Claiming His Need (18 page)

And she was mine.

The wolf side of me agreed with the human perceptions, liking the way our mate moved, especially the sway of her hips. The needs of the wolf were much simpler than the man—eat, sleep, fuck, fight. Not necessarily in that order. And right now, with my mate so close I could smell her sweet scent, those instincts were focused on the fucking.

At the end of a sharp turn in the path, we came to a small clearing. A huge stone pillar rose straight above us, piercing the evening sky, and shading the entire area. The Rites cabin sat quiet in the lee of the rock, protected by the giant piece of stone.

The collection of rowdy shifters grew quiet as Kaija and I stepped onto the wood deck that served as a porch. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her into my side.

“Thank you, Valkoisus pack, for welcoming me onto your land and allowing me the great honor of taking this beautiful, wonderful creature as my mate. I can never describe the joy I have found after four hundred long years without her.” I looked over the crowd once more and grinned. “Now leave.”

The pack laughed and offered us one more cheer before turning and going back the way they came. My Breed brothers stayed, though.
 

“That means you guys, too.” I tried to look stern, but I was too happy to get much more than a grimace out before my smile took over once more.

“We’re going.” Sandman stepped forward with Pup at his side. “Shadow wanted to be here, but he’s working with Doc Booth to help reset a few of Magnus’ bones.”

He turned his attention to Kaija. “We welcome you to the brotherhood of the Feral Breed, Kaija Wariksen. While you have not pledged our club or chosen to vie for membership, we have given you a road name for all you’ve done to save one of our most honored and respected club members. Be proud, be brave, and be feral…Princess of the Feral Breed.”

Kaija grinned. She looked up at me with so much joy in her eyes, I couldn’t resist. I crashed my lips to hers for a heated kiss before smacking her on the ass.

“Go ahead.”

She rushed toward Sandman, jumping at him when she was near enough.

“Thank you so much.” She hugged Sandman with abandon, and he took the affection in stride. But when she moved on to aggressively hold on to the younger Pup, he turned beet red and looked like he didn’t know what to do with his arms.

“Easy there, Princess.” I stepped off the porch, not wanting even the few feet between my mate and me. “I don’t think Pup is used to such attention.”

She smiled at me over her shoulder as Pup rolled his eyes.

“I get attention from females. I’m just not used to ones so…short.”

I laughed as Kaija growled and wagged her finger at the shifter. “You’d better watch it, young one. I’m not afraid to turn you over my knee.”

Sandman snorted. “He’d probably like that.”

The group dissolved into laughter. We hadn’t been able to relax and just be brothers for too long, not since Magnus had come aboard to run the club. It was a good feeling to once again laugh and joke with my brothers.

I didn’t look forward to telling them I would not be returning to Detroit.

“Okay, okay. How about we let the lovebirds get on with their bonding?” Sandman gave Kaija one last hug before strolling my way. While my mate was distracted by the attention of saying goodbye to Pup, Sandman pulled me slightly to the side.

“We’ll be on the north and east sides of the cabin—close, but not too close. The Cleaners are stationed south and west, though we only have them for the night. Starting tomorrow, they will be pack wolves handpicked by Rex. No one will get near you, my brother.”

I nodded and shook his hand. “Thank you.”

“You would do the same for any one of us, and have guarded many a newly mated pair over the years, Gatekeeper. There are no thanks necessary.”

I nodded, knowing he was right. Pup and Sandman soon said their goodbyes before heading off into the woods. I was alone…in the woods…with my mate. And I suddenly had no idea what to do next.

“We’re finally alone.” Kaija looked up at me with a soft smile on her face.

Shaking off my nervousness, I gripped her hand. “Come, my mate. Let me love you for a while.”
 

I swung open the door to what would become the place of our first coupling. Entering the cabin before Kaija, I surveyed it for her safety before allowing her to follow me inside. It was exactly as I would have expected—clean and simple, with no walls to separate the living areas from the bedroom. A couch, two chairs, and a small table were all the furniture in the seating area, a round kitchen table on one end serving as the dining room. There was a small walled-off section at the back—the bathroom, I assumed.
 

