Changed: 2 (Wolf's Den) (16 page)

Declan dragged his feet up the stairs, more exhausted that
he’d felt in years. So much for making it home in enough time to enjoy his
mate. The males from the other pack hadn’t just demanded their attention, they’d
decided to fight for it. Precisely as Jackson and Declan had thought they
might. Apparently a few of them thought they were strong enough to take the
pack from Jackson.

Not smart, although Declan hadn’t blamed them for trying.

He rubbed his cheek, relieved a nasty cut had started
healing.

Jackson hadn’t been able to hold them off, meaning Declan
had to watch the Alpha’s back. It hadn’t been pretty. For several hours they’d
had to wait for the next challenger to appear. Despite their waning strength they’d
pulled through. After the last asshole from Gavin’s pack had his ass handed to
him, the other males had finally caved and bowed down to their new Alpha.

In a way it was for the best.

The pack didn’t need this shit during the full moon.

Jackson retrieved the key Declan kept taped to the bottom of
a flowerpot on the porch, dusted it off and handed it over. “Here you go.”

Declan slid the key into the lock and tried to clear his
head. Once he opened the door the alarm would go off. Even if that woke the women
inside, he could make sure the annoying noise didn’t drone on forever. Before
he could put his plan to action he heard someone on the other side undoing the
locks. The door opened and Rachel appeared.

Her smile of happiness quickly vanished.

“What the hell happened?” She rushed forward, her fingers
carefully inspecting his wounds. In a split second she directed her attention
to Jackson. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Time for damage control.

“I told you not to open the door.” Catching her hands in
his, he stepped forward and forced her into the house. When her anger didn’t
lessen—telling him she wasn’t up for his teasing—he tried a different tactic.
“Take it easy, Rachel. He didn’t do anything.”

Jackson stepped in behind them. Before Rachel had only seen
his shadow. Now she got the full deal. She shut up, no doubt embarrassed when
she realized Jackson had it just as bad. Declan had made sure to keep things in
order—only letting the males go at the Alpha one at a time—but Jackson hadn’t
been so lucky. His cheekbone had been busted. Despite the substantial amount of
healing Jackson had done, one of his eyes was almost entirely black.

“I thought you said there wouldn’t be any fighting.” Chloe
didn’t sound happy, rounding the corner. “You said you’d never lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie. I didn’t think there would be.” Shooting
Declan a look, Jackson swept Chloe up and headed for the door. His mate’s hands
went to his eye, her expression concerned. “I’ll tell you about it in the car.
I’m ready to get home.” He gave her a fast kiss and exited through the house,
calling out as he went, “I’ll see you tonight. Call before you leave.”

“Close the door,” Declan requested softly. He didn’t want to
fight with his mate. He was too tired, in need of a shower and sleep. “I’ll
explain.”

Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed but she left him. He
discarded his jacket, tossed it onto the counter between the kitchen and the
living area and removed his shirt. As a werewolf he healed quickly but these
wounds would take longer. Each blow to his body had been delivered by others
just like him. Rachel gasped and he turned toward her. Her mouth opened and
closed, her gaze raking over his torso.

“Oh dear God,” she whispered and took a small step toward
him.

“A few of the wolves decided to challenge Jackson as Alpha.”
Bringing his hands to his jeans, he undid the buttons. His lust didn’t stir,
his body too sore and bruised for any sort of physical activity. Even if he
wanted to take Rachel to bed he wouldn’t be able to. He needed to sleep his
injuries off, give his wolf time to rest. “The fuckers look worse than we do if
it makes you feel any better.”

“What do you need?” Like a switch had been flipped, she went
from appalled to concerned. She hurried to his side but didn’t touch him. “Tell
me what I can do.”

He hoped she meant that.

“There are steaks in the back of the fridge. Can you pull
out two or three and put them on a plate?” Deciding it was best not to inform
her he was going to eat them raw, he said, “I’m going to get a shower and get
clean.”

“I can cook a steak.” She pivoted to go the kitchen. “How do
you want them?”

Shit.
So much for that. “I’ll heal faster if I eat
them rare.”

