As we basked in the afterglow of our make-up sex, Wesley continued to caress my bare skin and kiss my shoulder, neck, and chest, all while murmuring sweet nothings to me. His lips traveled over my skin in a lazy trail, leaving behind little tingles and sparks wherever they went.
As he did this, he slowly and gently removed his softening penis from me, then settled me back on his lap while he adjusted his position on the floor. I couldn’t imagine it was very comfortable to sit on, but I was too caught up in my post-coital haze to mention it to him. I knew he would move us somewhere else if he really wanted to.
“I really am sorry,” he said, lifting his head to look at me. His fingers played with the ends of my curls, twirling and untwirling them.
“I know,” I reassured him. “I’m sorry too.”
He pursed his lips together and looked down. “But I shouldn’t have ignored you. After everything—everything you’ve been through, everything you told me—I should have known how not contacting you at all would make you feel. I should have remembered.”
I sighed and shut my eyes for a moment. He was right, but he had already apologized. And I didn’t want to play the blame game or rehash everything that had happened, everything we’d already discussed and apologized for.
His fingers drew lazy strokes on my neck and shoulder, tracing lines down my chest and then back up again. I opened my eyes to see him touching my scars, his eyes on them, but his stare was vacant, as if his mind were somewhere else.
Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “Do you hate them?”
His eyes lifted to mine, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate them. I hate that you have them. I hate how you got them. They remind me of how I failed you.”
I put my hand on his cheek, and he closed his eyes at my touch. “No, they’re a reminder of what we could have lost. What we have to fight for,” I said.
The tension in his face softened. He lifted his hand to cover mine, and he turned his head to kiss my palm. “And they’re a reminder of how strong my mate is. How she’s even stronger than me sometimes,” he whispered into my hand.
“I’m not strong. Not compared to you and the other werewolves in your pack.”
“Strength isn’t just physical, Haven. And you are strong. Even after everything you’ve faced, everything you’ve been through, you’re still you. You’re still Haven. And that takes strength, strength most of us don’t have.”
My eyes itched as he spoke, my lip quivering as I held everything in. I cupped his face with my other hand, then leaned forward and kissed him. Our lips met with slow movements, both of us savoring the feel and taste of each other.
But what started as slow and sweet rapidly dissolved into fast and frenzied, our naked bodies moving closer with each passing second. Wesley grew harder again underneath me, and I slid my lower lips along his length.
With a growl, he lifted me and turned us in one swift movement, lowering me to the cool floor. I inhaled through my nose at the sudden cold against my skin, and Wesley settled himself over me and between my legs, his mouth never leaving mine.
Another growl echoed through the room, and it took me longer than I should admit to realize it wasn’t a growl from Wesley but a growl from me. From my stomach.
Wesley pulled back and looked down at my stomach, then cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you had pizza?”
I nodded. “We did,” I said. “For lunch,” I added, my voice barely a whisper.
Wesley sighed and dipped his chin down, his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh. My cheeks heated, and I blurted out, “I’m sorry! I was being petty! As soon as I saw you had made me grilled cheese and tomato soup, I just wanted to jump on you and kiss you for even remembering that it’s my favorite meal.”
“I threw those sandwiches away,” he chuckled.
“I know.” I pouted.
“I can make more?” he offered, and I nodded. “Okay,” he said with a smile. Then he ducked his head down, kissed my stomach, and said, “All right, let’s get some food in you.”
He stood from the floor and pulled me up with him, his hands settling on my hips and caressing me. “There are some of your things in the other bedroom,” he said. “Reid went and got them from your apartment earlier. I put them in the other bedroom because I didn’t want to just assume you would stay in my room with me since you were mad at me. I wasn’t even sure you’d want to stay here at all, but I was hoping you would so—”
“Our room,” I corrected, cutting his rambling off.
“What?”
“You said ‘my room,’ but if I’m your mate, then it’s our room.”
His eyes darkened, and his grip on me tightened. “Goddess, you really are perfect for me,” he muttered, then bent down to kiss me. “Now, go get dressed before I forget about feeding you and ravish your body instead,” he said, turning me and pushing me towards the door, his hand giving a light swat to my ass.
I walked out of the room, peeking back at him as he slipped his sweatpants back on. “Was that supposed to be a threat?” I asked, batting my lashes.
His head snapped towards me, his eyes darkening even further but with a subtle glint of laughter. He took a step towards me, a teasing growl escaping his lips. I squeaked and ran to the bedroom where he said he’d put my stuff, his laughter following me and echoing through his house.
No. Our house.
I entered the bedroom and spotted the backpack I always kept by the front door of our apartment. My backpack that had everything I might need if I had to leave anywhere on short notice. It was a habit, a habit from being moved around so much as a kid, but even twelve years later, it was a habit I couldn’t break myself of.
I snapped it up into my hands and left the room to go into our bedroom. There was no way I was going to sleep anywhere other than with Wesley, at his side and in his arms.
I went into the large walk-in closet and opened the bag. I laughed when I saw Reid had also grabbed Barry, the ballerina wolf, and my music box and shoved them inside with the rest of my things.
I quickly cleaned myself up and pulled on a pair of my underwear and a T-shirt from Wesley’s clothes, then set about organizing most of my things from my backpack in the closet and the room. I put the clothes on a shelf and hung on some hangers, my toiletries in the bathroom, and the music box and Barry on the nightstand next to the side of the bed I’d slept on both of the nights I’d stayed there so far.
