Page 17 of Wounded Mate
We pick at the food, and itisdelicious, but it does little to sate my hunger. I squirm, uncomfortable in not one but two layers of clothes when I’d much rather be naked. And washed. And kneeling between his spread thighs, mouth open, tongue?—
“Are you all right?” His voice, much stronger today, remains gentle, and he watches me as if I’m the fragile one, not him.
“Yes, sorry. Only distracted.” I roll my shoulders and rein in my desire. Were he any other man, I’d offer myself, but I’m afraid the act, any act of a sexual nature, would mean more to him than it does to me.
And I won’t be unkind in that way.
He leans in. “Can I touch you?”
My body screams yes, but my mouth, traitor that it is, says, “We need to talk.”
His shoulders cave forward, and his expression clouds. “Of course. I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting this. Or you. Or?—”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. There are things you should know about me before you go getting all attached.”
He flashes a sad little smile. “Too late.”
That’s what I was afraid of. I soften toward him. “Do you know where you are?”
“Pest? In Hungary. Near the river.”
“Yes, but more specifically?”
“This is your room. I can tell by the scent. You smell amazing. But I wasn’t paying much attention to the rest last night.”
I let out a deep breath, but my body doesn’t relax. My muscles are tense. I fold my hands in my lap and resist the urge to stare at them instead of Bela. “We’re in a brothel. Where I work.”
I’m not ashamed of my life. Far from it. I’m proud. I’m excellent at what I do, and I enjoy the work. But this poor man thinks I’m his mate. In no way is an incubus well suited for a werewolf.
His brows knit as he takes this in and parses out the meaning. To my surprise, his only response is a lift of his shoulders and gentle acceptance. “Very well.”
I blink. My mouth hangs open stupidly. That’s not the response I was expecting. “I’m an incubus, Bela.”
“An incubus!” He widens his gaze, and his whole face lights up. “Wow. I was wondering and couldn’t quite figure it out. I’ve never met one before. Wasn’t even sure they were real. But here you are. My mate is an incubus.”
He says all this as if it’s good. Welcome, even.
Though the last thing I want to do is snatch away his happiness, he hasn’t seemed to grasp the implications. “We aren’t usually monogamous creatures, but werewolves are. That’s why I’m so confused when you say we’re mates. It’s in my very nature to have multiple lovers.”
That does it. His expression crumples. “You’re…already taken? In love with someone else? Multiple someone elses?”
“Not as such, no. There’s no one special. I’ve never had anyone special.” His relief is obvious, so I keep pushing. “But, Bela, this is a brothel. I take clients. To my bed. That’s how I feed.”
He frowns, and his gaze shifts to the platter between us. “You said… Earlier, you said you were starving.”
“Yes.” I see it all starting to click for him.
“But you’ve hardly touched the food.”
“No.”
“Then you meant, you mean you’re hungry for?—”
“You.”
His jaw drops open, and if I weren’t lusting over him so desperately, I’d laugh at the realization plastered across his face. But not meanly. It’s adorable. He’s adorable. I wish things could work out between us, but I’m afraid we need different things from life.
He shifts in his chair, trying to cover his obvious arousal. “I want you too.”
