Red and Her Wolf (23 page)

When she could see again, he was kneeling. Big, beautiful body draped in shadow and gentle spills of moon glow. Those golden eyes were on her face, her body. Anywhere they touched she felt hot, exposed.
Restless beneath her clothes.

“I
canna
sleep.”
His deep burr made her body flare with heat and need.

Violet squeezed her thighs, hoping the pressure might stop the tingles radiating between her legs. It only made it worse. Heart trapped in her throat, she could barely manage to whisper,
“
You don’t need to kneel.”

He stared at her, seemed like hours, but was likely only minutes, and then he was standing and she saw everything. The fine dusting of black hairs smattered along muscular thighs, abdominals so chiseled she was tempted to run her finger along it just to make sure they were real.
Dusky skin with tight brown nipples.
She saw other things too.
A big thing, stiff and frightening looking.
But even while it scared her, a part of her wondered what it might feel like inside her.

It couldn’t be all that bad. There were too many people in the world.

Her mouth was dry.

The whole time she’d studied him, his eyes never left her face. She felt that gaze like an imprint, it bore through her skull. “Why do you look at me like that?” she stammered.

“Because
yer
fair bonny, Red, and sometimes I’m afraid if I blink,
ye’ll
disappear like ye did before.”

She tipped her head up to look at him. There was heat in his gaze, but there was more. So much more, she had no idea how to describe it. It made her feel warm, safe, desperate, desired. But mostly, it made her long.

“How do you know, Ewan?”

The mattress dipped as he sat so close the heat off his body emanated against her bare toes. Paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t move, even though she desperately wanted to. She wanted to crawl to him, wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to help her.

All she could do was watch, and breathe.

“Know what?” he asked in that exotic scratchy burr and heat spiraled thick and heady through her stomach, resting between her legs.

It was on the tip of her tongue to beg him to go back to his room, that this was too much, too soon. That she still wasn’t sure how to let go of the past--stupid as it was--but
Alice
words were an echo in her ear, so she mustered the last sliver of strength and whispered, “That it was me?”

His fingers twitched, like he wanted to touch her, but knew if he did she’d flee.

“Because it is.”

There it was, so simple, and so difficult at the same time. “Even knowing how I feel? What if I can’t ever let this go?”

His smile was wistful.
“
Doesna
matter.
I’ll never force myself on
ye
, Red. But I will always guard ye, protect ye with my life. That is what a mate does.”

She chuckled and he cocked his head, brows drawn in confusion.

“You’re a masochist. You would pledge your life to a woman who might never be able to touch you, or do the things for you a mate should.”

He leaned in, full lips a feather’s kiss from hers, irises narrowing to twin slits for a second. She went still, prey in the predator’s sight. But it wasn’t fear that rolled through her, it was desire. A yearning so intense she licked her lips.

“But I
doona
think, it’ll come to that. Ye want me, Red. I smell
yer
desire all over
ye
. It’s hot and potent and the wolf is hungry.”

She hadn’t realized she’d begun to lean forward until she almost fell when he pulled back.

He laughed and then standing, held his hand out to her. “Come with me.”

Sweat trickled down her back, her neck. Violet was terrified to touch him, terrified because she feared if she did, she’d pull him on top of her and beg him to do things no man had ever done to her before.

“Where?”

“
Yer
hot, the Hatter is fond of his springs.”

“
A midnight swim
?” She lifted a brow.
“With you?
Alone?”

“Aye.
Aye.
And aye.”

He didn’t give her a moment to think about it, latching onto her wrist, he yanked her off the bed. Within seconds they were down the hall, in the living room, and then exiting the front door. Violet glanced over her shoulder.

“Won’t they know?” she whispered.

“
Doona
care.”
He marched briskly toward the pond she’d noticed earlier.

Heart racing, pulse thrilling at the thought of swimming with him beneath a large moon and no one else about, she almost skipped along. Then they were there and he was already naked and she knew he expected her to strip in front of him. She stared at the dark, burbling water. Fireflies twirled along the water, their lighted golden dance moving in perfect synchronization. Cattails swayed, and it all looked so magical, too beautiful for words.

It was pretty perfect.

“You shouldn’t look,” she said, cold fingertips under the band of her jeans as the anxiety riddled her gut, twisting it up in knots.

White teeth flashed. “
Doona
take long.”

Then he dived into the center, a graceful arc that cut clean through the water, barely causing a ripple.

Violet kicked her shoes off and quickly shucked her jeans off next. Not sure how long he’d stay under; she stripped her shirt, bra, and underwear off. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. Hadn’t she only been thinking mere minutes ago about the possibility of never being able to let go of the past?

But the thoughts were fleeting, she jumped in, bracing for the cold.
Shocked when it wasn’t.
It was a hot
spring,
the bubbles were everywhere, tickling every inch of her bare body. Violet bobbed along the surface, turning and frowning when he didn’t resurface.

