Chapter Eighteen

The first night he'd met Ashley, Blake had taken her to a cheap motel.

Their alpha brought them to a fucking penthouse.

Maybe not a literal one, but everything in the room was new and crisp and shining. Blake felt grubby and out of place, raw even though the bruises from his fight had already healed.

Then Lucas left them alone, and that was even worse.

Ashley sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, her hands folded between her knees, staring at the dark television. "I didn't come here to upset you," she whispered. "Or, Christ, I don't know. Maybe I did."

Blake peeled his shirt off before the blood could dry and tried not to catch his own reflection on the way to the pristine bathroom. He scrubbed quickly, roughly, dirtying the sink the way he dirtied everything else.

He owed her an explanation. "If I'd known you'd come after me, I wouldn't have..." What? Run? He'd had to. Fight? He'd had to do that, too—though he'd ended it fast enough when it meant getting her away from Ivan and Dex.

"Wouldn't have what? Let Lucas know where you'd be?"

He gripped the bathroom door frame. "I wouldn't have gone somewhere dangerous. I left to keep you safe."

"Safe from you?" she asked softly.

It was the one thing he'd promised her from the start. Safety from the world. Safety from the pack. Safety from his needs. "Yes."

"Well...thanks, but no thanks."

He stared at her. "You can't just say that. You don't understand."

She rose and faced him. "I know that if your idea of keeping me safe means you're going to ditch me, then I'd rather take my chances."

He wasn't the only one who healed fast. The bruises around her throat were so faint they could have been shadows. The evidence of his mistake would vanish, just like the interlopers' bodies.

It was so, so tempting to let himself forget. "I promised I'd take care of you. That I'd put you first."

Her expression was somber. "How are you going to do that if you're not around?"

"Better than I'll be able to if Lucas—" Mates you. He tried to force the words out, but even that was too much. "I can't, okay? I can't do it."

"I never asked you to." Ashley took a step forward, her hands flexing as if she wanted to reach out. "I don't want him, Blake. I don't love him."

If he touched her, it would be over. He gripped both sides of the door frame, the wood groaning under his fingers. If he touched her...

Night after night, he'd reminded himself that every kiss, every caress, every second was about her. It had to be, because every night could have been his last with her. Every morning might have been the one where he had to let her go.

If he touched her now, he never would.

She didn't move. Barely breathed. "Talk to me."

"I can't," he whispered. "Ashley, I can't. I'm losing control."

Pain flashed across her face, and she looked away. "Because of me."

"Because I love you."

For a moment, she just stared at him. Then her breath hitched on a sob.

Wood splintered. He'd destroyed the door frame, but he didn't care because he was moving. He wrapped his arms around her, and it was too late to take back the words, to take back his touch. He buried his face in her hair and dragged her scent into his lungs.

And he stopped lying to himself. "It's killing me, Ashley. Not having you is killing me."

"Then don't." The words feathered over his neck, soft and tempting. "Don't let me go."

"It's selfish." The words were the right ones, but he'd lost control of his body. Holding her felt right. Stroking one hand up into her hair and the other down to the small of her back felt right. "Someone else might be your mate."

"Only if you give up on me." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his jaw. "After everything, how can you think it wouldn't be you?"

Even the simplest kiss left him hard. "Because if wanting was enough, I would have mated you the first night."

"We didn't know each other yet." Her mouth skimmed his ear. "Love each other."

He'd loved her yesterday, too. He'd loved her, and wanted her, but he hadn't been willing to believe he could have her. She'd given him everything—her openness, her vulnerability, even her submission. He'd taken it, selflessly, like a martyr...

And he'd held himself back.

The door beeped and opened, and Lucas swore. "Shit. Let me get my bag, and I'll be out of your hair."

Ashley was warm under his hands. The mating heat, still seething beneath her skin, still primed to break over her without warning. If she didn't find a mate soon, it would fade, and that would be that until her cycle came around again. They could be lovers and partners. They could live as mates, and he could satisfy her urges as they rose, ignoring the fleeting frustration when they connected on every level but the most primal one.

Or he could give Ashley's wolf what it needed one last time—proof that Lucas might be the alpha, but Blake was the one with a claim to all of her.

Ashley loved him. The rest of her just needed time to catch up...and he needed to trust her as much as she'd trusted him.

Dragging in a deep breath, Blake put his heart in her hands. "Do you want him to leave, sweetheart?"

Ashley's eyes went wide, and her arms tightened. "I'd rather have no mate than one who isn't you. I mean it."

Blake tilted her chin up, forcing her gaze to his. "I believe you," he whispered, brushing her lips with the pad of his thumb. "That's why I want him to stay. On one condition."

Lucas groaned. "Blake..."

Blake ignored him. "Be sure, Ashley. If you let us both into your bed, only one of us is getting back out. You'll be stuck with me. And I'll be done sharing."