Chapter Nine

 

Sedona

 

I step in yet another puddle and rain water soaks my shoes and socks. It’s rained all day and I’m not as excited as I expected to be walking along Montemartre tracing the steps of Picasso, Renoir, and Degas.

I don’t even know how much of Paris I took in as I wandered the streets today. My chest aches like someone punched me. A few Frenchmen give me odd looks, and I realize my wolf is whining. The only time she’s happy is when I think of Carlos—or fall asleep and dream of him.

This is Stockholm Syndrome. Right?

I stop at a sidewalk cafe to get some dinner and sink into a seat protected by a wide blue awning. Water pours from the edges, splashing my legs and gathering in little pools beside my table.

When rain comes in Tucson, we celebrate because the desert is always thirsty, but today it just depresses me. I stare unseeingly at the menu. It hardly matters—I don’t speak French and no one seems to speak English—or if they do, they don’t bother to help me—so I’ve ordered frites and chocolat chaud or cafe au lait everywhere I’ve eaten. I’m going to get sick of French fries and hot chocolate soon.

Carlos’ scent swirls around me again and sadness stirs behind my eyes. Part of me wonders what our date would’ve been like, if I’d stayed in Tucson and let him take me to dinner. He would have held the doors and paid, like a perfect gentleman. That much I know. But would we have found laughter together? Would we joke? Tease? Would the same sparks be there between us that we felt during the full moon?

Hah. How can I even doubt that? He couldn’t keep his hands off me in Tucson, and he was trying to make amends.

I stare at the cafe across the street, not really seeing anything or anyone. Not until my eyes meet the gaze of a man who has the look of a spy stealing glances.

A jolt of electricity flashes through me.

Carlos.

The man looks away, playing it cool.

Wait, is it him? I can’t tell now, because he’s turned his face away. But it has to be. The man has the same broad shoulders, same dark hair and bronze skin.

Fuck. Me.

What in the hell is he doing here? Has he been following me this entire trip?

I resist the urge to stomp across the street and sock him in the face. No, he doesn’t know he’s been made yet, which gives me the upper hand. If he wants to follow, I’ll make it exciting for him.

I finish my meal and pay the bill, then play entitled oblivious American and walk right through the kitchen and out the back door, slipping into the alleyway behind the cafe.

Catch me if you can, I murmur through clenched teeth.

I have no doubt he’ll find me soon, and I’m not feeling kindly toward him at the moment. But how to punish him for this incredible infringement on my privacy, my space?

Garrett’s text yesterday said his contact in Paris could be found at a paranormal bar called The Dungeon. I don’t care about meeting up with the contact, but a paranormal bar would be just the kind of place to get under Carlos’ skin.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a location I’d frequent alone. I’ve been warned my whole life about staying away from places like that. As a shifter, I’m fairly safe in a normal bar—no human man could mess with me unless he drugged me first. But a paranormal bar is full of trouble, and dangerous for a single female. Or maybe that’s just the bullshit lie I’ve been fed all my life.

Either way, I have a feeling Carlos will lose his ever-loving shit at seeing me there, and that serves him right for stalking me like a creep-o.

I look up the location on my phone and, as luck would have it, find it’s just six blocks from the boutique hotel where I’m staying. I grab a cab to go back to the hotel, certain Carlos will show up there when he realizes he’s lost my trail.

Feeling almost cheerful for the first time since I arrived in Paris, I shower and put on the dress I packed. A red dress. With a short flippy skirt. I blow dry my hair and apply some mascara and lip gloss. It must be the pregnancy, because despite my low mood over the last week, I look radiant.

Carlos, eat your heart out.

I don a pair of black knee-high boots and march out of the building with a flick of my umbrella and a toss of my hair. Now that I’m watching for it, I notice when the door opens behind me, sense the black wolf’s presence behind me.

Did you just want to make me chase you?

Yeah, I guess I do. Because my wolf loves this game. I have a bounce in my step as I walk down the narrow, cobblestone streets in search of The Dungeon. I walk past it a few times before I locate an unmarked door at the bottom of a short set of steps. Well, of course the Dungeon is located below ground level. Guess that should’ve been obvious.

I stretch out a hand to the door knob, listening first to make sure I’m not trying to walk into someone’s home or something. No, I hear music. I push the door open.

It’s like the cliché in every movie, when the needle scratches off and the place goes quiet, everyone turns to look at me.