Then a strong hand grabbed her ankle and yanked, she smiled as she slipped under for a second. Reveling in the warmth, but it didn’t last. Within seconds she bobbed back up to the surface. She could never stay under long. But then his hands began a slow slide up her calf, her thighs, and the chill of the breeze was again replaced with heat. He moved so gently and expertly, that she couldn’t stop the moan or the wash of goose bumps tracking her skin.

Something soft brushed her navel, and she was almost positive it was his lips. Her stomach flopped to her knees as he finally broke through the surface. Her hands brushed along his smooth broad chest and she gripped onto his biceps, latching her nails like daggers into the muscle. He didn’t wince or flinch. The water ran in rivulets from his hair down his face, full pink lips parted and she bit her own, even while her tongue danced behind her mouth.

“The Hatter’s waters are magical. Ye can breathe below. I tried to bring
ye
down to see his treasures, but ye bob, Red.”

She nodded. “I know. I can’t sink. I’ve tried.” Violet continued to worry her bottom lip, she never talked about this with anyone, wasn’t sure she should trust him. But she wanted to. She took a deep breath. “I’ve got bad blood.”

Large hands framed her face.

“No, it’s true.” She grabbed onto his wrists, reveling in the texture of callused thumbs running softly along her cheeks. “I always wondered why. It’s not normal. My Aunt can sink. Even Grandma could.
But not me.
Then I read about the Salem Witch Trials.”

“
Och
, lass.”

She shrugged out of his grip and bobbed backwards, feeling exposed and unsure. “That’s how they tested if you were a witch.”

“It was a failed experiment, Red.” His black hair glistened, and her fingers twitched.

She loved touching soft things, wanted to touch him. But she felt vulnerable and that made her angry.
“Because they weren’t witches!”

“Nor are ye, Red.” His eyes were kind.

“I’m something. I have dreams, horrible dreams.”

Violet wrapped her arms around herself. The night was far from chilly, especially in the warm waters, but she couldn’t stop her teeth from clacking.

He didn’t come closer, which only annoyed her. What was wrong with her? She wanted him to go away, but yet she hated when he was gone.

“I dream about violence.
Killing things.”
She was a dam, and the confession was the crack in that dam. She couldn’t stop it now. Wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore anyway. “I like cutting myself. The pain is pleasure for me. It feels good.” Violet glanced at her open palms, smooth as a baby’s butt. “I should be covered in scars. Do you know how many times I’ve done it?”

“Lass, don’t--”

“No, you don’t! I’m sick of never being able to tell people about me. Of always pretending like I’m okay, I’m not okay. I feel that darkness in me, it spreads through my body. It’s already poisoned my heart. I want to hate you. It hurts that I can’t. It hurts that I want to know you, touch you,
feel
you.”

Ewan started swimming closer and she held up her palm.

“Don’t touch me.”

He swam closer.

“I mean it, Ewan, just go away. I’m a freak, I’m bad. You don’t want me as a mate.”

His hand grabbed hers,
then
his fingers softly slid between her own. He placed their closed palms against his chest. The firm beat of his heart a steady thump-thump against her hand.

She shuddered, heat built behind her eyes.

“Do ye ken what I see when I look at ye?”

She turned her face, and he turned it back with a finger under her jaw.

“I see eyes bluer than the sky after a good hard rain.”

Her lashes fluttered.

Threading a lock of her hair around his finger, he gave it a gentle yank. “And hair more golden than
Rumplestiltskin’s
straw.”

He lifted their twined hands to his lips and pressed a firm kiss against the tip of her finger. It was like someone had connected a live wire to her brain, every nerve in her body flared to life. Humming and zinging against one another in a chaotic motion of desperate need.

Ewan kissed her next finger, and the next, until he got to the webbing between her
thumb
and gently sucked on it. Each pull tightened things down low, made her ache and want to cry.

“I’m sorry, Red. If I’d been there, I would have kissed it all away.
Yer
beautiful, lass.
My heart aches to look on
ye
, to see that pain and ken I can do nothing for ye.
Doona
cut
yerself
again.”

“But the urges…”

He shook his head, his eyes like a beacon in the dark, dark night. “Use me. I’m a wolf, I like being bitten.”

She licked her lips as her teeth began to ache. What would it feel like to bite him? Could it possibly satisfy the urges she felt?

Ewan cocked his head to the side, exposed his neck. A large vein throbbed just beneath his skin. He touched the spot. “Do it.”

Violet gave a self-effacing chuckle, humiliated at her desperate desire to do just that, work the flesh beneath her teeth, her tongue.
“I… no.
No, I can’t do it, Ewan.”

“Do it,” he growled, his voice nowhere near as gentle as before. The wolf demanded and goddess she was so tempted. The vein pulsed, throbbed.

“I… I…”

His large hand gripped the back of her head, lowering her. There was a deep, rumbling moan and Violet had no idea if she’d made the sound or him.

She licked his
collarbone,
the slightly salty taste filled her head, her nose. He shuddered and then she bit him. Sank her teeth in, but unlike when she cut herself, she didn’t break skin. She rolled him around in her mouth, her tongue tracing the contours of his taut vein.