Lycan Redemption (12 page)

“Tell me about him,” Galen encouraged.

“He was five years older than me. He always watched out for me. Took care of me. Protected me like any good brother would. But I can’t say I’ve ever known anyone as accident-prone. By the time I was ten, he’d broken his arm, leg, nose, several ribs, and had had many other injuries due to mishaps. Nothing he really ever caused. Just bad luck, I guess. We all laughed and told him he was cursed. We even had a name for the curse: the Travisty.” She laughed and then swallowed hard.

“I thought he’d finally outgrown it a few years after he’d graduated high school. It caught back up to him six months ago. He worked his way up from the line to manager in a manufacturing plant. The workers loved him. He took care of them. Listened to any complaints they might have and tried to find amicable solutions. Treated them like family. One day there was a problem with one of the machines. He went down to help. It was shut off, every safety precaution had been taken, but somehow there was an electrical surge. The machine turned on. It took his arm off, and he bled to death. It was a freak accident.”

“I’m sorry, Myka.”

“Thank you. As the days roll by, I learn to cope with it a little better, but there are still days when I wake up and expect a phone call from Travis. And poor Patrick. Travis loved him something fierce. They were close. After Patrick’s mother left when he was a baby, Travis stepped up, and Patrick became his whole universe. It was hard for Travis at first. Trisha was the love of his life, and Patrick resembles her.”

“You’ve been good to Patrick. Not many aunts would take a nephew in like you did and care for him as their own.”

“I guess you are right. He’s come long way. Betty has worked wonders with him. I am thankful every day that she came into our lives.”

“Life has mysterious ways of providing what you need.”

“Yes. It does, doesn’t it? To make a long story short about my childhood, anyway, I had planned to go to college, but once Travis moved to Malta, I moved out here to be closer to him. Mom and Dad were both gone by then. Mom to cancer and Dad to a heart attack. Travis was the only family I had left. I immediately fell in love with this place when I found it. It’s been hard at times, but I’m happy here.”

Galen smiled.

“Enough about me, though. Tell me about your childhood.” She didn’t miss the way he stiffened. “Should I not have asked?” she said before putting the rest of the veggies he’d cut into the sauce and stirring it.

“My childhood was a long time ago.”

She laughed. “You make it sound like you are an old man. What are you, thirty-four? Thirty-five?”

“Something like that,” he snorted.

“Ah. A man prickly about his age. I thought women were usually the ones who were secretive about those kinds of things.”

“Uh-huh. My childhood was . . . different. You could say I lived in another time. I didn’t have loving parents. They were good people, don’t get me wrong, but my pack, um, family had different views on things. I wasn’t neglected or abused, but I had to grow up faster than most. By the time I was Patrick’s age, I was hunting for food. I didn’t go to school. But later, when I was on my own, I took it upon myself to get an education. I never went to college, but I was good with money. I spent a lot of time working with charities. The bad thing about working with money and those who have a lot of it is you start seeing the selfish, greedy side of people. Greed like you never thought possible. Greed that is unbelievable. After a while, I backed away from everything and kept to myself.”

“I’ve never had money, Galen, but I can see how money has the power to corrupt.”

“You have no idea, and I hope you never do. Anyway, let’s say that since taking a closer look at people and their twisted values, I’ve traveled from place to place experiencing the world.”

“That’s amazing. I would like to travel one day.” She sighed.

“Maybe you can.”

“I don’t know. Maybe someday.” She handed him a pot to fill with water for the noodles.

He filled the pot halfway with water from the tap, sat it on the stove, and she turned on the burner. After stirring the sauce again, she placed the noodles in the water.

While Galen didn’t particularly seem unhappy, or say he’d had a bad life, she felt sad for him. Had he always been by himself? Did he have friends? People who cared?

“Do you have any family now, Galen?”

“Kind of, but that’s a subject best left for later.”

Which meant he didn’t want to talk about it. She took the hint and left the subject alone for now.

