Chapter Thirteen
Mal paced the bedroom he was sharing with Olivia. Finn had to know they weren’t mates. Was he trying to test Mal’s control? Or had his sense of humor become seriously twisted since Mal left? Whatever the reason, he was pissed.
And so fucking relieved.
If she’d been in another room, it would be impossible to keep an eye on her or protect her. It had nothing to do with what he wanted or needed.
Bullshit.
His wolf was having a fucking field day with this. He was winning, wearing down Mal’s resistance. Why not make her his? No one would touch her then, or challenge his claim to her.
Anders and Dante—hell, even Hollis—were his friends. They wouldn’t pursue her. If she was his.
“All yours,” Olivia said, emerging from the bathroom on a cloud of steam, wearing a long flannel gown. “So, Finn, he’s mega-rich rich? Not that the bedroom on the airplane didn’t sort of tip me off.”
Mal laughed. “Head of Dean Automotive, lots of investments, lots of money. So, yeah, obscenely rich.”
She grinned. “I got that. The bathroom seemed a little over the top for a wolf refuge in the middle of nowhere. Not that I’m complaining about the heated floors or the waterfall shower. Not in the least.” She paused, rubbing her towel over her hair. “Where are we?”
“Montana.”
“Makes sense. Wolves. Not overly populated.”
“Finn bought this place after he was infected. The dig site where it happened isn’t far from here.” Mal sat on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Figured keeping it protected might prevent anyone else from getting hurt.”
She sat beside him, the towel in her hands. “He’s a good guy? Finn, I mean?”
Mal nodded.
“What Ellen said about tonight…” She stared at her hands. “Am I going to be dangerous?”
“Yes. We all are. We’re wolves. Every time you shift, you’ll have the urge to rain a shit-storm of pain on whoever stands in your way. You’ll learn to control it.”
“No training manual?” she asked, her attempt to tease strained.
He cradled her hand in his. “Tonight will be the worst. You’ll be disoriented, confused.”
“That’s what happened with Finn?” she asked.
Finn had been out of his mind. He’d looked through them all, blazing with raw aggression and fueled by fear. One by one, he’d chased them down—no sign of the man he’d been. Mal’s first shift had been nothing like that. “I think Finn went through something else.”
“But that’s how you were turned? And Anders and Hollis and Dante?”
“Yes.” He wasn’t going to lie to her. “Finn lost it.”
She stood. “How do you know I won’t lose it?”
“You can’t hurt your pack. I mean, you can, but you won’t. Your wolf will know there’s no threat.” He stood, too. “There are no humans nearby.”
“Jessa?”
“Locked up and guarded.” Mal shook his head. “After tonight it won’t be like that. You and your wolf will connect and be one. You’ll learn to shift when you need to, regardless of the moon.”
“What about things I do consider a threat?” She glanced at him, anger burning in her hazel eyes. “Like Ellen.”
“I won’t stand in your way.” He’d love to see Olivia kick the bitch’s ass. “When you’re ready.”
“I won’t be tonight?” She was too goddamn gorgeous, too soft and sweet, to be a monster. If he could go back—no, he wouldn’t change a thing. She was alive and here.
He shook his head.
“Will you—will I be alone?” she asked.
His heart thudded. Never. He shook his head again. “I’ll be there.”
“With me?”
He nodded.
She smiled, covering her mouth as she yawned.
“Sleep,” he said, nodding at the large bed in the middle of their room.
“Shower.” She nodded at the bathroom, grinning broadly as she climbed onto the bed. She collapsed against the pillows with a sigh. “Heaven.”
Mal agreed. But standing here staring at her was pathetic. He forced himself from the bedroom, stripped off the undershirt and pants he’d found on the helicopter, and stepped into the steaming shower. The hot water stung, but the rhythmic rain of water eased the knots of tension from his shoulders and neck. Things were far from settled, but there was comfort in being back with Finn and the pack.
Tonight, Olivia would shift.
Tomorrow, he and Finn would talk. Beating the shit out of his Alpha had taken some of the fight out of him, but not all of it. It was time he told the pack that Ellen was gathering information about Cyrus. They’d react. They’d want answers. Hell, he wanted answers.