But it was the bed that was the most impressive.

Massive was the only word to describe it. The headboard ran from the floor almost to the ceiling, an intricately carved wood sculpture to sleep under. Or not sleep. The mattress was bigger than any I’d ever seen—large enough to fit two or three couples easily. There was a footboard in the same style as the headboard, hand-carved with scenes of the mountains and forest that surrounded this land. The entire thing took up almost a third of the cabin, leaving very little room for the single nightstand and rocking chair in the sleeping area.
 

Kaija froze when she saw the bed, her eyes wide and her face slack. I understood her sudden fear. We had barely met, knew very little about each other, yet we were expected to use that bed for the next three days to satisfy our…needs. Sure, we’d been building up to what was to come with our time alone, but the sight of the bed put an extreme amount of pressure on the both of us.
 

This was one of the few times in my life when I realized just how fucked up being a shifter could be.

“How would you like me?” she whispered, her voice uneven. I sighed and ran a hand over my face. Four hundred years old and I felt like a virgin pup on his first go with a woman.
 

Instead of answering, I pulled her into my arms and rested my cheek upon the top of her head. She shivered in my hold but returned the embrace with a sigh on her lips. I ran my hands up and down her back, loving the way my fingers pressed into her flesh, the softness I encountered at every dip and swell. This was my mate, the woman who completed me, and I needed to make sure she was comfortable before I claimed her as such.

The scents of other wolves from the pack were on her skin and in her hair, ratcheting my anxiety higher. I needed her clean, I needed to make sure she was not injured from the day before, and I needed to get the blood of her captor off my body before I ripped my own skin off in a fit of jealous rage.

“Come,” I said, holding out a hand. It took her a few seconds of internal debate, but finally she placed her hand in mine. I smiled at her, hoping she could see how much I wanted to take care of her, to make sure she was happy and healthy and whole.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s time to take a shower.”

A shower...my mate wanted to bathe with me.
 

I took a deep, shuddering breath. The night felt much more important than I had thought it would, the pressure of getting everything right immense. Instead of throwing me on the bed to have his way with me as I thought he would do, Gates wanted to wash me. I had no idea how to process that.

Once we were in the bathroom, he turned to me, those ice blue eyes tracking my face as if cataloguing my features. At the heated desire on his face, I relaxed. He made me feel beautiful with nothing but a look, made me feel vibrant and desired. There was no need to be nervous.
 

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, his voice more growl than ever. My whole body trembled, impatience and desire interwoven and leading my emotions. With no response needed, I pulled my scarlet cloak over my head. I was left in nothing but the lingerie I’d thrown on in haste before leaving for the burning—a simple set made of white lace with pink trim. There was nothing necessarily sexy about it, but the innocence of the colors spoke to my human side. He’d seen me bare more than once, had his tongue and fingers inside my body. Covering myself with the lacy, flimsy fabric had somehow seemed sexier than baring myself once again.
 

His eyes slid down my body, his approval obvious in the way his face flushed and his breathing increased. But when I pulled a bra strap over my shoulder, he stayed my hand.

“Wait.”

I froze, anxiousness and the animal need his darkened look made me feel warring with each other. “Why?”

He shook his head and took a step closer. “You’re so perfect for me. Strong and confident, yet still soft and sweet. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of for a mate.” He reached up and pulled his cloak over his head, standing before me in nothing but the faded denim he wore underneath. “You are this pristine, beautiful gift the fates have given me. And I intend to unwrap you properly.”

With shaking hands, he slipped his fingers under the straps of my bra and drew them down my arms. The fabric fell, catching on the upper curve of my breast. Gates stared at where white fabric met my soft flesh, eyeing the darkened skin of my nipple peeking over the lace. He swallowed hard, and then brought his hand up to run his finger down the swell of my breast. My skin pebbled under his touch, the need within me growing hot and bright with every second that passed.
 