One of these things is not like the other. At least I hope not. Because the crowd inside is seedy. With a capital S. And I stand out like a bright, juicy grape in a pile of raisins.

Scents assault my nose—shifters of all kinds are here, along with vampires and whatever else is freaky in Paris. They look like they live in this bar, faces flushed red and pickled with alcohol use.

I’m one of three females in the place, and the other two are old shifters of some kind and not attractive. I pick my way toward the bar. Dirt coats the floors, the tables haven’t been scrubbed down to the wood in ages, if ever.

Behind the bar, a short, disheveled man dries a glass with a dirty rag, openly staring at me like everyone else.

I swallow and swagger to the bar, nudging my way between two leering males who don’t have the decency to move their limbs and feet out of the way for me. “I’ll take a ginger ale,” I say.

The bartender doesn’t move, just keeps polishing the glass like I didn’t say anything.

Maybe he doesn’t speak English. I sigh and try again. “Café au lait?”

This time the bartender’s lip curls and he shakes his head.

Well, peachy.

Even if I hadn’t sensed Carlos come in, I wouldn’t let this asshole’s lack of hospitality chase me away. I plunk both elbows on the bar, like I’m going to stay awhile. “Well, what do you have?”

He pours a clear liquid from an unmarked bottle into a small glass and pushes it over to me.

It smells like rubbing alcohol. For all I know, it’s a home brew. Maybe laced with the date rape drug for good measure. Probably what they reserve for every stupid female who finds her way in here.

I don’t touch it.

A shifter with broad shoulders and a tight black t-shirt comes over and leans his elbow down next to mine, a broad smile on his face. I don’t recognize his scent until I see the dragon tail tattoo curling around the side of his neck.

No. Way. I’ve never met one before.

Before Carlos I might have been impressed. The guy is big, good-looking and oozes male dominance. But all I can think is how much better-defined Carlos’ muscles are, how much kinder his dark-lashed brown eyes appear.

And suddenly, I’m not so sure about my plan to strut in here and get under Carlos’ skin. I don’t actually want to make him jealous—not in the real sense of the word, and this guy might do that.

I try to take a step back, but I’m pinned by another guy to my left. Also dragon. They’re hunting together.

The dragon murmurs something in French and I shake my head, twisting and looking around the bar with a forced nonchalance. Where did Carlos go?

The dragon frowns and picks up my drink, lifting it to my lips.

I turn my face away and some of it spills down the front of me, cold droplets trickling between my breasts. The dragon’s eyes light on the droplets and he leans forward like he’s going to lick them off. I shove at his head, trying to get his tongue away from my skin. His friend grabs me from the back, chuckling as he pins my arms behind me. I scream.

I see a flash of skin and hear the crack of bone on bone. The dragon shifter roars and leaps to his feet, rubbing his jaw, as two hundred pounds of angry wolf wedges in front of me.

Carlos.

I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew. I never meant for him to have to defend me or fight for me. I only wanted to rile him up a little. To reveal himself.

Now we’re both in serious danger. In human form, Carlos might be an even match for this guy, maybe even for the guy and his friend. But if they shift, a wolf is no match for a dragon. Hell, the dragon could burn this place down with one roar.

The dragon behind me chuckles, but he’s released my arms. “The she-wolf has a mate,” he observes in English.

I grab Carlos’ arm and tug him toward the door. “Carlos, it’s all right. Come on, let’s go.”

Carlos won’t stop growling, nor does he take his eyes off his foe.

I pull with all my might. “Carlos, let’s go.”

The dragons haven’t moved to escalate the fight, but I have no doubt they will if Carlos keeps it up.

I change my tactic, and push in front of Carlos, as if I’m going to defend him. He immediately picks me up by the waist and tries to set me aside, but I don’t go. I repeat the action of pushing my way between them. It seems to do the trick, because his brow furrows. I’m banking on the instinct to get me out of danger being greater than his need to prove himself in front of me.

Carlos picks me up again and carries me toward the door, only stopping to readjust and throw me over his shoulder when we’re clear of the dragons.

Miraculously, no one follows, no one challenges him.

He doesn’t say a word to me or anyone else as he shoves out the door and climbs the steps. The rain has stopped and mist curls around the buildings and lamplights. Carlos’ breath puffs in and out at an angry cadence as his shoes hit the cobblestones.

A shiver of excitement goes through me.

I like him mad.

