CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Lily hated being jarred from sleep right when she’d just gotten to that delicious cusp of REM, but her reflex was to always answer a ringing phone. She snatched it out from under her pillow, tapped her thumb against the screen, and mustered up a semi-cheerful, “Hello” as she rubbed her eyes.

“Buenos días, mi amor. ¿Te desperté?”

“Oh shit,” Lily said in a panic as she dropped her hand from her face.

Of course, her reflex was to answer. Her body was conditioned to do that because her mother called pretty much at the same time most mornings. If she was at home, she called.

Lily was the one who wasn’t at home, and her mother had her on FaceTime, observing everything that was out of order.

Her mother just smiled at her. For a change, the picture was clear as new glass. Her internet service provider must have been on the ball that morning.

“¿Dónde estás?” She was still smiling as she toyed with the edge of a tortilla. Her breakfast was always the same. Tortillas, a couple of fried eggs, and coffee. Creature of habit, kind of like Lily.

Lily cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ears. The little inset picture on her screen informed her she looked a mess, but that was to be expected. She’d spent half the night warming her bones under a coyote shifter…who was at that moment inching farther and farther away from the camera.

Coward.

“Hablo inglés,” she reminded Lily. “¿Te acuerdas?”

“Oh God, please don’t.”

“Where are you?” her mother asked again, following through on her threat in the language Lance knew.

From the edge of the bed, he cut her an uh-oh look.

Lily cleared her throat again and tried for a light tone. “Well. You know. I’m…in bed. Where’s Antonio?” she asked, hoping to distract the woman. Plus, she really did want to know. He always made those conversations so funny. “I don’t hear him chirping in the background.”

“Putting on his shoes. Getting ready to go. You’re usually up now. Isn’t your horse missing you?”

“Low blow.” The fact that Lily’s horse had self-esteem issues was something of a running gag on the ranch. “I’m sure she’s fine,” Lily said.

“Bueno, si tú lo dices.” Her mother leaned in close and squinted at her screen. “Those aren’t your bed sheets.”

Lily peered at the bedding out of the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t noticed in the dark, but they were gray. She didn’t own gray sheets. Her mother would have noticed because they talked about stuff like thread counts and cotton blends whenever Lily’s favorite department store had a sale on linens.

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mamá.”

“Tell your friend to lean this way a little bit.”

“No.”

“Do it.”

Lance sighed and leaned into the picture.

“Lemme see your teeth.” The woman didn’t miss a beat, but Lily sure did. She didn’t catch the implication of the command until it was too late and Lance bared both rows of them. A person who knew what she was looking for couldn’t miss the elongated canines.

Oh my God.

Her mother blinked in silence for a few beats and then shrugged. “Surprised he’s not a Cougar, knowing who you know.”

“Mamá?” Lily couldn’t have possibly been more confused. Her mother wasn’t supposed to know about shifters.

“Least he got all of them. Floyd’s teeth were a mess. I think his brother managed to land a punch when they were kids.”

Lance’s expression held all the telltale markers of “Who?” so Lily, stunned, whispered, “Uh. My uncle. My cousins’ late father.”

“Oh,” he mouthed.

“I heard you got married. I just wanted to see if it was true,” Mamá said.

“Who told you?” Lily sat up, gave her eyes a more thorough rub, and next massaged the temple that had begun to throb.

“Your father sent me an email. You know he never contacts me except to tell me about the things my daughter has done.” She snorted. “Always my daughter when you’re being hot-blooded, huh? Never emails me about the good things. I get those from Glenda. If I only ever got my news from one person, I’d think you were a delinquent.”

“I appreciate you diversifying your sources.”

Mamá tapped the side of her head. “Never forget who you get your brains from. I gotta go. They doing road construction again and have to get an early start. Can’t be late to work.”

Lily gave her head a clearing shake. Her mother typically moved through life at double-time, but Lily was usually quicker in making sense of her frenetic transitions. “Wait. That’s it?”

Her mother shrugged. “I trust you to make the right choices. I won’t worry unless Glenda does. She ain’t call me yet.”

“Yet,” Lance murmured.

Lily gave him a scolding nudge with her heel under the covers. “So, you know about shifters, then?”

“More than your father, probably. I don’t stick my head in the ground when things seem weird. I try to find out why. Not too hard when you make the right friends.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Didn’t want to start nothing with your father. He didn’t want you to think I condoned it. I don’t care one way or another.”

“Neither do I.”

“Good. So. What’s your name now?” Mamá asked.

“Still the same as it was.”

“Oh? Modern woman, huh?”

Lily let out a stilted laugh. Modernity had nothing to do with it. She’d simply never had the opportunity to file the paperwork. “Yeah. That’s me. So modern.”