“The sauce is smelling good.” She stirred the bubbling, thick sauce and let the rich aroma assault her nose with its wonderful flavor.

“It’s not the only thing smelling good,” he whispered.

She startled. He was behind her, and was sniffing her hair.

“How do you do that?” She put the lid back on the sauce, turned around, and scooted sideways so she didn’t end up burning her back on the stove when she leaned against the counter.

“Do what?”

“How does someone your size move around like you do?”

He raised a brow, and she snorted.

“You’re huge, and you don’t make a freaking sound when you walk. I didn’t even hear you come up behind me.” She frowned.

“I’m light on my feet.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s more than that. Maybe you were trained in the military or something?”

“No. No military. I don’t like to fight.”

She moved closer, sizing him up. “I believe that, but I bet you wouldn’t back down if push came to shove either.”

He pulled in a deep breath and stiffened.

“There’s something about you, Galen. Can’t quite put my finger on it, but from the first day I met you, you’ve had a way of communicating with your body. You aren’t like anyone else I’ve ever met. Your moves are deliberate. They almost have a stalking aura to them—although, I’m not sure that’s the right word to describe it. I don’t mean creepy stalking, just . . . I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Do I scare you?”

She might have laughed, told him he could scare the Jolly Green Giant, if sincere worry wasn’t etched across his face.

“No. Not even when we first met. Which, come to think of it, I should have been intimidated as hell by your size alone. And I can’t explain that one either. Because honestly? I’m out here alone with Patrick, and I should have been more cautious with you, if not flat-out scared. My instincts have told me all along that you would never hurt me or Patrick. Maybe I shouldn’t put that much faith into my instincts, but they’ve never failed me before.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he pulled in a deep, slow breath. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is scare you. And you are right. I would never hurt you or Patrick. Not if my life depended on it.”

* * * *

And yet that’s exactly what he was going to do. Scare the hell out of her. Galen had no doubt that Myka could handle just about anything she was faced with, but when he told her what he was? He wasn’t exactly sure how that would go. Would she believe him? Probably not . . . at first. But he’d make sure she knew exactly what she might potentially have to deal with before he left.

And he had to leave. Tonight. His skin itched, which was a sure sign trouble was on the way. He had to lead the danger away from Myka and Patrick. But he refused to leave her in the dark and stranded. Chances were that she would not need to know what he was or the danger she could possibly face. Chances were he’d lead the pursuit away from her and she’d never be the wiser. But he was not a gambling man, nor did he depend on chance.

She was his mate, and he had no choice but to give her the tools to protect herself. She was strong. She’d take what he told her tonight and use it if necessary. She’d deal with it because she was a survivor. But his gut clenched in dread.

After learning what he was, would she look at him the same, or would her eyes fall on him in disgust? Either way, it couldn’t be helped. Every lycan who found his mate ran the risk of his destined mate not accepting what he was. He put faith in fate where that was concerned. Surely fate would not pair any of his species with someone who was not strong enough to deal with the circumstances.

“What’s wrong, Galen?”

“Nothing. Let’s enjoy dinner. We can talk after.”

He was being selfish. He should leave now, but he wanted to spend every second he could with her. When he left, he may never see her again. The thought sent an ache through his chest that exploded outward through his body, nearly dropping him to his knees. Anger quickly sliced through the fear. This shit was going to stop. He would either resolve the problem or die trying. One way or the other, it would stop. He couldn’t go on living knowing Myka was here unprotected while he traipsed all over God’s green earth avoiding his pursuers.

He hadn’t asked to be backed into the corner he was now in, and he was about to come out swinging. She was his, damn it. And he was going to do whatever it took to keep her.

A half hour later, they sat at the table eating dinner. Myka had been quiet since she’d asked him what was wrong. She was smart. She was aware something was bothering him, although could have no idea the mammoth proportion of what that
something
was. The food was good, but he could barely get it down knowing what was coming.

“Galen?” She reached over and covered his hand. “What is it?”

