Chapter Fifteen
Staring didn’t help. Not that he could stop. No matter how hard he tried, his gaze returned to her—homing in on her. For reassurance. And, dammit, after this morning—he needed reassurance.
Waking up—finding her gone… He was still recovering.
Panic didn’t quite explain it. Neither did fear. It was bigger than that. Stronger. More desperate. And it wasn’t going away. Even though she was right there, across the table from him, devouring pancakes like her life depended on it. Not in the least worried about whether or not he’d disappear on her.
What the fuck was he supposed to think? She’d made it clear she wanted to leave. Was he supposed to think their bond changed that? Did it? He didn’t know how any of this worked.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, man,” Mal whispered, nudging him in the side.
“Fuck you.” He growled.
“Wow.” Mal sat back in his chair and shook his head. “Here I thought you’d be in a better mood now.”
He glared at Mal.
“We thought we’d tour the Alamo?” Olivia jumped in, hooking her arm through Mal and giving him a firm tug.
“We did? Great.” There was no denying Mal’s sarcasm.
“We’ll pass,” Hollis said, his gaze drifting back to Ellen.
She kept chewing, sparing him a quick glance before taking another bite of pancakes drenched in blueberry syrup. A drop clung to the corner of her mouth. Blue and sticky. On her skin. Beneath the table he was hard as a rock. This was going to be a problem. Especially since all he could think about was licking it away—slowly and thoroughly.
“What about a riverboat ride?” Olivia asked.
“You lost him,” Mal answered.
“I appreciate the offer.” He did his best to smile at Olivia, he really did. But the syrup, on Ellen’s mouth, and the way her tongue traced her lower lip…
“You’re full of shit.” Mal laughed.
“Mal.” Olivia sighed. “Be nice. It’s a lot to get used to.”
Meaning it would get easier? Thank God.
“You’re used to this?” Mal chuckled, capturing Olivia’s hand in his.
So, no easier. Fucking terrific.
“You shared memories?” Ellen asked, pausing between bites.
It was still troubling her. Understandable, considering she wasn’t one to share anything with anyone. To have her past poured out for him, into him, had to be one big, jagged, nasty pill to swallow.
Mal studied her, then Hollis. “Yea. All that shit. The shared wound, the mental bonding—all that.”
Ellen stabbed at her pancakes but didn’t eat anything else. “It was expected then?” she asked, the accusation in her tone unmistakable.
Silence stretched out.
He stared at her, sifting through a variety of responses and knowing there wasn’t a single one that would diffuse her reaction. She was pissed. At him. Had he known what would happen? Yes, he knew. He’d asked Jessa and Olivia, Mal and Finn hundreds of questions—for scientific research. But in practice? Had he been thinking about anything other than getting that fucking asshole’s hands off of her? No. Not until he’d touched her.
After that, there’d been no thought or choice about any of it.
If he had a choice in any of this, would he have lost his fucking mind when he woke up alone? Fuck no. But it didn’t matter. He had—he still was. So much so that he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
She glared right back.
“You didn’t tell her?” Olivia asked.
Big mistake. He knew that now—for both of them. “I…I wasn’t thinking—”
“With your head? No shit.” Mal shook his head. “No wonder she’s pissed at you.”
“It wouldn’t have changed things,” Ellen said, her gaze falling from his.
What the hell did that mean? It hurt to breathe. From the fire in her eyes and the angle of her jaw, she meant it. No. She couldn’t. She kept pushing the fated bullshit—the magic. But lashing out was her way of protecting herself from hurt or punishment. It hurt like hell, her words, slicing deep and leaving him gasping. Even though he understood why she said it.
The damage Cyrus had done to her extended far beyond the scars on her skin. Fucking bastard. A vision of him and his colorless eyes filled his mind. The glass he was holding shattered, sending orange juice across the table and imbedding shards into his fingers and palm.
“Jesus.” Mal growled, pushing back from the table. “You need to learn how to control your wolf.”
“Fuck you,” he bit out, ignoring the truth in his words. Control? It didn’t apply to Ellen. And Cyrus? No fucking way.
“Are you okay?” Olivia was already pulling out the glass and wiping at the blood. “That one looks deep.”