Of course that makes no sense. I don’t even know how to analyze it, other than recognizing his take-charge display of male dominance curls my toes. Maybe I do feel a teeny bit guilty, too, for nearly getting him killed in there.

He marches all the way back to my hotel, not setting me down until the elevator doors close behind us. Then he drops me to my feet, spins me to face a wall, and flattens both my hands against it with one of his pressed over the top of them. His other hand crashes down several times on my ass.

Ouch.

And… yum.

My panties dampen, heart taps rapidly against the front of my rib cage.

Carlos, you devil.

“Never, never go into a paranormal bar alone,” he clips, his accent thicker than usual.

The elevator stops on my floor. He pulls my hands from the elevator wall, whipping me around, making the skirt of my dress swing and flare. “Come.”

He marches straight to my door, taking my purse from my shoulder and retrieving the key.

I ought to be enraged by the proprietary actions, but I’m not. I’m still finding his anger enticing.

I know, it’s weird.

The moment the door swings open, Carlos points to the opposite wall. “Hands on the wall, like before.”

I try to muster some fire, cocking a hip. “What right do you have—”

Carlos is upon me in seconds, shoving me back against the closed door, mouth pressing over mine in a searing kiss. His large hands roam over my body, find the zipper on the back of my dress and yank it down. The dress falls to my feet and I stand in my black lace bra and panties and black leather boots. Stunned.

“Panties off. Keep the bra and boots,” he orders.

My tummy flutters with excitement. I’m not the least bit scared of this male—maybe that’s crazy. But we’ve been through worse and he managed to be a gentleman. He may be angry now, but there’s no sign of his wolf in his eyes, only dark promise.

Delicious dark promise.

Still, I don’t move to obey him. Maybe I just want to see what he’ll do. How far will he take this authoritative stance?

I’m right. He doesn’t grow angry, instead his eyelids droop and he adjusts his cock in his pants. “Muñeca, get into position like I told you.”

My nipples harden. I’m sure he smells my arousal because heat blooms between my thighs. I’m too excited to refuse him, so I strut across the room in my bra and boots and panties and put my palms against the wall, ass out.

“Good girl.” His purr hypnotizes. He walks up behind me and hooks his thumbs in the elastic of my panties. I expect him to tug them off, but he lowers them to just below my buttocks. “You don’t want to take them off?” His lips are close to my ear. “Now you have to keep them up. Spread your legs, ángel. If the panties drop, I start the spanking over.”

My pussy clenches at the word spanking, which somehow thrills me the most out of all the sexy things we’ve already done, mango fucking included. I widen my stance to stretch the panties between my thighs. It’s half-humiliating, half-erotic. I love it.

But then Carlos’ hand claps down on my ass, harder than I dreamed possible, and the fun is totally over.

I yelp and jump away from the wall. “Ouch! That hurt.” Shifters may heal fast, but it doesn’t mean we don’t experience just as much pain as your average human.

Carlos grabs my ass, fingers gripping the cheek he just marked with his palm. He brings his body right up against mine, snaking an arm around my waist to hold me tight. His thick cock presses against my belly, hard and insistent. “I know, ángel. I meant it to hurt.” He eases his grip on my ass and rubs away the sting. “You must get back into position.”

I don’t know how he manages to make his bossy words sound so sexy. Is it the rough timbre of his voice? Or the way he holds his lips so close to my ear?

Still, I’m not falling for it. Not now that I know how hard he spanks. “No.”

He nips my ear, then traces the shell with the tip of his tongue. “Sí, mi amor. I need to show you I care enough to do this. I won’t let you put yourself in danger.”

My heart beats double-time. I feel he’s telling me something important but it’s all mixed up in sex and pain so I can’t quite untangle it.

“Now go back to the wall and put your hands on it. Tip that perfect ass back for me so I can paint it red. And next time you think of risking your safety, you’ll remember how much I cherish you.” He’s massaging my ass with both hands now and I can’t stop grinding my pussy down on his hard thigh pressing between my legs.

“Th-that doesn’t make sense.” I sound completely breathless.

“Doesn’t it?” There’s a smile in his voice. “We’ll see if it makes sense when I’m done.” He grips my arm and propels me toward the wall.

I’m too curious now not to obey. I put my palms on the wall and tip my pelvis back. The panties fell to the floor when I jumped back the last time, so my ass is bare, legs quivering as I wait.

 

~.~

 

Glory to the fates, Sedona is right here, offering herself up like the most delectable morsel in paradise.

