort’s jewelry store. After everything was arranged, the ceremony took less than ten minutes. Once the matching gold bands encircled their fingers, something inside him broke loose. He let out a long, loud howl, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to the elevator. He would have her. Now.

“Now we fuck and seal the circle,” he growled as he pushed her against the wall of the elevator. Riktor ripped at her clothing.

She returned the favor. Buttons, scraps of silk flew everywhere. Mickey tore at his belt and freed his cock. He lifted one of her legs, aligned their bodies, and sank into her, balls deep. His brain drew a blank. He fell into the abyss of pleasure that her pussy, wrapped around his cock, offered him.

He continued to thrust, reaching for that mindless moment of pure bliss.

She bit and scratched his back, shoulders, and arms, marring his skin and marking him as her own.

“Mine,” he growled.

“Mine,” she echoed.

“Forever,” the wolf whispered.