Page 60 of Wolf's Redemption

“Condoms are latex—a stretchy, waterproof material and it’s shaped…well… It fits over your cock when we have sex and protects us both.”

Ulrik stared down at his cock. It shriveled a little at the thought of covering it with anything, at the idea of a barrier between his cock and her warm, wet heat.

“I know this might seem like a foreign concept to you, but in the future we have things to protect against unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases.” She glanced down, the evidence of their union glistening on her thighs. “I have a contraceptive implant—something to stop me having babies—and it’s good for another two months—but a condom helps stops any nasty diseases that can infect you through body fluids.”

He grasped her by the hips, ignoring her squeal of protest, and lifted her onto his lap. “Do not fear, Rebekah. You aresafe with me. Regardless of thisimplant, or our lack of con-doms, there is no risk of either pregnancy or disease.”

“Is that a shifter thing?”

Shifter?He thought for a moment. Ah, yes. Someone who could shift forms.

“It is a werewolf thing, yes. Werewolves can only procreate with other werewolves. As for disease, our werewolf blood destroys anything detrimental to our health and survival.”

“That’s handy.”

Ulrik slid a hand up from her hip to her breast, certain the literal translation did not apply, but determined his hands would not be idle. Not when he had this beautiful woman in his lap. He slipped his other hand down to her inner thigh, but she pushed it away.

“I’m all sticky.”

The evidence of their union, of his scent on her, pleased him, but he would forgo that delight to have her again. “Then before I feast myself on those wondrous breasts of yours, I shall wash you off.”

He grinned, lifted her off his lap and tossed her through the waterfall and into the pond. She shrieked, hitting the water with a splash and sinking below the surface. Ulrik jumped in after her, landing beside her as she came up spluttering.

“You bastard.”

She laughed, wiping water from her eyes and smoothing her hair back off her face.

From the tone of her words, and the splash of water she shot in his direction, she was not questioning the legitimacy of his birth, rather cursing him. She splashed him again, laughing, and dove away as he reached for her. She was not fast enough, and he scooped her up in his arms and pulled her into his embrace. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and her arms around his neck.

His gaze dipped to the black material still partially covering her breasts. He reached up and fingered it. “This thing has to go.”

“My bra?”

She laughed again and he rejoiced at the sound. His life of late had held little laughter.

“You’re such a boob man.” She reached behind her, fiddling with the clasp and the garment fell away and she slipped the shoulder straps off her arms. “Happy now?”

Oh, yes.He snatched the offending garment from her and tossed out into the pond. It sank below the surface.

“Shit. I need that.”

He slid his hand across her wet and slippery breast and thumbed her nipple. “No, sweetness. All you need is me.” He walked her to the edge of the pond and laid her down in the shallows, water lapping at her sides as he nestled between herthighs. With a throaty moan, he buried his face in her lush bosom.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Renaud paced the chamber beyond the sacristy, plotting his next move. He doubted he could lure his informant to another meeting. What would they have to discuss? With d’Louncrais dead, the chevalier had achieved his objective. He grimaced. With Ulrik Voclain now free, he was no closer to his. Even if it were possible to convince the chevalier to meet, the man would be leery after the successful capture of Voclain.

He paused by the window. One of the brutish twins leaned casually against the outer wall of the bailey, watching him. Aubert? Edmond? Did it really matter which? The twin tilted his chin at him, and Renaud scowled. The twin tipped his head back and laughed. Edmond. Aubert had but one facial expression—a perpetual snarl.

Renaud turned away from the window. A black-robed figure stood in the doorway. Renaud glared at the angelic face of the young eveque. Everywhere he went—the keep, the chapel, the village—Faucher followed, monitoring his every move. The mere sight of the man irritated him. When would he leave Langeais? He had thought to order the eveque to other duties far from here, but for certain Faucher had instructions that repealed any command of his. Renaud needed a distraction. If he could use one problem to rid himself of another…

He repressed the smile threatening to form on his lips. “Come in, Eveque Faucher. Your timing is impeccable. I believe I have some information that may interest you, given your proclivity for the dark arts.”

The impudent git looked wary. “Less than a sennight ago, you ordered me to put aside such foolishness. What has changed?”

Faucher was wise to be suspicious. Renaud had a lifetime of scheming and manipulating people to his advantage. Faucher had not. He was young and overconfident in his abilities. To Renaud, he was merely an inconvenience and, perhaps now, a useful one.

Renaud touched his hand to his brow, allowing it to shake a little. “Forgive an old man his bad temper. I do not react as well to change as I used to. Come and take a seat. Perhaps I was a little hasty. It seems new information has come to me, and you may be the best to handle it.”

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