“Well then, what’s my new son’s name?”

Lily must have been too slow to respond because Lance sighed and responded, “Lance, ma’am. Aitkenson.”

“You ain’t from there. Ain’t no Aitkensons there.”

“You’re right.”

“Mouthful. What’s your mother’s name? And her phone number. I’ll call her.”

“Mamá!” Lily held the phone just out of Lance’s reach. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was seriously about to give her that information.

“You know I can get it, mija,” her mother said calmly. “Either you give it, he gives it, or I call around during my lunch break. By supper, half the town will have chatted with me. Maybe I’m due to catch up with them, anyway.”

Lance snatched the phone and said, “Do you have a pen? I’ll give you her number. Just give me a few minutes to let her know to expect your call.”

And so he could tell her that her little boy had taken a bride, most likely.

Belly souring, Lily dragged a hand down her face.

What a mess.

Her mother held up her favorite ballpoint demonstrably and clicked the plunger.

“Cheryl Aitkenson.” He gave her the number.

Mamá grunted with satisfaction, blew them a kiss, and disconnected.

Lily glowered at him.

“Pick your battles,” he said. “And that didn’t need to be one.”

“Oh yeah? So you’re going to go tell your mother about our arrangement now, then?”

His expression was epically peaceful as he snatched his phone off the nightstand, punched in some numbers, and strode naked toward the hallway.

She crawled as far as the end of the bed, following him.

She could hear his muffled voice, probably through the closed bathroom door. He didn’t sound especially agitated, but that may have been wishful thinking on her part. She needed some things to fall easily into place so she didn’t have to be so scared about it. Their marriage may have been precipitous, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make something beautiful.

Far too curious to stay back, she scooped up his shirt from the floor and pulled it on. He was on his way out of the bathroom when she approached, phone still to ear, eyebrow inching upward at her borrowed attire.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” He disconnected.

She cleared her throat. “Well?”

“See how easy that was? Unlike you, I don’t tap-dance around the truth when I intend to tell it.”

“I don’t tap-dance at all. That’s never been one of my styles.”

He snorted. “Well, you just earned yourself a one-on-one chat with my mother.”

The blood in her head took an instantaneous detour southward and left her listing.

Lily Baxter didn’t do the “meet the parents” thing. Never had.

“Whatever,” she said.

“You’ll see.”

“You didn’t.”

He shrugged. “When she disconnected, she was already getting a call waiting beep. Must have been your mother calling on her way to work.”

Lily smoothed her hands over her hair nervously. She’d never been forced to actually interact with her boyfriends’ parents in any significant sort of way before. If she ever got far enough into a relationship that they’d asked, she’d made an excuse to beg off. She’d reasoned that if she met their parents, they’d want to meet hers, and she didn’t see anything good coming of that.

But Lance wasn’t exactly a boyfriend.

“The expression you’re making right now is the ‘there’s been a huge mistake’ one,” Lance said.

“You need to get better at reading my faces, then.”

“Oh?” He pressed a hand to the wall at either side of her face and stole her space, smiling at her. A disconcerting sight given his expressions tended to skew heavily toward snarls and scowls. The smile made him look even more dangerous. That should have panicked her.

Should have, but didn’t.

“Since we’re up…” His gaze flitted downward for a brief pause. Of course, she looked down, too.

As he was naked, there was no disguising how he thought they could be efficiently using their time. And as she’d apparently run out of shame, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at his protruding erection. There wasn’t much light in the hallway, but enough to appreciate what she was starting to consider her favorite wedding gift.

“You’re lucky the passage is so narrow through here.”

“Hmm?” She was still staring. Pawing at him, actually. She wasn’t entirely sure when her hands had decided to take control of the situation.

“Yeah. Can’t hitch you up against the wall when the mood strikes.”

She cleared her throat. “Like right now?”

“Yeah. Like right now.”

“Walls are farther apart in the bedroom.”

“Are they?”

Apparently, he wanted to confirm that assertion. He scooped her up and carried her into the room, looking this way and that. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” He tossed his phone onto the bed, opened the drawer, and took out what he needed.

He ripped open a condom with his teeth and somehow managed to unroll it onto his cock without unhanding her.

All at once she was disgusted by his efficiency and strangely proud of it.

“I was going to put a safe here,” he commented as he put her back against the wall near the headboard. “But I think the space might have better uses.”

“I’m flexible. I can make any space work.” And that one was fine. She didn’t even care if the curtains weren’t all the way closed and that if the utility meter reading guy chose that moment to walk into the yard, he’d get a scandalous eyeful. Another thing for her father to catch wind of and email her mother about.

