Wild Wolf Claiming Read online

  He’d taken her with him when he’d eventually rolled back over, murmuring that he didn’t want to crush her. As she lifted her head from his chest, ready to ask him about the things churning through her thoughts, he caught her gaze with his heavy one, one hand stroking over her hair as he watched her and said, “I know there’s still so much I need to learn for you—so that I can do right by you—but you already make me feel so amazing, Skye. Like I was born for this. To give you pleasure. To make you laugh...and smile...and fall apart in my arms.”

  Emotion moved through her in a warm, huge swell, her mouth trembling as she tried to hold back a hot rush of tears. “Oh, God, Elliot. You’re too much,” she whispered, wishing she were brave enough to just come out and tell him that she loved him.

  He tilted his head a bit as he studied her expression. “But in a good way?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She gave him a wobbly smile, and leaned up, pressing her lips to his. “In the best of ways.”

  He caught her behind her neck, holding her there so he could flick his tongue between her lips, the low sound that he made while he tasted her telling her he enjoyed it.

  “You know,” she said, when he lowered his head back to the pillow, one of his big hands cupping the side of her face like she was something endearingly precious to him, “if you keep this up, you’re going to spoil me completely rotten.”

  A sexy grin kicked up the corner of his mouth as he stroked his thumb across the curve of her cheek. “Fine with me, baby. I happen to think you deserve some serious spoiling.”

  “Well, that goes both ways,” she told him, loving his gaze like that, so hazy and warm with pleasure. “I...I want to make you happy, too.” She paused to take a careful breath, needing a moment to dig deep for her courage. It wasn’t easy, but he was worth it, damn it. He was worth...anything. Everything. So she looked him right in the eye, and said, “And if we’re really going to do this thing—if we’re going to...be together—then I want to help you...and be a true partner. I may be human, but that doesn’t mean I need to be coddled. I’ll learn what I need to know to make it here, and I’ll be here for you to lean on when you need it. Whenever you need it.”

  He’d kept his gaze locked on hers as she spoke, though he’d smoothed his hand from her face, down the side of her neck, until he reached the start of her shoulder. Then he’d found her hammering pulse at the base of her throat with his thumb, stroking the sensitive skin as he listened to her, his eyes growing brighter and heavier, until they smoldered with heat. With preternatural fire. And a breathtaking look of awe.

  Voice low and even huskier than before, he smiled at her and said, “You beautiful, surprising girl. What the hell am I going to do with you?”

  She arched her brows at him. “Um, that was probably a rhetorical question, but I can actually think of all kinds of awesome things.”

  “Oh yeah?” His deep, rumbling laugh had her shaking on top of him. “You know,” he added, stroking his big hands down her sides, “between our two dirty minds, we might never leave this bed.”

  “I could live with that,” she said with an embarrassingly girlish giggle, and then as quick as her laughter had come, a sudden flare of guilt choked it off.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly picking up on the shift in her mood.

  With a slight wince, she admitted, “I just... I can’t help but feel guilty. I mean, Viv is out there with Max and they won’t tell us what’s going on, and I’m... I’m feeling so grateful to be here with you. It just...none of it seems fair.”

  “Skye, Viv is going to be fine,” he assured her. “I promise you that Max won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “But he refused to let you send help to him.”

  “Yeah, and I won’t lie and tell you that it doesn’t worry me. But I trust him. I know he wouldn’t do this on his own unless it was the right call to make.”

  She sighed and lowered her head back to his chest. For a few breath-filled moments, she silently fought with herself about whether she should just keep her mouth shut, or go ahead and ask her earlier question, since she’d already spoiled the lighthearted moment. She came up with a hundred different reasons for why she should and why she shouldn’t, and then she finally just blurted it out in a quiet, breathless rush: “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  “What? You mean about Max?” he asked, and she swore she could feel his body tensing beneath her.

  Sliding onto her hip beside him, she braced herself on a straight arm, placed her other hand against his chest, over the heavy pounding of his heart, and slowly shook her head as she brought her worried gaze to his. “No. It’s something...something about you. I don’t know what it is...and before you say it, it’s not about the connection. I might have freaked out at first, but I’m smart enough to be happy as hell about it—that it’s me you’re meant to be with. But I...I still can’t help but feel that there’s something you’re still holding back from me.”

  “There’s nothing,” he told her, as he sat up and braced his back against the headboard, her hand trailing down to rest on one of his hard thighs. But she didn’t believe him...because she was starting to realize that Elliot had a tell when he lied. He licked his lips.

  And that’s exactly what he’d done just now, before he told her he had nothing to hide.

  Quietly, but with conviction, she said, “You’re lying to me.”

  He opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but nothing ever came out. His gaze had locked with hers, and it was like she could watch the fear and frustration as it built inside him. She could definitely feel it in the way his body stiffened, all those lean, ripped muscles hardening to stone.