“So pretty.”
 

His whispered confession calmed me in ways nothing else could have. It was honest and pure, something sweet in a moment filled with desire. He wrapped one hand around my waist and pulled me closer, pressing us together as he used a single hand to unhook my bra.

“You’re good at that.”
 

He smirked as he pulled the fabric down my arms and tossed it to the side. Once my breasts were fully bared to him, he took a moment to hold me before dropping to his knees. He slid the white panties down my thighs, letting them pool at my ankles.

“Up.” He pulled on one ankle. I lifted my leg for him and he guided the fabric off my body, repeating the motion on the other side. And when he was done, when I stood naked and wanting before him, shivering with the restraint needed to keep from simply attacking him on the tile floor, he sighed.
 

“I will never deserve you.”

“Try.” My answer was automatic, something unstoppable and true. I hadn’t meant it as a challenge. Still, his eyes darted to meet mine, shocked and uncertain. I gave him a small smile as he peered up at me, willing him to understand the meaning behind my answer. How much I believed in him, how desperately I wanted him to find his worth in our relationship. How I wanted us to be equals.
 

Finally, after several seconds of eye contact that might have been more intimate than any touch he could have offered, he sighed and rose to stand before me.

“I will.”

I nodded my acceptance of his simple promise. No words were spoken as I unbuckled his belt and pulled the leather through the belt loops. His fly was next, the buttons sliding free with a single tug. I kept my eyes locked with his as I pushed the denim over his hips. There was nothing sexual about what I was doing. The way he watched me, the feel of his skin under my fingers, the trust to stand naked in front of a person who was practically a stranger––no, my care for him wasn’t sexual. It was intimate, something beautiful and unique. Something only the two of us would only ever have together.
 

I sank to my knees before him. I was his and he was mine, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure he knew that. But right then, he needed me to take care of him. To cleanse him and to allow him to cleanse me. To show him how much I wanted him in more ways than sexual ones. To give him a chance as a man.

I ran my hands down his bare legs, past his knees, and over his calves. His muscles clenched as my hands passed over them, the only sound in the room that of his harsh breaths. I helped him step out of his jeans, running my hands back up his legs as I rose before him.

“Bathe with me.” My statement came out on a whisper of air, but there was no doubting my request. Gates grabbed my hand and led me into the shower where he turned on the taps and let the hot water flow over us.
 

We washed each other slowly, carefully, with great attention to detail. Every inch was mapped and memorized, every curve and dip explored. I washed the reminders of the past day from him. Mud and blood and everything else ran down his body to the drain as I scrubbed. Shoulders, chest, back, arms, legs—I cleansed him. Renewed him.
 

The wounds from the battle the day before had nearly healed, but it was the signs of past injuries that made me frown. The subtle shadow of bullet holes, lines that could only be caused by blades and claws, textures that weren’t like what skin should be—the man was a walking road map of a long and violent life. The tattoos he wore softened the look of the scars, adding color and elegance to my roughened soldier. I spent extra time dancing my fingers across the lines and flourishes, reading the words, honoring the gentle-looking woman he’d chosen to etch into his skin.

He sighed as my hands slid from his waist around to his bottom; he shuddered as they came around the front to stroke his hardness. I didn’t linger, knowing this was not the moment for such things. But I wanted to. Long and thick with a slight curve up, just the sight was enough to make my knees go weak.

And then it was my turn. Gates washed me well, running his hands all around my hips and thighs, bathing my feet and ankles with as much care as my breasts. But what made me shudder and groan, made my nipples harden and my body throb with desire, was the feeling of his fingers as they carefully washed and conditioned my hair. Gentle and slow, he pulled out every tangle, made sure every lock was clean and soft.
 

When he was done, when he’d rinsed the last of the conditioner out of my hair and simply held me by my shoulders, his eyes grew dark, his face serious.