“I’m fine.” He barely glanced at his hand, the taunt of her words and the remembered sneer on Cyrus’s face too much to shake. And he was shaking, his body, his muscles tightening in a wavelike ripple.
“Shifting in the middle of a hotel restaurant isn’t fine.” Mal placed a hand on his forearm, his hold bruising.
Part of him wanted to shake off Mal’s hold and fight him. Fight Mal? No—just fight. His blood was throbbing with rage, hot and alive and making his ears ring. The ripples were stronger now, and a tugging ache settled in his joints. A cold sweat covered his back, making his shirt stick and his skin prickle with awareness. Every sound was amplified.
Mal’s whispered curse.
Olivia’s rapid breathing.
Ellen’s heart. He’d recognize it anywhere. Strong. Fierce. Accelerated, but steady. And her scent, weighted with aggression and irritation. “Breathe, Hollis. Focus.” It was her voice. Frustrated and impatient. But her, nonetheless. And he responded to it. That other part of him, the new part—the wolf part.
“Here.” Olivia shoved a glass of water his way. He downed it, wanting more.
“I get it. Neither of you are ecstatic over the whole mate thing.” Mal kept his voice low, calm. It was a struggle. “And it’d suck to be stuck with someone I didn’t like—but there’s no going back now. For either of you.”
Going back? His gaze settled on the woman he was inextricably tied to for the rest of his life. She was his. Her temper and passion, her brilliance and wisdom, her loyalty and brutal honesty. All of it. All of her. She would have fought her instincts if she’d know what he’d learn. She would have fought her wolf, who she was, to keep her secrets.
The only sound was the drip of blood on the laminate table. With a sigh of pure frustration, he wound a linen napkin around his hand and sat back in his chair.
“I like her,” he argued. Like wasn’t the right word. If he had it his way, they’d created a whole new dictionary of words for their alternative lifestyle. None of his words—human words—seemed to do this life or these emotions justice.
Her eyes narrowed.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke softly, his throat tight.
“Get used to saying that,” Mal whispered. “A lot.”
Ellen was studying him. Intently. His face. His eyes. His mouth. They lingered. Her teeth sinking into her lower lip and driving all his blood south. “I’m done eating.” Her voice was husky. “Are we going to play in your lab today?”
He’d play with her anywhere she wanted.
“If you change your mind, we’re one phone call away,” Olivia said, waving her phone.
“Here.” Mal grabbed his hand and shoved a box into it. “Biggest box I could find.”
He frowned, staring at the box. Condoms.
Fuck.
Something else that had totally slipped his mind. And hers. And… Fuck.
…
He’d apologized. Instead of an act of weakness, it had been an act of respect—for her. And the wrong he felt he’d done. Wrong or not, it was unintentional. He’d been just as lost in the fire between them.
But now that they’d made their way back to the privacy of his suite, he wasn’t pressing her against the wall or dragging her to their bed. He was standing, staring, out one of the large windows that lined the far wall of his room. Agitation rolled off of him.
“What is it?” she asked, wishing they were more in tune.
With a sigh, he slammed a box on the dining room table.
“Condoms?”
He glanced at her. “We weren’t careful last night.”
“No, we weren’t.” She needed to be closer to him. “We were what our wolves needed us to be.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his sigh beyond exasperated. “Jesus, Ellen, you can’t write off the biological potential of what might have happened last night.” His tone was cool, clipped—the tone he used when he was working. “I know what Cyrus wants. If you…if we…” He stared at her stomach so long her eyes were burning.
The urge to breed was inherent. Even when she’d been used by Cyrus and the pack, the thought of a child had never bothered her. But time passed and she began to accept the truth. “If I were able to bear children, I would have. Cyrus was relentless with me. Perhaps it’s because of what my body has endured, but I can never give you a child.” She’d never said the words aloud. Once they were out, there was no taking them back. And now they hung there, weighing down the space between them. No matter how dismissive and blasé she tried to sound, the waver in her voice told another story.
Eyes pressed shut, his forehead thunked against the plate glass, a rough groan tearing from deep inside of him. “I want to kill him.” He pushed off the glass and spun, staring down at her. “I’m going to snap.”
