A Guardians Passion (6 page)

Freya reached out and ran her hand over his arm, up to the hard curve of his shoulder. He was tense, muscles bunched like boulders. “Was that all? You scared the shit out of the girl.”

“I scare most.”

No shit
. Fenris caused the surliest of werewolves to wet themselves. To think that he had shown Benna even a glimpse of what his rage could do alarmed Freya. The situation was out of control. She scooted closer before folding her arm around his waist. Her swollen belly was pressed against his warmth and bulk. “You don’t scare me, you know, and you won’t be scaring Bun either. Damn, Fen. Don’t take out your anger with me on her.”

“I like the name Fenrir.”

“Excuse me. What?”

Fenris relaxed against her, releasing a low sigh. His eyes drifted closed as he savored their contact. As if forgetting his self-imposed restraint, Fenris placed his claim upon her ass with the breadth of his hand. “I like Fenrir for our son’s name.”

“I haven’t decided on that yet.”

He groaned. “There is so much to do, Freya. So much that needs to be taken care of.”

So remain here
, were the words that she knew he meant to say. It was hard to deny him, with the sudden puppy-dog eyes he was sending her way. Freya had known from the start that she could lose herself in such an alpha, and while she considered giving in to his wish, she couldn’t. The dread of wild emotions, of ignorance, was too large a foe to face unprepared. “Now look, you scary motherfucker. It’s just going to be a week, and I’ll be back.”

“Freya, Rayne and I could at least escort you back to America.”

“Well, I have Benna as an escort now, thanks to you. Why are you worried so much anyway? You don’t think I’m strong enough to protect myself, our son?” she dared to ask, fearing his answer. “You really do think I’m weak, don’t you?”

Fenris shook his head, squeezing her tight. “Freya, no. No, I don’t, baby. But I am. I need you. Rayne needs you. We—”

She stopped him, her heart straining under the weight of guilt, which was proving to be one of the biggest adversaries she had ever faced. How could she leave her males so vulnerable, so bereft? What did it matter that she had once been not only independent but a protector of others? What did all her skills as a warrior mean? Not a damn thing when compared to her pack. She was supposed to be selfless, wasn’t she? With a cub on the way, she was supposed to have tucked away her weapons and her independence, at least for a little while. When she left the States, Freya had given control of her outfit to her second in command with the understanding that she would return at some point, but nothing had gone as planned.

Freya closed her eyes as if that could dampen the confusion stirring behind them. “I remember that liberal-ass contract you and Rayne wrote up when you came at me with caveats for me living here and in the States. How would that ever have worked?” she wondered.

Fenris wrinkled his nose as if the idea was too foul for him to recall. “Fuck that.”

“Hush. Just because you can tame me, just because you have already, do you really have to lord it over me? Bully.”

He tried to hide the upward tick of a smile, but his eyes showed Freya all that she needed to know: he loved to have his power acknowledged. He tried to disguise it in the crook of her collarbone, working a series of kisses up to her jaw. “Aww, love. I don’t mean to be.”

Freya cursed herself as his lips met hers, soft and gentle, wet pecks she might have mistaken as coming from their more submissive beta. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly he could dissolve her thoughts and ignite a flame within her.

Fenris moved his hand down her back and found the waist of her pajama bottoms. He slid his fingers between her ass cheeks and lower. He shifted on the bed, bringing the heat of his cock against her thigh, as if she should know that it was there and needed attending.

Freya wrapped her fingers around the prodding width. Gently, she stroked the silken flesh over iron muscle, her palms brushing the dripping tip. In a matter of seconds, he had gotten her to think about opening to him, for him.

He might not have meant to subdue her, but his consciousness sure as hell hadn’t gotten the message. Hers had as he suddenly grabbed her thigh and tried to fit her leg over his. Sleep pants or no, she would have no protection if he succeeded in getting his cock against her pussy. The itch to have him would lead to nothing but weak limbs and oversleeping. Being a werewolf gave her heightened senses, strength, and healing, power everywhere but where it counted, where she was most vulnerable—inside.

