Page 44 of The Alpha's Warlock
“Humor me?” I propped myself up on my even sharper elbows, and he grunted. But he didn’t shove me off or bitch at me. Huh. Okay. Maybe he had a point, but still, I was on a roll now. “Humor me? You’ve been such a dick!”
Ian scowled at me, the force of it blunted a little by the way his hand was curled protectively around my hip. “You really think that ‘You’re an asshole, and I don’t like you, and you’re an idiot, Ian, and I’m going to steal your favorite socks and whack you with magic so hard you pass out and hit your head, so make me some coffee’ would work on someone else? Really?”
“But that’s not —” I bit my lip, and he raised one eyebrow pointedly. “That’s not — okay, that’s kind of what happened, but it’s not — all right. Yes. That’s kind of what happened.”
“That’s exactly what happened, and you know it.”
Thatwasexactly what had happened, and I did know it — and why was I arguing, when Ian was only proving how much he cared about me? That was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
It was what I wanted, and it’d been six hours or so since I promised myself I was going to be the best mate any alpha could have: sweet and supportive and complimentary, and not a bitch at all.
Fuck, most people’s doomed New Year’s resolutions lasted longer than six fucking hours. I sucked at this.
“Look, it was the bond,” I said, trying for conciliatory, and ending up somewhere closer to patronizing. “I know you can’t help it. So it doesn’t count.”
“Can’t —” Ian did shove me off then, flipping me over onto my back and leaning over me, eyes flashing. “Can’thelp myself? What the fuck, Nate? You think the bond turned me into some kind of zombie? It doesn’t take away free will! Maybe it would’ve made mewantto make you your stupid fucking coffee, but it couldn’t force me to do it!”
“Oh,” was all I could come up with, as everything I’d thought about him did another double backflip and came down looking totally different. If it wasn’t the bond…fuck, if it wasn’t the bond…horribly, my eyes started to prickle with tears.
I believed him. Finally, I believed him. Part of me had been stubbornly refusing to admit that Ian could possibly, truly, wantme, all of me, enough to not just fuck me into the next time zone but also bring me coffee in bed. Voluntarily.
“Yeah,” Ian said. He didn’t sound happy. “Oh. Yeah, you have me wrapped around your fucking little finger. And now I’m never going to be able to say no to you, because you’ll always know it’s bullshit.”
I reached up and gently rubbed my thumb over his lower lip. He kissed it, even though he was still glaring daggers at me.
That was it. I cried uncle. “I’ll try not to abuse my superpower too much, okay? Because I —” I was going to be sick at the thought of saying what I really meant. But he had too much on the line for me to play hard-to-get now, even if I’d wanted to.
Which I kind of did, on general self-protective principle. But I wouldn’t.
I tried again. “I don’t want to break the bond. I want to stay with you. I’ll try so hard to be,” I swallowed, “better. Okay? I promise.”
Ian pulled my thumb between his lips and nipped the tip of it, hard enough to make me squeak and jerk it away. He chased it, kissed it again, and then leaned down and kissed me, long and deep.
“You’re going to abuse it every day,” he said resignedly, nuzzling into my neck. “That’s all right. You’re already better than I deserve.”
No, I really wasn’t, but I’d take it. I’d take it, and be grateful. I kissed his temple. “You too, Ian.”
Part of me, the needy, greedy, petty part of me that was soaking up every bit of his affection like a neglected garden that hadn’t been watered in years, wanted to press him: ask him if he’d really almost said he loved me earlier, make him adore me until I was blooming with it. But not now. He thought I was better than he deserved, and just this once I’d try to prove him right.
It was at least another hour before we untangled ourselves and started to get ready to go see the pack council, an hour of quiet, untroubled kisses and touches and secret smiles.
Maybe we both deserved it, even though it turned out we were both idiots. I wasn’t going to complain.
Chapter 24
Being Mated Isn’t All Bad
“A love spell? Are you fucking with me right now? What do you mean it’s fucking permanent?” Ian was shouting again. He’d been shouting pretty much since we got to the pack house, first at the council, then at Matthew, and now at Dor, who’d called half an hour before and said he had a few pieces of information for us.
Like the fact that Matthew had been under a powerful, insidious love spell for the last few months.
Cast by the shaman we currently had in custody in the pack house’s basement, where he was wrapped in a pile of magic-dampening chains courtesy of Dor’s secret stash. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see Dor’s collection ofobjets, or was fucking terrified.
Maybe a little bit aroused.
My inappropriate reactions aside, Ian and Dor — thankfully minus Charlie, who was off dealing with his injured vamps, because Charlie was exactly what Ian’s blood pressure didn’t need — were facing off down the hall from Matthew’s bedroom. Matthew was also locked up in there, under the baleful, watchful eyes of two of his least sympathetic councilmembers. The hallway was as dingy as the rest of the place, with faded mint-green paint on the walls and floorboards scratched up from decades of wolves scampering around. It made the shack seem welcoming by comparison.
“This isn’t really my area of expertise,” Dor said calmly. “Human emotions aren’t my preferred medium.”