She’s beyond beautiful with my handprint painting her creamy skin, her thick chestnut hair falling in waves down her back. I take a mental snapshot, wanting to remember this image forever. The boots, the muscular thighs, her exquisite bare ass. I add it to the ones that haunt me from our shared cell in Monte Lobo.

I would’ve torn those dragons apart, limb from limb, if they’d challenged me for Sedona. I’m sure that’s why they didn’t. They would have caught my scent embedded in her skin and deciphered that she is mine. No smart shifter gets between a male and his marked mate, no matter what the species.

And all that aggression seeks redirection now. If Sedona showed fear or anger, I’d back down. But I can smell her interest. Her nipples are taut, her breaths make those perky tits rise and fall rapidly. And her eyes are glassy, like I’ve already fucked her.

She needs this. We both do. It will release my aggression, show her how worried I was.

I draw my hand back and bring it down with a resounding slap. She jerks, but incredibly, stays put this time. I spank her again, striking the other side, then pepper her perfect round globes with a volley of slaps that leave her breathless, panting.

Her ass looks so pretty with the blush of my handprints coloring the lower half. Just enough to warm it. As a shifter, the pain will only be momentary, fading completely within minutes.

I squeeze a handful of her ass in one hand and wrap a fist in her hair, tugging her head back. “What were you thinking?” I growl and land another hard slap to her backside.

She jerks, but my grip in her hair keeps her from moving. “I-I knew you’d follow,” she confesses.

I go still. She’d known I was there. Of course she had. I’d been so caught up in the moment, I didn’t note her lack of surprise when I shoved in to rescue her at the bar.

“I just wanted to draw you out.”

What does that mean? She wants me here?

I ease my grip on her hair and move into her line of sight, leaning my head against the wall. I need to see her face, try to understand. “You knew I was here? For how long?”

She nibbles her lower lip. “I saw you at dinner.”

I can’t help but smile. Clever little she-wolf. That’s why she disappeared from the restaurant. I’d been frantic trying to figure out where she went after she paid her bill. With the rain, I couldn’t catch her scent when I moved in to scout the building, but then I’d looked up and seen her climbing in a taxi.

I stroke my knuckles over her luminous skin, tracing the line of her cheekbone. “Were you angry with me, beautiful? I was just trying to give you space, but I needed to look after your safety, too.”

She moistens her lips with her tongue, which sends my cock surging against my zipper. “I was angry, yes. A little.”

Her eyes are dilated. I’d be a fool if I chose this moment for a heart to heart. My female is ripe for the plucking right now. Maybe my trip to the sex shop wasn’t such a bad idea.

I pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger and lift it. “So you punished me by putting yourself in danger?” I arch a stern brow.

Her lids droop like she loves being scolded by me. “I didn’t mean to put us in real danger. I just meant to tease you. Make you jealous of the attention I might get in there.”

My wolf growls at the suggestion of males giving her attention, but I don’t want to miss what she’s telling me. My mate was teasing me. That can’t be a bad thing. It means she wants something from me—but what? Attention? A declaration of intent? The upper hand? Whatever it is, I’m taking it as a win, just as I’m taking this moment. I have my glorious mate nearly naked and trembling for me, legs spread, ass red, lips swollen from our kiss earlier.

“That was naughty, Sedona,” I chide, stroking her hair back from her face. I lower my voice. “I’m going to have to punish you again.”

I see the flare of excitement in her at the same time she turns and lunges away.

I catch her by the waist and haul her into the air, tossing her on the bed.

She shrieks, laughing as she rolls for the edge. I dive on top of her, tackle and pin her down.

“Tsk tsk, ángel. That earned you even more punishment.” I can’t stop the grin from stretching across my face. My wolf loves the chase as much as she loves to run. I hold her wrists down beside her head and take a moment to drink her in. So lovely. Her thick, glossy hair cascades in waves around her head, her cheeks carry a pretty flush of color.

I bend my head to her breasts and bite each nipple through the black lace of her bra, then fasten my teeth around the center of it and tug.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sedona struggles against my grip on her wrists. “I’ll take it off, Carlos. Don’t rip it. I love this bra.”

“I do, too.” I waggle my eyebrows and release her wrists, help her peel the straps down her arms and unhook the fastener in the back. I use the bra to wrap her wrists together, then I fasten them to the iron bedpost at the head of the bed. “Do not move, Sedona,” I warn. “Or you’ll rip your favorite bra. I will be back in two minutes.”