  Dreading the answer, she asked, “Does it have anything to do with why you think we need to wait before you claim me?”

  His jaw tightened, and she could see the muscle that began to pulse there. One tick...two...three. And then his lashes lowered, and he slowly asked her, “Are you ready?”

  She blinked, wondering where he was taking this. “Am I ready for what?”

  He quickly shifted away from her, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. When he turned his head and looked back at her over his broad shoulder, there was an almost cruel curl to his lips as he demanded, “Are you ready to open a vein and spill everything about yourself? Just lay it all out there? For me?”

  She had to swallow a few times before she could whisper his name. “Elliot...”

  “No?” he grunted, one dark eyebrow twitching. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  Drawing the sheet up around her, she cleared her throat, and managed to choke out a quiet “I wasn’t trying to fight with you.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” he rasped, surging to his feet and reaching for his jeans. As he pulled them on, he flicked her a dark look from under his lashes, and muttered, “You just want something you’re not willing to give me in return.”

  “That’s...not true.” Her throat ached, tight with the fear that she was ruining everything. And yet, she knew this could never work unless they were both completely honest with each other. “I just... I’m not... I’m trying, Elliot. And I’m giving you every part of me.”

  “Not every part,” he ground out. “Not your past. Not those deep, dark secrets you’re still holding inside.”

  She flinched, but somehow managed to find the courage to say, “Only...only because I don’t want you to judge me.”

  A harsh, bitter laugh burst past his lips as he shoved both hands back through his hair, his gaze colder than she’d ever seen it. “Yeah, well, back atcha, babe. I know exactly how you feel.”

  Her brows lowered as she gave him a quizzical look. “You’re afraid I’ll judge you?”

  He smiled, but there was no humor in it. Just a hard, chilling reality. “I’m not afraid, Skye. I’m fucking terrified.”

  Panic was making it difficult to breathe, but she moved up onto her knees, desperate to make him believe her. “You don’t need to be, Elliot. Not wi
th me. I... I lo—”

  “Hold that thought,” he snapped, cutting her off, and she could feel his frustration being shaped into something ugly and raw, his muscles so sharply defined beneath his skin, he looked like he’d been carved with an artist’s chisel. “Whatever you’re getting ready to say, just...don’t.”

  More than anything in the world, she wanted him to come back to the bed, lie down with her and hold her through the night like he was never going to let her go. Like everything would be okay, and they didn’t have a mountain of secrets standing between them.

  But he didn’t. He dragged his hand roughly over his mouth, and then he turned his back on her.

  With burning, tear-filled eyes, she watched him walk right out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

  She waited...listening...and when the front door opened and closed a few moments later, Skye lay down, burying her face in the pillow that still smelled like Elliot, and cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter 13

  Elliot spent the better part of the following day doing everything he could to avoid Skye, and he hated every moment of it. But he didn’t know what else to do. The last time they’d talked... Yeah, that had been gut-wrenching, and he didn’t have anyone to blame but himself because he was the one who’d acted like an idiot.

  After he’d stormed out, he’d spent his night prowling around the Alley until well after midnight, before finally creeping back into the cabin. He’d tried to catch some sleep out on the sofa, but had mostly just tossed and turned. He was up bright and early with the sunrise, and managed to get out to the meeting at Mason’s before Skye even woke up.

  He’d hoped the meeting might finally clarify some of the questions he had for the mercs, since they’d been so less than willing to discuss the wargs, as they called them, in front of Skye. And it had, to a point. He just hadn’t liked what he’d learned. And he hadn’t been able to get anything out of the mercs about whoever might have helped him up at the safe house. There was definitely something there they weren’t telling him about, and he was getting damn sick of the secrets.

  And, yeah, the irony wasn’t lost on him.

  Before everyone had headed out, Mason had pulled him aside and warned him to tread carefully with Skye. Apparently their argument had been overheard by a bunch of their neighbors, and the others were worried about him screwing up the best thing that had ever happened to him. Then Mase reminded him about the Christmas party they were throwing for the pack’s patrol scouts up in Shadow Peak that evening, and he bit back a groan, thinking a party was the last thing he felt like going to. Especially when he and Skye weren’t even talking.

  The only bright spot in his day had been when he’d run into Sayre on his way back to the cabin, and even she’d given him a hard time, after he admitted that he and Skye were fighting about his refusal to discuss his past.

  “Elliot, you just need to tell her what happened to you,” she’d told him, sounding as frustrated as she did sad. “If you don’t, it could end up costing you everything. And I hear this girl is not only awesome, but that she’s freaking crazy about you. Don’t you want to claim her and marry her? Make a future with her? A family?”

  “God, yes. More than anything. It’s just that...”