Freya eased back in Fenris’s hold. She gripped the crown of Fenris’s cock and twisted slowly back and forth, savoring the sound of her alpha’s rumbling growl. Immediately lax, he became as pliable as dough within her alpha’s iron embrace. “Thought you liked being mated to a warrior who could defend herself?” she asked.

“I do. Oh, I really do, baby.”

“All right then. Be nice. Be patient.” It was a command she had to give to herself as well as him. Freya released her hard, hot, leaking prisoner and brought her fingers to her tongue to savor the necessary nightcap of Fenris’s precum. “Once Bun is born, you are so going to get it.”

Fenris’s mouth fell open in anguish. “I…I have to wait until then?”

She nearly laughed at the horror upon his face, but the realization that he was truly worried stopped her. “No. Just for the version of me that can recover from being fucked through the goddamn mattress.” Reluctantly, she turned over. She fluffed the pillows beneath her head and yawned. “Fuck if I don’t have shit to do tomorrow.”

“What if I kinda like you a little swollen and helpless?”

Freya winced as the idea was both appealing and appalling to her.
What if I kinda like being vulnerable? Not
. Freya shook the idea from her head, determined to address it only when she arrived at the retreat. Her first question would be: Is this normal? “See. That’s the kinda shit I worry about,” she grumbled. “I do need that retreat.”

“You don’t,” he countered, but his voice had none of the fury it had possessed in the past. She wondered if he silently agreed.

Hot breath warmed the back of her neck. “Freya, I swear if anything happened to you, I would lose it.”

“Nothing is going to happen. No males are allowed, so there will be no posturing or scrapping, no tournaments. Besides, the Sohons have security up the ass. It’s almost safer there than it is here, if you want me to be honest. No fights to break up, no drunken wolves to pull out of the hot tubs, no bravado other than wobbly chicks and wailing cubs.” She yawned, allowing the jets of her arousal to cool beneath the desire for a sound rest. She reached back, searching for his arm to pull over her. “Wanna snuggle?” she offered to ominous silence.

“Not really.”

Freya couldn’t decide if he was sighing or if it was a feeble attempt at begging. Still, Fenris complied.

The bed shifted again as Rayne turned over, revealing his bright, alert eyes. “I do,” he said, moving to spoon into Freya’s open arms. Wondering if he had been awake all along, Freya knew that she had made the right decision to abstain. Tending to one always meant taking care of both. The second she had given in to Fenris, Rayne would have been right there, needy and seductive, absorbing the remainder of her resistance and helping his alpha convert her to goo. Holding on to her beta and being held by her alpha, Freya prayed that the retreat would help her to be okay with such notions.

Chapter Four

As Freya stepped out of the limousine, which Benna had insisted upon arranging, it finally hit her that she had not been dreaming. She truly was back on American soil. Throughout the flight, her mind had been on the awkward good-byes said to her mates. She had known that her leaving would be painful for them; she just hadn’t expected how difficult it would be for her.

Fenris had been tight-lipped, barely able to meet her eyes before she had left the lodge, yet when she had hugged him, getting free of his grip had been like trying to break through titanium. Rayne had fussed over the contents of her luggage, asking if she had included all the oils, lotions, vitamins, and nausea prevention he had made for her. Even he had held her close a little too long and tight.

She had never considered herself the overly sentimental type, but leaving her mates had brought about more than a tear or two. Freya wondered how much chaos they would cause until she returned. Knowing that she carried their child with her had proved some comfort but not as much as she had grown to want.

Of the many properties owned by the wealthy Sohon Pack, Freya had to admit that none were slacking in the realm of extravagance, and their Miami property was a gem. She gazed up at the large white mansion with its open porches, vaulted windows, and high white columns framed by palm trees and sweet-smelling flowers. The place was stunning. A broad yet short staircase led up to the main porch, and double doors, open wide, were framed by giant pots of plump flowering cactus. The sound of waves beating upon the beach just behind the complex was like a siren song, freezing her in place with her hand still upon the car door.

Swift footsteps caught Freya’s attention, and she noticed two males approaching from the front entryway. One was a slender Caucasian, pale with spiky red hair, and the other a golden-brown-skinned male with closely shorn black curls. They moved quickly to the back of the limousine, where the driver had already popped the trunk. Under Benna’s orders, the werewolf omegas unloaded Freya’s two suitcases and Benna’s five. With delicate dips of their chins and gentle smiles, the two easily shouldered the weight.