“Wait!” She twists around, her eyes flying wide.

She doesn’t like being left in such a vulnerable position. Oh fates, I hope this isn’t bringing back a bad memory. I’d only hoped to make good ones. I climb back over her and kiss the sensitive skin on the insides of her arms. “You know you can get out of this with little effort, right, ángel? I promise I’ll be right back. Three minutes—tops. I just need to get something from my room. Okay, beautiful?”

She nods, visibly relaxing.

I unzip her knee-high boots and slide them off her feet, along with the thin nylon socks she wore underneath to make her more comfortable. To re-set the mood, I make my face stern. “You use this time to think about what your punishment should be, little white wolf. And we’ll see if our ideas mesh when I return.”

When she rolls her hips, I’m reassured she’s not afraid or traumatized. My she-wolf likes what I plan for her. I take Sedona’s key and slip out of the room to jog two floors down to mine, where I retrieve the bag of toys.

My eyes lock on Sedona the moment I walk in and I’m unable to look away. Everything about her is mesmerizing—the smooth cream of her skin, the peaks of her breasts. The flat, fluttering belly, her smoothly waxed mons. She watches me, twitching her thighs together like she needs relief. I definitely plan to give it to her. After a fair bit of torture.

“Oh, ángel.” I quickly unbutton my shirt as I stalk to the bed. “I can’t believe I left these perfect nipples unsucked.” I shuck the shirt and climb over her, delighting in the shiver that runs through her body the moment my legs straddle her thighs. I flick one nipple with my tongue, once, twice, coaxing it into its stiffest peak. Then I latch my lips over it and suck, hard.

She moans and arches, throwing her head back, chin toward the ceiling.

“Lovely, lovely girl.”

“Carlos.” I love hearing her say my name so breathlessly.

“That’s right, ángel, Carlos brings you pleasure. Only Carlos.”

She wriggles, pants, whimpers. “No.”

“No?” I stop torturing her worship-worthy nipple and lift my head.

She shakes her head then changes it to a nod. “Yes. Wait—”

I don’t move. I know she’s confused—hell, I’m confused, too. But I definitely don’t want to move in for the kill if she’s going to hate me afterward.

“Carlos—what are you doing?”

I crawl backward over her luscious body to settle between her legs. Sliding my hands under her buttocks, I lift her core to meet my mouth and take a long lick. “Punishing you.”

Her entire body jerks and the cry that comes from her lips has me groaning with desire. My cock aches to be inside my beautiful mate.

“You deserve this punishment, don’t you, beautiful? For being a terrible cock tease?” I flick the tip of my tongue over her clit.

She makes a sound resembling ooh-ooh as she thrusts her pelvis toward my mouth.

“That’s it, doll.” I suction my lips over her little swollen bud and take a draw.

She squeals, thrashing her legs around my ears.

“I have big plans for you, little she-wolf. And they all involve you naked and at my mercy.”

Her pussy gushes moisture and it’s all I can do to keep from yanking my dick out and sinking into her tight channel.

But I want to take my time with her tonight. My plan had been to re-forge intimacy and that means drawing this out. Even if it takes all night.

 

~.~

 

Sedona

 

Somewhere in my brain lies the urge to protest this unexpected turn of events. I’d planned to punish Carlos with my red dress and appearance in a bar, now he’s wrested all control from me.

But I’m not feeling weak. On the contrary, being the object of Carlos’ singular focus, seeing the dark need and lust swirling in his gaze sends power coursing through me even though I’m the one tied up.

He takes another pull off my clit, then rolls me onto my stomach, taking care to adjust the bra binding my wrists to keep my arms comfortable.

My mind may have a few reservations, but my body’s clearly on board with whatever Carlos is planning, because I lift my ass, giving him a better view of my most intimate parts.

“Mmm.” Carlos grabs a proprietary handful of one cheek, squeezing roughly. “You keep that ass rolled back for me, ángel, show me you can take your punishment like a good girl.”

My insides turn liquid, heat building in my core. I love Carlos’ dirty talk—this game he’s playing with me. I expect him to crawl up and enter me from behind—I crave that, actually, but I hear him rummage in the bag he brought and the flick of something plastic, like the flip of a lid.

When he pries my butt cheeks apart, I freak. Tugging on my bound wrists for leverage, I pull my knees up under me, and crawl away.