“How rare?”

“Completely,” he answered, too exhausted to continue the
conversation.

“Oh.”

He waited until he heard the fridge open before he made the
trek to the bathroom. Wasn’t this his luck? When he finally had time to be with
his female he was too shitkicked to do anything about it. He peeled his pants
off inside the bathroom and walked to the shower. He didn’t wait for the water
to heat, thankful for the cold against his skin.

Running his hand along his side, he inspected the rib that
had been cracked.

Still tender but definitely healing.

Bowing his back, he let the water drift over his head as it
warmed. It felt good to get the sweat and blood off him. He didn’t bother with
shampoo, scrubbing at the strands with his fingers. He tried not to think about
the pain, picturing his bed instead. Once he finished off the steaks he’d curl
up around his female and sleep.

The door to the stall opened and Rachel—naked as the day
she’d been born—stepped inside. He wasn’t sure what she was up to and felt
ashamed that he might not be able to perform if she wanted him to. For her,
he’d give anything a try. But he ached all over, his muscles sore and weak. She
retrieved soap and a washcloth stowed on a shelf built into the wall and, all
business, started washing him clean.

Her hands were just the way he liked them—soft and heavenly.

She started at his neck and worked her way down.

He was too tired to speak so he just enjoyed. She made sure
to cleanse all of him, tender as she worked about his rib cage. After she’d she
finished, she left the shower. He turned off the faucets and she reappeared
with a towel in hand. She’d wrapped another one around her lovely body. If
things had been different he’d have ripped it off and taken her to the floor.
He was weak but he still had fantasies, wanting to do so many things with his
mate.

“Let me help.” It wasn’t a request but an order. He stood
there, letting her pat him off. When she was satisfied she backed out of the
shower. “I want you to get in bed. I’ll bring your food. Come on.”

Bossy little female.

He considered swatting her ass but decided against it.
Another time he’d give her that, when they both could enjoy it. He didn’t
bother getting dressed, just moved to the bed. She saw his needs and reacted,
pulling the covers back. He sat on the sheets and moved his back to the
headboard. Once there he waited, giving his body a rest. The rusty scent of
bloody meat suddenly appeared.

“I didn’t know if you needed these.” Rachel stood right
beside him, holding a plate in one hand and utensils in the other. He couldn’t
help but notice her towel had loosened, giving him an ample view of her nipples.
Even though his body was injured, his cock rose at the sight. He wanted to
curse his shitty fucking fortune.

Reaching for the plate, he clarified, “Just the steaks,
baby.”

“Do you need anything to drink?” She handed it over along
with a napkin.

“I’d kill for a beer.”

She didn’t run from the room but she did haul ass. In an
effort to make things easier for her he called to his wolf, willing his teeth
to sharpen. As soon as his canines lengthened and he knew chewing would be
fast, he went at the first piece. Normally he ate slowly—even when he hunted
game with the pack—but tonight food meant fuel. He’d finished the first,
chomped down the second and started on the third when Rachel returned. She
avoided looking at him as she walked over and placed the bottle on the
nightstand.

“I had to find a bottle opener.”

He didn’t point out the lids came off with a firm twist of
one’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Uh.” She glanced at his fingers clenching raw meat and
looked away. “You’re welcome.”

Since he didn’t want to choke he had to make sure he gnawed
the last steak properly. He’d never been more aware of his nature. And he’d
never loathed it so much. He could sense Rachel’s tension, watching from the
corner of his eye as she paced from one side of the room to the next. He slid
the last bit into his mouth and retrieved the beer.

With food in his gut, he felt a hell of a lot better. “All
finished.”

She stopped burning a strip in his carpet, gazing over at
him. Her eyes darted to the plate he’d placed on the bed and she rushed to
collect it. He wanted to comfort her but didn’t have a chance. The instant he
lifted the beer to his mouth, she took off. He watched her—still only clad in a
towel—sprint away.

Closing his eyes, he nursed the beer.

She was edgy. Nothing he could say would help that.

All he could do was wait.

The ball was in her court.

Rachel put the plate inside the dishwasher and took a deep
breath.