There was nothing to say. She knew what he felt, the thrum to hunt and fight and kill could be crippling and dangerous, for him. His wolf had every right to be free, but it should happen under more controlled circumstances. One in which power was balanced—man and beast. Not now, when the wolf was trying to take over.
But she knew how to deal with his wolf: distract him.
“I know what will help,” she offered, closing the distance and pressing herself against him. The shuddering clench of his back muscles beneath her touch revealed how hard he was struggling. “More sex.”
He was laughing then. Laughing and dragging her into their room—with the box of condoms.
“I require you naked,” she said, unbuttoning his shirt.
He shrugged out of his shirt as she tugged his pants off. “Impatient?” he asked, his erection straining against his boxer shorts.
She stripped, trying to stay upright. “Yes. I miss the feel of you inside me,” she whispered.
He groaned and crushed her to him, his arms lifting her just enough to carry her to the bed and dump her onto the mattress. She was laughing when he tugged her to the edge of the bed.
“Condoms.” He was panting, hovering over her to roll one on.
She didn’t argue. Instead, she propped herself on her elbows. Just looking at him made her tighten with want. Beneath his conservative business attire was nothing short of masculine perfection. Big. Thickly muscled. Hard angles and rugged beauty. The broad expanse of his chest tapered to a narrow waist and hips. She leaned forward, eager to run a finger down the ginger trail that extended from his belly button to the rigid length of his erection. Her fingers brushed the impressive length, wrapping around him, and pulling a low moan from her chest.
She was pressed flat, Hollis over her, his hands holding hers against the mattress.
The wildness on his face had her wolf panting. The raw need. The lack of control. That’s when his wolf was most evident. Her wolf whimpered, hungry for him—hungry for his wolf. Seconds later, he was sinking deep—their joint moan bouncing off the hotel-room walls. There was no tenderness or technique, just drive, and she welcomed the way he claimed her. He let go of her hands to lift her hips. She cried out, swollen and sore from the night before. Her nails bit into his back and she held on, reeling from the intensity of his invasion.
“Ellen?” He worried over her, even now.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, arching into him.
He moaned, resuming his sweet assault on her willing body. It didn’t take long. She clenched around him, blissful as she fell apart in his hold. It began again almost as soon as it ended. He let go, slamming into her, driving her hunger into a quick peak, until she was coming again.
He climaxed with a roar, straining against her, every muscle rigid. Watching Hollis reach his release was liberating. This man was hers. And she pleased him. When he leaned forward to rest his head on her breast, she ran her fingers through his tangled copper curls.
“I could do that all day,” he rasped.
“Do we have plans?” she asked.
He looked at her, smiling. “I could cancel them.”
She shook her head. “I’ll let you leave the room. For a while,” she teased.
He laughed. “I need to finish up a few things at the lab.” He hesitated, as if he was going to say something. But he didn’t.
“And then?”
“Whatever you want.” He kissed her breast, his tongue teasing the tip.
Her nails bit into his scalp. “You keep doing that and the lab will wait.”
“It can wait.” His tongue continued, making her writhe beneath him.
His mouth worked wonders, thoroughly exhausting her until she dozed into a blissful, weakened state. She woke to an empty bed. “Hollis?” she called out.
He wasn’t there. His scent was faint.
She stretched and kicked back the blankets. Her wolf was content to lie in bed and wait for him, but she was restless. His clothes still covered the floor. She scooped up the shirt he’d discarded the night before and slipped it on, burying her face in the fabric and breathing him deep.
Hollis.
Her mate. Had her wolf ever been so satisfied? Ellen could not recall. Her wolf assured her the answer was no—but then her wolf was ridiculously pleased this morning.
That her lover was talented was an unexpected delight. Of course, Hollis was a detail-oriented man. So very detailed. So very talented. Each remembered stroke and kiss, his hands on her skin, the exquisite weight of him buried deep inside of her made her body tighten and flush. It took her breath away. And made her ache for him. Now.
“Hollis?” Where was he? She was on fire for him. Again. She hadn’t expected this…this craving. Constant. Heady. Warm and throbbing. Unbearably delicious anticipation kicked in.
She made her way into the bathroom and paused.