Carlos grabs my calf and pulls me back flat on my tummy. “Ah ah, mi amor. That’s not taking it like a good girl.” He tries again to prise open my cheeks, but I list to the side, rolling to press my ass to the bedspread.

Amusement lights Carlos’ handsome face. He’s on his knees beside me, holding a tube of lubricant in his hand, but he drops the lube and grasps both my ankles. Connecting them in one large hand, he holds them high and delivers several sharp slaps to my ass.

I shriek in surprise at the spanks and the shockingly vulnerable position, my ass in the air, lady parts exposed. Carlos tilts my legs toward my head and dribbles some lube into my ass crack.

“Carlos.” I’m whimpering now. Anal sex is totally not something I’m prepared to give him, no matter how hot and bothered he has me.

He leans over and kisses my smarting cheeks. “Shh, beautiful wolf. You have nothing to fear from me.”

The flutters in my belly say different, but as I analyze the statement, I know he’s right. I trust this male not to harm me. Even so, I shake my head.

Carlos picks up what must be a butt plug—I’ve never seen one before, but I can guess at its use—and brings the tip to my anus. “This is your punishment, mi amor.” He lifts my ankles—not high enough to pull my pelvis up off the bed this time—and nudges the bulbous tip of the slender stainless steel plug against my back hole.

My anus clenches, then, against my will, my body opens for it. Carlos presses his advantage, easing the plug into me. The sensation is at once delicious and horrifying. I don’t want to like it, but I do. Pleasure floods me as he works the cool metal phallus deeper. It’s not too big, so while there’s a sensation of stretching and filling, there’s no discomfort, other than my embarrassment at having an object up my ass. He pushes it in until it seats, then rolls me to my belly and gives my ass a light slap.

I’m oddly disgruntled, not about having the plug in my ass, but now that it’s in, I’m needy and flushed, wanting more. “Carlos?”

“Madre de Dios, yes, Sedona. Keep saying my name in that throaty voice of yours. It makes me want to jack off and come all over you.”

A shocked little gust comes out of me—half laugh, half moan. Like before, I hike up my ass, offering an invitation for him to take what he’s already claimed.

Fates know I want his cock again, just as badly as I’d wanted it the night he marked me.

He groans. “Are you offering me that pretty little pussy of yours, ángel?” He slips his fingers between my legs and strokes my slit.

My eyes roll back in my head. “Yes, Carlos.” I hardly recognize my wanton moan.

Carlos dips into my juices and coats my inner lips with my own natural lubrication, circling my clit with maddening slowness. Then, at the same time, he starts to move the slender butt plug in and out of my ass.

I shout with surprise, the intensity of pleasure and need catapulting me into overdrive.

“C-Carlos!”

“You like that, doll?”

“Oh fates, please!”

“Please, what, beautiful?”

“Please don’t stop. Please, faster—Carlos!” I try to convey my urgency by beating my feet on the bed, like a swimmer’s kick, only from just the knees.

Somehow, despite my lack of sexual experience, I’m quite sure that the only thing better would be penetration of my pussy, too. As if Carlos reads my mind, he glides two fingers inside me, pumping them alternately with the plug.

My moans meld into one long, guttural cry. Probably everyone in the damn hotel can hear me, but whatever. It’s Paris. “Carlos, Carlos, please,” I beg. I seriously want to weep—I’m so wound up, need release so badly.

Carlos starts plunging his fingers and the plug at the same time, fast, and stars burst before my eyes. I feel like I’m hurtling into a dark tunnel on a roller coaster. It’s Space Mountain all the way as everything in me shoots toward the finish line. It’s more like a portal, than a line, though, because the second I pass through it, my body tightens and squeezes, wringing every last bit of pleasure out while my mind, my consciousness, soars. I coast into outer space, flung so far and so high I can’t even remember my name. My age. My species.

And then I’m back. Panting into the bedspread as Carlos eases both his fingers and the plug from my body. He trails kisses across my lower back before he disappears to the bathroom to use the sink.

I’m boneless, incapable of moving from where I seem to have melted into the bed. When Carlos returns, he releases my wrists and gathers me up into his arms.

“Okay, ángel?”

Somehow I manage to nod. I try to make my lips move, to ask about his pleasure. I’d invite him to satisfy his earlier expressed fantasy of jacking off all over me, but no sound comes out.

Carlos presses a bottle of water to my lips and I drink.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs in awe.