While Mal had a hard time believing the bitch had anything of value to offer when it came to protecting Jessa, Hollis did. If they had to bide their time until the pregnancy was done, they could. But they’d be watching her, alert, and ready for any move that might come their way.
And before Ellen died, they’d make sure to extract every piece of information they could.
The only concern that needed immediate action was how she was contacting the Others. Finn wasn’t stupid, their wireless and internet were locked-down hard-core. If she was getting information to Cyrus now, how was she doing it? Or was she planning on escaping, taking something with her besides information about them? What the hell would the Others want from them?
In the years since Finn’s pack had been infected, the Others had found the refuge once. But the entire raiding party had been killed. The refuge was just that—a refuge from their enemy and a place to be what they were away from the prying eyes of a world that would never understand. If Ellen had already compromised their location to the Others, why hadn’t they attacked? If she hadn’t given them away yet, then Mal would do whatever was necessary to keep it that way.
He turned off the shower jets, dried off, and headed back into the bedroom.
Olivia slept restlessly, her features fluid in sleep, her lips parted and cheeks flushed, the sudden hitch of breath followed by a soft gasp. His wolf wanted to touch her, so he ran his fingertips along her brow, smoothing the furrow. She turned into his touch, sighing as he pressed his palm to her cheek.
He crouched by the edge of the bed, studying her face. He cared about her, and it scared the shit out of him. She was his mate—it’s what he wanted and what his wolf craved. But being his mate meant more pain for her—something he wasn’t willing to subject her to.
But he’d cared before. Loving her, Jude, had meant her death. Finding what was left of the woman he’d planned to marry haunted him. Hate had been the only thing that mattered. Hating the Others. Hating himself. Hating Finn. Hating life.
But he couldn’t hate Olivia. Or leave her. What he felt for her was too big, too real. All the cold hardness he’d wrapped around his heart had thawed during his time with her. She’d woken him up, made him live, made him fear.
...
The white wolf was following her.
She was running, but the snow at her feet was heavy and clinging—pulling her into the ground. It wasn’t white snow, it was red. The tang of blood, sharp and burning, flooded her nostrils.
She could feel the breath of the wolf on the nape of her neck, smell the blood on his fur, and ran faster.
Air powered from her lungs, her claws tore up the ground. Claws. Fur. She was a wolf now. And her wolf didn’t want to run anymore. She stopped, spinning in the blood-red snow to face the white wolf.
But she was alone. Completely alone.
Olivia sat up, the terror of her dream waking her.
“Olivia?” Mal’s voice. Mal’s hands running over her arms. Mal’s warmth as he tugged her back down beside him. “Bad dream.” His voice was thick. “Just a dream.”
She burrowed closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face to his chest. His smell, his strength, made the trembling stop.
“What was it?” he asked, sounding more awake.
She shook her head.
“Tell me.” His words were muffled against her temple.
She looked up at him. “I was being chased by a white wolf.”
His hand slid through her hair while his arm tightened around her waist.
“I realized I was a wolf, s-so I turned to face him. H-he was gone.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I was alone.”
“It was a dream,” he whispered.
“That felt real. The ground was red.” She shook her head. “It felt real.”
“Never happen.” Was he smiling?
She blinked. “Okay. But—”
“I’d never let it happen,” he said, interrupting her. Yes, he was definitely smiling.
She smiled, too, confused. “You weren’t there.”
He traced the side of her face with his fingertips, his eyes narrowing as they swept over her. His smile tightened then faded, leaving him looking vulnerable. “Which will never happen.” His voice shook. “Never.”
Any hint of lingering fear or confusion was gone. Mal’s brown eyes bored into her, into her soul. She couldn’t move, didn’t want to. Right now, the only thing she wanted was to stay wrapped up in his arms and lost in his dark eyes.
Until he kissed her.
Soft. Gentle. The brush of his lips feather-light against hers, leaving her gasping. Mal, tender, made her ache, body and heart.
Her hands slid up his sides, his chest and neck. She cradled his face, her thumbs stroking the rough stubble of his cheeks and hard angle of his jaw. He pressed his forehead to hers, the slight shake of his head making her hesitate.