Before Freya could mount a protest to handle her own luggage, Benna was at her side, ushering her forward to the stairs. “They’ll have the luggage in our room before we finish check-in,” she promised.

Walking beside the smaller were, Freya looked down at Benna’s crown of copper curls. “I could have carried my own shit, you know?”

“Yeah. But you don’t
have
to here. You’re not here for an arm-wrestling contest. Did
you
know?”

Freya snorted, wondering why she couldn’t have been so lucky, especially as she moved into the main lobby of the mansion and went into shock. She had expected to see a few wobblers, but there were swollen bellies everywhere, females with nervous cubs, some shifted and in wolf form, others knee-high and wide-eyed balls of mischief. Freya had never seen so many of her own sex gathered in one area, not even at the pageant…and nearly half of them were pregnant.

Freya drew in a deep breath. Not one of the females seemed to possess the worries that haunted her. They were all beaming and proud. She heard laughter and saw smiles wherever she glanced.

The only males in the lobby were omegas, weaving across the floor with baskets of fruit and freshly washed veggies and chicken skewers for the mothers. For the cubs, they offered fruit, jerky snacks, and meatballs. Some of the females were in line—four rows altogether—but the majority were occupied in greetings and posturing, from what Freya could see.

Freya moved into the third line, the shortest as far as she could tell, the moment Benna noticed friends and stopped to greet them. Considering the scene around her, the women seemed to be alphas, and by Freya’s guess, they had probably made it a point to attend every Sohon function they could. Many had an air of wealth about them, dressed in flowing, light maxidresses or flowery sarongs. Freya considered her own attire: tan, drawstring cargo pants and a white, overly stretched wifebeater with Timberland boots. She had never felt so alien and out of place.

This was a stupid idea, she thought.
Warriors don’t need fancy soirees to breed. They steel themselves for what is and what has to be done!
her mother might have said. But then Geraldine was from the old world. Freya wasn’t ambivalent; she knew that the Sohons were responsible for uniting a great many of the werewolf packs, and that in turn, they had cultivated the rising nobility and strength of their breed from feral, fearful beasts to cunning, powerful bloodlines. The Sohons extended aid to those packs in need and connections to those who wanted to make their place among humans in the New World.

Freya didn’t begrudge them as she moved forward in the line, but domestication was nothing she could swallow easily. As soon as Bun was born, she vowed to spend a week or two in combat with her males. Can’t wait to spar again, she thought, in a real fucking match.

“Well, well. Ms. Daniels. It’s good to see you back among us and so soon.”

The matronly, accented voice snapped Freya from dreams of wrestling holds. At the front of the line, Freya discovered Helena Sohon, the very same silver-haired were who had accepted Freya’s contract with Fenris and Rayne some seven months before. “Never left you apparently.”

A wry smirk creased Helena’s lips, and she raised her chin with a prideful arrogance. Typing away on a keyboard, Helena looked to the monitor built into the panel. “You’re working with us as far as I’ve heard.”

Freya glared at the elder were, wondering what secrets the Sohon databases held.
Probably have my birth certificate, favorite whiskey brand, and bra size
. “Every werewolf works for you, as far as I know. You’re the fucking mafia.”

“We don’t do bounties, however,” Helena replied. She placed a decorative card with a pregnant woman silhouetted against a full moon into a small coder on the desk before handing it to Freya. “We don’t take out contracts or extort the unwilling, but then neither do you at present.”

Freya drew back, ready to curse the woman to nine shades of hell and back, but Helena was swift with a diversion. She slapped a thick folder onto the counter and slid it toward Freya. She pointed at the card. “That is your room key. Inside your packet is a map of the facility, itinerary along with descriptions of the events, listings and coupons from the vendors who will be in attendance.

“Your gift bag will be in your room, 120, which is in the Palm Wing on the first floor. To get there, you just head down the hall to the left and make another left,” she instructed with her well-manicured hands. “You’ll be sharing a room with the Eversham matriarch.”