I don’t need to be told—as an alpha female, it’s something I’ve always known, but he doesn’t seem to be saying it for my benefit. More like an observation he can’t help but make.

“Are you hungry, mi amor? I bought some snacks for us, too.”

I manage a weak nod. “When were you planning to feed me them?” I ask when he returns with a container of fresh strawberries, a baguette, and a jar of Nutella.

“I hadn’t figured that part out yet.” His rueful grin is humble and handsome and my remaining annoyance melts away. This is the male I remember from that cell in Mexico. The male I formed a bond with, whether I like it or not. He dips a strawberry into the Nutella and holds it up to my lips.

I take a bite, conscious of his gaze glued to my lips. A trickle of juice escapes my lips and Carlos lunges as my tongue flicks it away. He stops himself and swallows.

“Sedona. I-I have so many things I want to say, but none of them seem good enough. I’m sorry. I’ll start with that. I’m sorry.”

I look at him from under my lashes. “For what, exactly?”

“For what my pack did to you. I can never take it back. Never make it up to you. But the fates know I want to try.”

I draw in a breath. I have to ask this question. I need to know how much of what happened in Mexico was biology—the full moon and two alphas locked together—and how much is real. “What about what you said back in the cell—that you weren’t sorry it happened?”

Carlos clenches his jaw and busies himself with tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in the Nutella. He feeds it to me. “That’s also true.” His voice has the timber of a heavy confession, like he doesn’t want to admit it, but can’t lie.

I’m dismayed by how much lighter his admission makes me feel. How far have I fallen for this guy?

I’m loving the chocolate bread treat and I lift my chin to urge him to give me more. He does, immediately. I don’t have any comparisons, but it’s hard to imagine a more attentive lover.

“Sedona, I don’t wish to force myself on you. The last thing I want is to make this all harder. But I’m also incapable of letting you go. I’m not saying that to scare you, I’m just trying to explain why I’m here, following you like a stray dog who smells meat.”

My lips twitch at his comparison and I see relief seep across his expression.

“Let me serve as your escort on this trip. I know you came to forget me. To forget what happened. But I’ve been watching you for days, mi amor, and your melancholy hasn’t lessened. Maybe you need a… friend to share your travels. I speak a little French and I’m very good at holding umbrellas and keeping the flocks of fans away from soon-to-be-famous artists when they stop to sketch things.”

I arch a brow. “Friend, huh? Do you strip all of your friends naked and tie them to bedposts?” The minute I ask the question, I’m burning with jealousy. Has he done this before? He did seem rather expert at it. I want to poke the eyes out of every female he’s been with.

His lips twitch. “You brought that on yourself, blanca. You should know better than to goad my wolf.” He uses that authoritative tone that gets me wet.

“What’s blanca—white?”

“Yes. So what do you say, muñeca? Will you let me stay? Be your companion?”

“That depends.” I already know my answer is yes. The heaviness that’s shrouded me since Mexico is lifting and European travel suddenly becomes as enticing as it felt when I first dreamed of coming here.

“Name your conditions, mi amor. I will respect them.”

I love the honor and respect he shows me. “When I say I need space, you back off. I’m not accepting you as my mate.”

He nods gravely. “Understood. I’m not asking for that.”

Suddenly shy, I snatch up a strawberry and bite into it. I love the hungry expression that creeps over Carlos’ face as he watches. I wonder if he’s going to demand his own pleasure or deny himself to prove he’ll behave. I’m tempted to confess to him that next time I’d love to try the butt plug and his cock, but I hold back.

He’s not my mate, he’s a companion. We still haven’t discussed how doomed and impossible any future relationship would be, but the subject looms over us.

“Maybe we should go to Spain,” I blurt to keep from jumping his bones.

“Why?”

“You speak the language. It might be more fun.”

He leans his forehead against mine as he presses another strawberry between my lips. “That is a wonderful idea, mi amor. We’ll go visit the haunts of Gaudí and Picasso. Dalí. Miró. Who else?”

I beam at him. Though I’ve been the princess of my father’s pack my entire life, and many would call me spoiled, I always felt like no one knew me. Like I’m little more than an object or symbol. Carlos pays attention. He knows exactly what I like and I love the feeling of being truly seen for once. And the idea of visiting museums with him nearly makes me giddy.

I nestle my head against his shoulder, settling into the comfort he provides. For all my brave desires to do this trip alone, it’s much nicer to have a partner. Especially one as capable and caring as Carlos.