Then he was over her, the bed shifting beneath his weight. The tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened for him. His kiss was long and slow, his tongue and lips worshipping hers, drawing her earlobe into his mouth, nipping the length of her neck.
But then he stopped. “We have to go.” He looked at her.
“What?” she managed. They were going somewhere? “I’m good.”
He grinned. “It’s getting late.”
Late. “Oh.” She pressed her eyes shut. Late as in she’d be turning into a wolf soon, not losing her virginity.
“I’ll be with you,” he said, still lying on top of her.
She didn’t open her eyes. “Okay.” She wanted him close, but she suspected his presence wouldn’t make it hurt less.
“Olivia?” He was worried; she could hear it in his voice.
She opened her eyes, staring up at him. “Were you sleeping on top of the blankets?” The thick comforter she was covered with was squished between them, effectively pinning her beneath him—and separating them.
“Thought it would be a good idea.” His hand smoothed the hair from her forehead.
“Because I might attack you in my sleep?” She frowned. Ellen’s warning worried her more than the pain of the shift. She knew she’d survive that; she’d seen Mal do it. But she’d never be able to live with herself if she hurt someone else.
“No.” Mal slid off her, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Because I might attack you.”
She rolled her eyes, sitting up. “You’re hilarious.”
He stood, running a hand over his face. “I wasn’t trying to be.” He looked at her, the hunger in his eyes making her breathless. “I want you so damn bad. I think about the way you felt, hot and tight around my fingers. How you taste. Watching you come.” His voice was hard, almost angry. He stared at her, his gaze devouring her mouth, his jaw muscle working. “I can’t lose control with you.”
Olivia’s insides melted. She throbbed, his words pricking sweetly at the end of every single nerve. Memories crashed in of his scent, his mouth, and tongue. She blew out a deep breath, gripping the comforter in both hands. “Why?”
“I’m trying to be the good guy,” he bit out.
“Don’t be,” she begged. “Please.”
His nostrils flared. “Stop.”
She kicked the blankets aside, her frustration mounting. “Stop?” She tugged Jessa’s borrowed gown into place. “Stop what? Responding? Aching? It’s you. You did this”—she pointed to herself—“to me. You made me crave things I never wanted before. You look at me and kiss me and say things that—Oh God—make me burn. You touch me and it’s all I want. I don’t know how to stop this. Don’t tell me to stop. I don’t want to.”
“Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face. “Tonight, you need to focus on shifting, that’s all. You’re right—this is my fault. I know better, and I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“If you apologize, I will bite you,” she snapped.
His jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides.
“Tonight. When I’m a wolf…” she clarified, stunned by his reaction. He wanted her to bite him? Not the response she’d expected.
“Relax. Being angry or upset can make it harder to shift.”
“Harder? As in more painful?” she asked.
He nodded.
She’d try not to be upset if he’d stop looking at her mouth and acting like it was taking 100 percent of his concentration not to toss her onto the bed and do everything she wanted him to do. Of course, she could be reading him wrong, and he was just mad. But she’d seen Mal mad plenty of times, and this was different. Having him look at her that way was amazing, empowering, and frustrating. “Then you stop,” she muttered.
He frowned. “What?”
“Looking at me like that.” She hugged herself. “If you’re not going to throw me on the bed and do what we both really, really want”—her voice broke—“you need to stop looking at me like that’s what you want to do.”
A sharp knock on the door made them both jump. “Get ready,” Finn said.
Olivia stared at the door then at Mal. He’d recovered. He didn’t look like he wanted to jump her now, he looked worried. She preferred the other. “What do I do? What should I bring?” Her head was spinning now, the reality of what was about to happen slowly sinking in.
“Nothing,” he said, finally closing the distance between them. “We go to the woods, you shift.”
“With Finn?” she asked, nervous.
“Yes.” His tone was hard.
“And Anders and Dante and Hollis?”
“Just Finn and I,” he said. “We’ll help you find your footing.”
“What do I wear?” she asked, tugging her nightgown.
“Nothing.” His mouth tightened. “You’ll be a wolf.”
“Right.” She grabbed the hand he offered, hating the fear that settled in the pit of her stomach. She was strong. Mal called her tough. And tonight, for him, she’d prove it.