Page 92 of Wolf's Reckoning
“No,” I said quietly. “You’re not listening. Your pack needs to see us united. This is how we do that.”
She turned. Slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what I already said. If I have to bleed to make them believe you are mine, I will. If I have to.”
She stared at me like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to slap me or kiss me. Hell, I wasn’t sure either.
“Do I have to?” I asked her in a low voice. “You didn’t seem to mind too much…” I turned toward the back of the house that led to the bedroom. “Don’t even think about sleeping on that couch. You sleep beside me, inourbed, or you don’t sleep—that’s the only choice you get.”
Her voice followed me, brittle and biting: “You’re full of shit, Wolfe. You’re not doing this for the pack. You’re doing it because you’re a controlling bastard.”
I paused at the threshold, glancing back just once. “Control is earned. Being a bastard was a bonus.”
I left the bedroom door open. I went to the bathroom and started the shower. In the two days since Killian had found this house, the pack had worked tirelessly to make it habitable. Killian had been correct; the bones of the house were fine, the rest was cosmetic.
The pipes had needed minor repairs, the wiring had taken a little longer, and the cleaning had been made light due to the amount of pack that helped. It wasn’t fully restored, but the bathroom, the bedroom and the kitchen were in order. The rest would follow.
As I stepped under the spray of hot water, I felt the pull of her—through the wall, across the silence, beyond the damn void that was created between us all those years ago.
Iwasbeing a bastard, making her sleep beside me, butthis pack needed to smell my scent all over her. They may not have followed her as their sole leader, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t their precious princess of the pack. I could toy with her, as she called it, but I think she’d be surprised at how quickly most of this pack would rise to defend her if they thought she wasn’t willing.
Shewaswilling, she proved that in the forest. But…that didn’t mean Icouldn’tplay with her, just notbreakher. Plus, it would be fun. I remembered how eager she was in my arms, and bit back my groan.
This was going to be a long night.
When I came out of the shower, a towel around my waist, she was already lying on the top of the covers, in the thinnest, sexiest black satin nightgown I’d ever seen.
“What is that?” I asked before I could stop myself.
She looked down. “My nightdress…why?”
Temptress wrapped in satin and lace. “What happened to the flannel bottoms and inspiring slogan shirts?” I asked, forcing myself to sound casual.
“Um…I’m not seventeen anymore?” Rowen arched an eyebrow. “Anyway, it’s too warm for that. Those are winter sleepwear.” She looked down at her chest, a finger running along the curve of the lace, and I knew she knewexactlywhat she was doing. “Problem?”
Sneaky wife.
“Wear whatever you want,” I told her, holding her eye. “Wear less if it makes you more comfortable.”
“We’ll see how I feel,” she said easily, returning to her book. “I have shorts and camis, but I didn’t pack everything.”
She called my bluff and I was fucking speechless at thethought of her in tiny sleep shorts. I could feel her smugness as she read her book, and I forced myself to move and get ready for bed.
She wasn’t as immune as she appeared, I noticed, pretending not to catch glimpses of me as I moved around the room.
But I wasn’t sure which one of us won the silent contest, because I was having difficulty keeping my eyes off her, so to call her on sneaking peeks at me would make me a hypocrite.
I would not bite, I told myself. The control was mine. Not hers. I usually slept nude, but with her lying there in hardly anything, and the taste of her lingering in my mouth, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide my hard-on. I was glad I’d pulled on sleep shorts after my shower.
They wouldn’t help. This night would be torture, and I was going to suffer through every second of it.
The scentof bacon hit me before I stepped into the kitchen—smoky, familiar, and definitely not expected. I hadn’t stocked the fridge since I moved in because I hadn’t really moved in yet. Plus, I wasn’t a breakfast guy. I was an “eat on the move” kind of guy.
Which meant that not only was Rowen up, she’d made herself comfortable. I stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame, arms crossed.
She didn’t glance up. “Kitchen’s neutral ground,” she muttered, flipping a strip of bacon with more aggression than necessary.
“Didn’t say a word.”