Declan wasn’t human. He required special things. This was a
part of his nature.

I just hope it’s not mine.

He could eat all the raw steak he wanted but the sight made
her nauseous. She’d been fine in the shower, finding that she enjoyed taking
care of him. But as soon as he dove into the meat she’d been unable to look.
She hadn’t wanted to see or hear it.

Get a grip. This isn’t the end of the world. He’s hurt
and needs you.
She felt disgusted with herself all of a sudden.
You
probably hurt his feelings again. Idiot.

Drawing her shoulders back, she forced her chin up.

Declan didn’t need a weakling right now. He needed a woman
who’d care for him, accepting him exactly the way he was. Instead she’d acted
like a moron, unable to look at him, running from the room the minute she had
the chance. That wouldn’t work. They’d come too far to hit a roadblock due to
her fears and insecurities.

Adjusting the towel and covering her breasts, she marched
from the kitchen. After all the care he’d shown her she refused to give him
less. The hallway wasn’t as long as she thought, however, and she found herself
walking into the bedroom before she felt ready. She suffocated her discomfort,
meeting his gaze as she neared the bed. He hadn’t pulled the blankets up so it
was easy to see his cock remained semihard.

Her eyes darted up to his torso and she wanted to wince.

Dark smudges—
bruises
—marred his beautiful skin. His
ribs looked the worst, mottled and purple. She drew closer, her previous
hesitation gone. He was in pain and he was exhausted. There was something she
could do for him. It wouldn’t require any work on his part. It wouldn’t be easy—she’d
certainly want more—but she could give him something he needed.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” A faint
smile sweetened his features.

She dropped the towel, meeting his eyes. “You’ll see.”

He lowered the beer to his thigh, his irises lightening
several shades. She crawled over the end of the bed, her breasts touching the
comforter, her nipples hardening as they caressed the silken material. With a
soft sigh she continued forward, her attention on his cock.

“Rachel.”

Ignoring the warning in his voice, she wrapped her fingers
around the base. He hissed, bucking into her hand. “I want to do this for you.”
Winding her hand up and down his length, she added, “Relax.”

His position forced her to scoot up on her knees in order to
have the right angle. She nearly teased him, lapping at the crown, then she
decided it would be best to go for the kill. Over the years she’d heard men
liked to hit home base and drift to sleep right after. Sexually frustrated
women the world over bitched about it constantly. She took the tip into her
mouth and went to work, sucking and brushing her tongue along the bottom, using
her hands to make sure his entire length received attention.

“Damn.” He rested his hand on the back of her head. “That’s
good.”

Encouraged, she kept going.

She was able to take him deeper, swallowing when he bumped
the back of her throat. Her clit throbbed, her pussy clasping. She tried not to
pay attention, making sure to keep her breasts away from the sheets. Her
nipples were so sensitive the smallest bit of contact got her hot.

Declan tugged at her hair, trying to pull her away. “Come
here.”

She didn’t comply with the request, bobbing her lips up and
down his shaft. He was hard and thick, making her jaw ache. Just a little
longer and he’d lose control. She wanted to hear him come. He sounded so sexy,
a mixture of heavy groans and deep growls.

“I can smell how turned on you are.” The next yank—much
harder this time—got her attention. “Get up here and ride me before I flip you
over and fuck you like the animal I am.”

Lifting her eyes, she peered up at him.
Shit.

He’d put the beer aside. Even if he hurt he meant what he
said. She could see the tic in his jaw, the way his muscles flexed. His irises
were no longer human. She glanced at his hands and noticed his nails had
lengthened into claws. Shockingly, the sight didn’t scare her. Rather it
appealed to her wolf, sending a wave of blistering fire along the underside of
her skin.

“I feel like shit and hurt all over,” Declan confessed.
“Don’t make me ask again.”

A pang of regret stabbed her chest but she let his cock
slide from her lips. Since she was already on her hands and knees it wasn’t
hard to crawl up his body. She did so cautiously, making sure not to touch
bruised places. Stopping over him, she went up on her knees. He fisted the base
of his cock and grasped her hip.