The concern that marred her beautiful face made his heart thump. She cared about him. Joy sang through his veins, but it was quickly doused by dread. He put his fork down.

“Do you not like the spaghetti?”

“It’s amazing, as is everything you cook. It’s not that.”

“Tell me.”

He turned his hand over and linked his fingers with hers, then stood and gently tugged at her. “Walk with me.”

“O-Okay.” She frowned.

She slipped off her flats by the door and stepped into some boots before he draped her jacket over her shoulders.

“Where’s your jacket?”

“Don’t need one.”

“But it’s cold,” she said.

He cupped her cheek. “I’m okay. I promise. If I get cold, I’ll get something warmer from my room.”

He opened the door, followed her out, and reached for her hand again as they walked together toward the barn. Once inside, she shrugged the jacket off and went to the stalls, where the horses were still happily munching on hay.

“You have a wonderful place, Myka.”

She smiled as she rubbed Chloe’s nose. “It’s not much, but there is something about it that calls to you, isn’t there?”

He nodded.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” She turned toward him.

“Kiss me first?” He closed the space between them, cupped her face, and waited.

“I couldn’t possibly deny a request like that,” she said quietly.

He bent to take her lips, and need shot through him like a raging forest fire that couldn’t be stopped. She leaned closer, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth when she sighed. She tasted like heaven. When she was near, when he touched her, the darkest parts of his soul were bathed in the warmth of her light. She was everything to him. Everything he needed. She would forever remain a part of him until he drew his last breath, and even then he vowed to stay with her.

She reached for his shoulders, and he picked her up without breaking the kiss. She gasped into his mouth, but he refused to break the contact just yet, craving more of her. He stepped forward until her back met a thick support post, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. When she rubbed against his hard cock, he groaned. Her heat scorched him, and he wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes from their bodies and finally bury himself inside her where he belonged.

She clutched at his shoulders as he claimed her mouth. Her short nails dug into his skin through the fabric of his shirt and encouraged him on. Her small tongue tangled with his own and wrenched a growl from his throat. Her breathing grew in frantic gasps as he ran his fingers along her ribs and up over one breast, where he kneaded the nipple into a stiff peak through the dress. He wedged his hips tighter into the vee of her thighs and held her against the post, while with his other hand he reached behind him to skim along the smooth line of her calf, over her knee, then up to her creamy thigh.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. The blue-violet color of her passion-glazed eyes deepened with need.

“I want you, Myka,” he growled. “Have from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

“Take me, Galen,” she moaned when his fingers skimmed further up her thigh, slipped between their bodies and over her mound.

Chapter Ten

Myka reached for the front of Galen’s jeans. She was out of her mind with wanting him. She craved him, couldn’t wait to feel the slide of his hard cock as it disappeared inside her. His hazel eyes glowed bright down at her, and once again, instead of questioning why they shimmered, her need for him overrode all logic.

His long fingers stroked her through her panties, and she fought the unadulterated wave of pure pleasure that threatened to render her unconscious. Her fingers trembled as she struggled with the buttons on his jeans before they finally gave way. He sprang free, hot and hard, into her hand, and they both groaned. He’d been right when he said he didn’t need a jacket because he was like a walking furnace, and she was about to go up in flames.

“Please, Galen. I need you inside me now.”

He turned, unexpectedly, and she was falling back. Before she had time to be startled, she landed on a soft pile of fresh hay. Galen tumbled down with her, and suddenly her legs were up over his shoulders, her panties were ripped away, and his wicked tongue was teasing her clit. Once, twice he glided over the bundle of nerves before dipping deep inside her.

She clutched the hay in her hands, and thrashed her head from side to side, as her breathing grew more ragged with each stroke of his tongue. When he eased two long fingers inside her, she cried out as the tension and pressure in her body threatened to explode outward. He relentlessly fucked her with those beautiful fingers while his tongue teased her to the edge over and over, refusing to let her tumble into the free fall awaiting. She was a puppet, and he knew exactly what strings to pull.