I put my blanket back in my backpack, along with another of Wesley’s T-shirts, a pair of underwear, and some pants. I didn’t plan on leaving, but like I’d said, it was a habit I couldn’t quite shake.
Then I made my way back to the kitchen, following the scent of melted butter. I paused as I passed the small mirror in the hall, and my eyes caught on the scars on my neck, barely visible above the collar of the T-shirt. The scars from when Lennox bit me.
My eyes widened, and my stomach flipped over as I realized I had been bitten. By a werewolf. A lycan.
My heart thudded in my chest, and Wesley’s footsteps echoed the beat as he rushed into the hall.
“Sugar Plum? What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice cautious as he took my face in his hands.
“Lennox bit me,” I muttered.
“Yes, he did. And he will pay for it when I get my hands on him,” Wesley promised with a growl.
I shook my head. “But he bit me,” I repeated. “Am I… will I turn into a werewolf—a lycan—too?”
My voice shook as I asked my question, as I voiced my concern. It would change everything if I did. It could affect everything—my body, my career—I had to know.
Wesley’s eyes widened as he realized what I was asking, and he pressed his lips together. I could feel his amusement through the bond, and I smacked his chest with my hand. “It’s not funny, Wesley!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained as he held in his laughter. “I know it’s not funny to you, but it is to me because I know we can’t turn others into lycans or werewolves. Werewolves and lycans are only born, not made. But I realize you wouldn’t know that, and one of us should have made sure we explained that to you. I’m sorry,” he said.
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Sorry,” I muttered, my cheeks flushing.
“No need to apologize or be embarrassed,” he said, pulling me into his arms so my cheek rested against his bare chest. “It was a valid question that you needed an answer to.” He kissed the top of my head and stepped back. “Now, let’s go eat while the sandwiches are still hot, and you can ask me any other questions you still have.”
I followed him into the kitchen, sorting through all the questions floating through my mind as he dished up our food. There were so many in there, and it seemed as though each answer just gave me more questions.
Wesley took our food to the table, and I followed him, moving to sit in the chair I’d sat in the night he’d made us dinner. But he pulled me into his lap before I could take three steps.
He scooted his chair in, then wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me so I couldn’t move off his lap even if I tried. Not that I wanted to. I was perfectly content sitting there.
“Why do you say ‘goddess’ so much?” I asked, then leaned forward to blow on my spoonful of soup. “I’ve heard you say it several times, and Reid said it that first night by the lake. You said he’d had too many sprinkles.”
Wes chuckled. “Selene—the Greek goddess of the moon—is our creator. She created the wolf warriors, who then became the first werewolves. She created the first alpha lycans, and she created fated mates for us.”
“So you worship her?” I asked, dipping a piece of my sandwich into the soup.
“Sort of?” Wesley answered. “We don’t worship her in the same way some humans worship their God. We don’t pray to her or anything. But we acknowledge that we wouldn’t exist without her, and we hold respect for her.”
“But you believe she’s real?”
“Of course she’s real.”
“But how do you know?”
“I mean… I guess we don’t know for sure. But if I’m real, then she must be real too, right?” he reasoned after he thought for a moment.
I hummed out a noncommittal response and ate my food as I thought of what I wanted to ask next. There were still so many questions rolling around in my brain, but I didn’t want to overwhelm myself. And I was tired from the intensity of everything that had happened.
There was just one question, one thing I wanted to know and discuss before I called it a night.
I set my spoon down in my empty bowl and leaned back into Wesley’s body, turning so I could wrap my arms around his neck. His hand came to rest on my thigh, absentmindedly trailing his fingers along the bare skin there, and I was glad I had only worn his shirt over my underwear. The feel of his skin against mine not only gave me those pleasurable tingles but comforted me and soothed my soul.
“What’s on your mind, Sugar Plum?” Wesley asked, nuzzling his nose into my neck.
“What will you do as alpha?” I asked. “And what would I have to do as the luna?”
“We will lead the pack. Together.”
I nodded and pressed my lips together. “But—”
“You can dance. You don’t have to stop. You can dance for as long as you want to—as long as you need to.”
“But won’t that get in the way of leading the pack?”
“No. I’ll still do my other work, too. My dad works still. My mom doesn’t, but that’s only because she had me almost right away after mating with my dad, and she decided to stay home and raise us instead. But almost all alphas and lunas have some other job outside of just running the pack. Plus, I know ballet makes you happy, and seeing you happy makes me happy. I wouldn’t ever take that away from you,” he said, all the while rubbing his hands in gentle, soothing motions everywhere on my body.
I nodded again, squeezing my eyes shut to hide the glistening I knew would be there. I wasn’t a crier, but with him, it seemed the tears came on their own. My hands grabbed his face, and I pulled him to me to kiss him, showing him what his words and his promise meant to me the only way I could at the moment.
He smiled against my mouth as we kissed, his hold on me tightening as his hands pressed my upper body into his. I pulled away and lay my head against his chest again, and he went back to eating his second—or maybe his third—sandwich.
Between the warmth of his chest, the warmth from my full belly, and the sweet, spicy, and smoky scent of his cologne, I found myself growing sleepy in no time. My eyes fought to stay open, and a yawn forced its way from my body as I curled further into his solid presence.
In my exhausted state, I heard Wesley chuckle and felt him kiss my forehead and say, “Come on, Sugar Plum. Let’s get you to bed.”