She took the lube from him and reached beneath her thigh to slick it down his shaft. He was nuzzling her neck all the while, scoring his beard over the ticklish flesh at the bend of her shoulder, mock biting with his lips.

“The smell of you in my clothes is… Fuck.” Whatever thought was he was trying to articulate, he couldn’t finish. She’d dug her knees into his sides and was pulling her into him. After all, that was why they were there.

A sigh fell out of her as she slid him home. “The smell is what?” she murmured. Her arms tightened around his neck, and her head fell back. When he started to work himself in and out of her, her body wouldn’t let her breathe. She may have bitten off more than she could chew.

“Don’t…know how to describe it.” He hitched her up higher to improve his angle and spread his legs farther.

She did everything she could just to hold on. Arousal made her bold, but gravity made her cautious.

But she remembered then that Lance wasn’t a run-of-the-mill human man. His muscles didn’t come from spending countless hours doing reps in the gym. He wasn’t going to get tired of holding her up for a couple of minutes. He didn’t seem to be struggling at all. In fact, she was the only one breaking a sweat.

“Nice being able to remember it,” he whispered into her hair.

Deeper. Deeper.

“I love knowing you remember it and want more of it,” she whispered back.

She hooked her feet together around his back and helped him find a rhythm again. He wanted to tease. She wanted to get off and she was the kind of woman who’d rather take matters into her own hands than comply with a whimper.

“Asking for no reason…” she said through clenched teeth. He was giving her exactly what she wanted—long, deep strokes. She was so full that her eyes watered and hips burned, but it was the kind of pain she knew would soon be chased away by pleasure. “Do you plan on calling me a black widow again after this? Because if you are—”

“You’ll what?”

She had no idea, really. It was hard to think when he was attaching himself to her on so many fronts. His tongue in her mouth, quelling hers into submission and stealing her words. His fingers notching possessively into her flesh. His cock so deep.

“I’d like to hear that threat, shortcake.”

“L-later.”

“Okay.” He paused for a moment, long enough to playfully nip at her earlobe. “I’ll remind you if you forget.”

She doubted that either of them would ever forget anything ever again.

As her core started to spasm and muscles clench involuntarily, she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and let him have his way for as long as he needed it. She’d already gotten what she wanted and her body sang out at the explosion of pleasure. The rest was all for him.

“Take it,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Yeah?”

She could hardly nod. She was boneless, muscles weakened from the exertion of holding on.

He surged into her with more force, murmuring something she couldn’t make out, petting her hair as he thrust. Never forgetting that she was a whole woman. Not forgetting that she had lips that still needed kissing and hands to keep tamed behind his neck.

“Is this for real?” she thought she heard. She couldn’t be sure of what he said over the sounds of her breathing.

“Are you really mine?”

That, she heard. That, she could answer.

“Yes. Yours.”

“Tell me again so I know for sure. That’s what you want?”

She held back her answer until he’d found his completion and gently set her on the edge of the bed, wiping sweat from his brow.

His gaze was earnest and forthright. “Well?”

She swallowed. Wrung her hands. Stewed in the awkwardness of having to make the sort of declaration she never had before.

She’d been saving it for Lance.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” She’d never been more certain of anything—not even dance. Lance may have been the one thing she couldn’t be talked out of.

“You say that now, but maybe you’ll change your mind when you get fed up.”

“Fed up with what? The Coyote shit?” She let out a little snort and notched her sweaty hair behind her ears. “I’ve been wading on the shore of that my whole life.”

“No. With me. I’m overbearing, Lily, and that might get worse. I’m a dog. I protect my things, and you’re my thing.” He grimaced. “My person.”

“Your mate.”

His stare was a thousand yards away and he seemed to not have heard. That awkwardness came rushing back and Lily was about to open her mouth to soften the accusation somehow, but he nodded, barely moving his head. “Yeah. You are.”

“There are worse things than to be married to your mate, aren’t there?”

“I dunno. I can’t help but to feel like you’re going to break—that I’m going to break you.”

“I’m not that fragile.”

“The bruises on your ass from my fingers digging in signal otherwise.”

“I’ve had worse. What good is all that padding if I can’t put it to good use when the mood strikes?”

The flatness in his expression made her bark with laughter. He was evolving. He hadn’t asked for the names of the men he could maim at his earliest convenience.

“I can take whatever you dish out,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck. “And I want to. Are you bossy and overprotective? Yes, and I hated that when I was a kid. I wanted to be free to do my own thing, but this is different. What I want matters, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said indignantly. “Of course it does.”

“Well, what I want is for you to learn me. Understand me. Protect me. Be with me, Lance. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but I want you.”

“Gods, Lily, I want you, too. You have no idea how much. But I feel like I should be saving you from yourself.”