There, on the counter, was a box of medicine. There was no note. But there was no need. The label said enough. Morning-after pill. The words, “stops pregnancy before it starts,” jumped off the box. Aggressively. She picked up the box, read over it, and set it back on the counter.
It was a plain white box with bright-green letters. Green like Hollis’s eyes.
Her wolf growled, adding to her unease. She walked out of the bathroom to pace the length of their hotel room. But it didn’t stop her mind from racing. He was worried, of course, and now that he knew what Cyrus was capable of, what choice did he have? Knowing what Cyrus would do to Finn’s children—to their child, if there was even the slightest chance one had been conceived—it was too great a variable. He didn’t do variables or take risks. He was a man of science and facts and proof.
For him, this was a guarantee.
She marched back to the bathroom and pulled the blister pack from the box. It was a blue pill. Nothing else. The pack had pointy edges, the foil and plastic crinkling. It grated her nerves. She glared at it, sat it on the counter, turned off the light, and left the bathroom again.
She tidied the room, hanging Hollis’s things in the closet and packing the rest into the bag he’d emptied onto the floor last night. Mal’s gift of prophylactics lay on the floor beside the bed. She stared at the rumpled sheets and twisted blankets, the sweep of his fingers on her skin, his lips on her breasts, his breath on her inner thigh…she shuddered. Last night had done something she’d never expected. It had given her a reason to trust and hope, dangerous words until now. But spending the night wrapped up in each other, lost to the newness and rightness of this bond, had left her with no choice. Her wolf—she—was his.
And trusting him was the only option she had.
The pill waiting on the bathroom counter told her how he felt. So had the fact that Hollis had gone to get it. He couldn’t risk it—her. It was important, too important to ignore a moment longer. She walked slowly back into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and read the box again. The words were straightforward and easy to understand. And horribly ominous.
She read it silently, then aloud, “‘The pill temporarily stops the egg from releasing, keeping sperm from having access to the egg and preventing the act of fertilization from taking place. This pill can be used up to five days after having unprotected sex. Use early for best results.’”
Unprotected sex. Preventing pregnancy. Factual information. Cold, clinical, and horrible. After years of aching for a child, such notions were wrong. She had Hollis. He was her mate. And if she could conceive, something she’d accepted was impossible, his child would be a joy to grow within her body and raise together. Her hands pressed against her stomach.
Her wolf growled.
Was this what Hollis wanted? Or was this his way of protecting her?
She stared at her stomach. Safe didn’t exist. Cyrus would die—at her hand or by one of Finn’s pack. How could she give up the chance, however slight, of having Hollis’s child?
Because now isn’t the time.
She and Hollis had time. She tore open the blister pack and poured the small blue pill into her hand. It lay there, so blue and bold it made her skin crawl. Her wolf growled. She was not happy. As far as she was concerned, this was wrong.
This wasn’t her world. She believed in magic and fate and destiny. This, taking this, went against everything she believed in.
The thump of her heart was audible. A light sweat broke out on her upper lip. The longer she stared at it, the more certain she became that this was the right choice. She tossed it into the toilet before she could change her mind.
With a flush, the water swirled and the pill disappeared.
She shoved the wrapping into the box, tossed it into the trash, and stared at her reflection.
Her wolf was happy.
She sucked in a deep, cleansing breath and leaned heavily against the counter, relief seeping into her bones and spirit.
Hollis would be, too—if the impossible happened—she had to believe that. No regrets. No going back. It was done. If it was meant to be, it was right.
She turned on the shower, waited for the water to warm, then stood under the jets until her tension eased. It would be a good day. As would all the days that followed. She’d been given a chance to truly live again, thanks to Hollis. Being his mate gave her purpose beyond Cyrus and the Others.
This was a new beginning. A mate.
And a pack. That realization had her wiping soap from her eyes. A pack. She’d been connected to them before, irrationally protective of Finn’s mate and children. Now she understood. Her wolf had known—they were her pack, they had always been her pack. And watching over them was what pack members did: take care of one another.
Dante would have a shit fit. She could imagine his face—and it made her burst out laughing.