“I’ll decide for myself when I need to be saved. I’m a big girl and I’ve almost always made good decisions, even when the men around me haven’t agreed.”

He grimaced at that. She was glad if it meant he’d taken the barb personally. She wanted it to sink in. Wanted him to understand how he was wrong.

She kissed his nose. “Let me worry about what I can handle, okay? If I can walk out of the hospital after the day after getting two bags of blood and contemplate going back to work, I can certainly handle the occasional passion wound.” She smirked.

Apparently, he didn’t find what she’d said so funny. Enlarging pupils nearly took over the blue in his eyes. Red flooded his neck and cheeks. His Adam’s apple convulsed. “When…” He cleared his throat. Swallowed again. Straightened up and rubbed his palm roughly over his beard. “When’d you get two bags of blood?”

“The day before I called you about the miscarriage.”

“You didn’t tell me about that.”

“I didn’t see where the details would make any difference. My body was confused. It overcompensated when it was supposed to go back to normal. I was well taken care of.”

“At your height and weight, two pints of blood means you could have died.”

“Perhaps that would have been true if I hadn’t sought immediate treatment. I’m over it. You should be, too.”

He scoffed and stormed to the foot of the bed. He found his sweatpants and stepped forcefully into them. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just now wrapped my head around the idea that maybe we could have kids together, and now this? You didn’t tell me that something I did to you could have killed you, and now I’m supposed to be la-di-dah about it? That’s why you’ve been so cold, isn’t it? You’re anemic as hell.”

Lily threw up her hands. “Lance, it could have been anyone. It wasn’t your fault. Nature just wasn’t on our side that time. Next time will probably be fine. I’m willing to take the risk.”

“Next time? There’s not going to be a next time. Are you kidding me? You think I’m going to put myself through that? I’m not. I watched my mother break a little more with each failure, and I’m not interested in watching history repeat. If that’s what you want…” He raised his shoulders up in a violent shrug and grabbed a shirt. “Take that to mean what you will.”

Lily took a deep breath and let it out before even thinking of how she’d respond. He was lashing out from a personal place, but she didn’t have to do the same. She’d had her chance to work through the trauma. Perhaps he just needed time.

“Lance, I—”

“What is that?” His head turned toward the front of the house and he made a slashing, silencing gesture that made her snarl.

“I don’t hear anything, and I’m not entirely sure you do, either. Honestly, I think that’s a pretty weak excuse to bounce from a serious conver—”

“There it is again. I know what I heard.”

She gritted her teeth and glowered censoriously, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t see. He’d already retreated into the hallway, his footsteps echoing from farther and farther away.

She didn’t see the point of sitting there half-naked waiting for them to resume their argument so she set about looking for her clothes as Lance unlatched the door. Her jeans had somehow gotten kicked under the bed.

“What the hell?” Lance murmured.

She was about to roll her eyes again when she heard the distinctive patter of dog nails on the hardwood.

Figuring he’d let in a member of the Coyote pack, she kept rooting around in search of her garments. Her bra was in the crevice between the bed and dresser. She had no idea where she’d taken off her socks. Hoping she’d had a moment of brilliance and had stuffed them into her shoes, she backed away from the bed on all-fours and turned ninety degrees toward the door.

And a dog.

A familiar, dopey-looking dog that should have been in T or C, or at least wherever his owners were hawking their wares.

French Fry plopped his haunches down onto the edge of the rug and unfurled his tongue to pant. Then he watched Lily watch him.

“What. The. Hell?”

“That’s what I said,” Lance said on return. “I didn’t see anyone out there, or the Jaguars’ van nearby, but I’m going to drive around and see if they didn’t figure out some way to trail us.”

Lily sat up in a panic as it dawned on her why they hadn’t wanted those women to follow them back to Maria. Lola was there and she didn’t want to be found. “You think they brought French Fry over as a calling card?”

“Who can tell with them?”

French Fry trotted past Lance and straight for the front door.

Lily hurried to squeeze into her jeans to follow, but Lance left the room and closed the door resoundingly.

She snarled at him. “If you’re thinking of leaving me here—”

She heard the jangle of keys and then the slam of the front door as she hurried to the window.

He was in his truck and peeling off before she could get the swivel rod on the blinds fully rotated.

“Ugh!”

As soon as she got her bra properly fastened, she picked up her phone, thinking she’d preempt Lance by calling Blue. But then she remembered she had an advantage. She had an “in” with the Cougars and she wore La Bella Dama’s mark. She was going to go right to the source. Later, she and her husband could argue about their apparent inability to problem-solve as a team, but for the time being, she was going to teach him a lesson.

Her input mattered. She was his mate—he’d admitted it.

And perhaps that was why she didn’t mind being the one to bring him down a few pegs.