Finn’s pack was strong in a way they had yet to realize. If only they could see themselves as they were. Strong, proud, warriors. Protectors. Defenders. Not the monsters they believed themselves to be. If they could own their power and find pride in it, nothing could stop them. Or defeat them.
She climbed out of the shower to find Hollis leaning against the doorway.
“Something funny?” he asked, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe.
The smile on his face filled her with joy. And guilt. Dammit. Her gaze darted to the trash and the empty box. Unless she told him, he’d never know what she’d done. He’d made his position clear and she’d agreed. How could she explain why she’d thrown it away?
Thankfully, he was far too distracted by her nearly naked state. His gaze was nothing short of predatory. Her wolf approved.
“Good shower?” His words were gruff and deep. Delicious.
She nodded, running the towel over her short hair before dropping it on the ground. Her arms slid around his waist as she pressed her still wet body against his perfectly pressed and starched slacks and shirt. “You could have joined me.”
“I’m dressed.” He growled, staring down at her. “A requirement for leaving the hotel room.” His gaze settled on her lips.
“We’re leaving?” she asked, stretching.
“I’m rethinking.” His nostrils flared.
She loved the power she had over him. Loved the hunger he had for her. “No. The sooner you get your work done, the sooner I can have your full, undivided attention.”
He cleared his throat but didn’t argue. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched her dress. She played with him, making a production of sliding on her lacy G-string and matching bra—something she’d never have worn before now. But the look on his face was reward enough for her discomfort.
Until she found herself standing around his cold lab, growing more on edge with each passing moment. Since he was working on something other than the vaccine, she set aside her reservations and watched him work. He was proud of what he did here, and he should be. She’d read the framed articles that lined the halls of his building. RPR did cutting-edge research that led to truly groundbreakin g discoveries and vaccines he distributed globally. Hollis wasn’t just important to the pack, he was important to so many. She didn’t know how to feel about that. She respected him, admired him—but she wasn’t ready to share him.
Hollis was bent over his files, his tousled curls falling onto his forehead. How had this man become so important to her?
Some questions didn’t have answers, they just were.
The longer Hollis pored over his papers and numbers, the harder it was to ignore the hum in the air. The vault. Whatever was inside called to her. There were answers there, if she was brave enough to confront them.
She was no coward. “Hollis,” she murmured. Her wolf paced, curious. His wolf reacted—instantly gaining Hollis’s attention.
He stood, spinning to see her. “What? What’s wrong?”
Knowing their wolves were already working together made her smile. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “Let me in,” she said against his lips.
He pulled back, a furrow forming between his brows. “There’s no reason to put yourself through it—”
“There is. I feel it.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I can’t ignore it.” Her brows rose. “Mate or no, don’t try to shelter me from something that needs to be done.”
“It needs to be done?”
She nodded.
“I can bring things out. It might be easier?” he asked, still concerned.
It was an option. One her wolf quickly dismissed. She refused to be intimidated, she was, after all, a fearsome beast. “What harm can come from a room full of things?” She headed to the door, waited for him to open it, and tried to shake off the sharp tingles brushing her skin.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his fingers on the keypad.
No, she had doubts. But her wolf would not be deterred. She nodded.
He unlocked the metal door and pushed it wide.
This time she was prepared. Leaning heavily against the concrete walls helped her stay upright. The roar of noise and voices greeted her. Loud, yes. But not hostile. There was no threat here. She pushed off the wall and into the room, taking the hand Hollis offered just in case.
“Low lights,” he explained, letting her set the pace. “Some of the documents are photosensitive due to age.”
She nodded, her eyes adjusting to the dim room. Her equilibrium was off, so she stopped, thankful for the strength of his arms around her. She waited, her gaze wandering around the room. A long, low table and several chairs were the only furniture. The rest of the room housed display units, drawers, and cabinets.
One drawer drew all her attention—all her focus. It called to her, knew her. The pressure on her chest increased as she moved toward it. She gripped the drawer handle and pulled it wide.
On a background of black velvet lay the necklace. Her necklace. Her hand shook as she reached for it, caressing the fine, leather cord between her fingers. Her wolf longed to howl, to roar with pleasure—and despair. The voices of her pack crashed into her, the floor tipped, and she fell.