  “It’s just that there’s still a part of you that doesn’t feel like you deserve it,” she’d finished quietly for him. “Is that it?”

  His throat had tightened with emotion. “Yeah.”

  “You can’t think that way,” she’d murmured, giving him a look that said she didn’t know quite what to do with him. “How do you think it would make Mason and Torrance feel if they knew that’s how you still saw yourself?”

  “They don’t have anything to do with this,” he’d muttered, fully aware that he was talking himself into a corner.

  Her pale brows had arched. “So the people who care about you don’t matter?”

  “Christ, Sayre, just drop it. You know I’m not like them. Like the rest of you.”

  “You know what Cian’s past was like,” she’d said in a low voice, looking as if she’d like nothing more than to shake some sense into him. “The people he killed when he was younger and still allowing his brother to influence his life—there were so many of them, Elliot. And yet, do you look at him today and think that he doesn’t deserve to be happy?”

  “No,” he’d admitted, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Cian...he’s a good man. One of the best I know.”

  “And yet, you can’t say the same for yourself?” she’d pressed him. “Not even when the things that happened to you were beyond your control?”

  Damn near growling at her, he’d said, “I didn’t have to go to that Simmons asshole for help.”

  Sayre had nodded. “True. But you did it with the right intentions, Elliot. And if you explain that to Skye, she’ll understand.”

  He’d blinked down at her, his next words falling from his lips like broken pieces of glass. “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then she isn’t worthy of you,” had been his friend’s vehement response. But he knew that wasn’t true. There was no one in the freaking world worthier than Skye.

  Needing to change the subject, he’d forced a grin onto his lips, and said, “Enough about me, witch. Your guy told me you have some news to share. And from your scent,” he’d drawled, “I’m guessing we’ll get to meet this ‘news’ in about nine months, yeah?”

  The smile on her lips had been unreal, her soft laughter filling the glade as she’d placed a slender hand on her still-flat stomach. “Cian’s so excited, he can’t stop talking about it.”

  Elliot could easily believe it. Cian Hennessey had taken to being a husband and father like he’d been born for it, and there was no one, not a single person, who knew him who didn’t see how completely devoted he was to his wife and daughter. How he thought the sun and the moon hung with their happiness.

  As if she’d read his mind, Sayre had looked at him and said, “You know, you’ll be an amazing dad one day too, Elliot. Just like Cian is. It’s something that you both deserve.”

  With her words spinning around in his head, nearly making him dizzy, he’d given Sayre a hug goodbye, and told her that he’d bring Skye by to meet her later. Then he’d headed back over to his cabin, and though he could hear Skye moving around inside, he kept himself busy out in the back. He replaced some of the weathered panels at the base of the back porch, and even did a bit of painting with the supplies he kept in a small shed.

  He knew she could hear him, but she never came out to talk to him. He’d meant to head inside at some point and grab some lunch, but when he finally glanced down at his watch, Elliot was surprised to see that it was already after four.

  It took him nearly a half hour to get things cleaned up and put away, and then he made his way around to the front. As he came into the cabin, he instantly spotted Skye, who was curled up in a corner of the sofa with his battered copy of one of James Patterson’s first Alex Cross books. Her shuttered gaze skittered away from his, and he could all but feel the goddamn walls building between them.

  It was absolute hell, not being able to cross the room and pull her into his arms, frame her beautiful face with his hands, and let his thumbs tilt her jaw up so that he could cover that pink, delicious mouth with his. She looked so damn sad and tense and pissed off, and when she glanced up at him again, she seemed almost surprised by his appearance. He figured he probably had paint smeared on his face, and his hair had to be sticking up in about twenty different directions, since he hadn’t been able to stop stabbing his fingers through it all day. Then she just looked back down at the book, and he realized he’d been dismissed.

  Shit. Just...shit.

  With a hard swallow working its way down his throat, Elliot turned and headed into the kitchen. But instead of making himself something to eat, he found himself just standing there, hands braced on the counter as he hung his head forward and squeezed his eyes shut, his conversation with Sayre still looping its
way through his brain on a constant replay.

  Did he have the guts to just do it? And how the hell did you confess something like that to the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your friggin’ life with?

  He didn’t know.

  Then you need to figure it out, his wolf rumbled in a low, deadly voice, and Elliot could feel the animal’s regret for what had happened all those years ago. Could feel its rage at being manipulated as sharply as if it’d only just happened. He gave another hard swallow, and could have sworn he felt the young woman’s blood pouring down his throat, thick and rich and warm.

  “Shit!” he cursed under his breath, gripping his head in his hands and squeezing, as if he could force out the macabre memories and somehow make himself clean.

  And then Skye was there, in the kitchen with him, silently walking past where he stood and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Before he could think of what to say, she turned around, and started to walk right by him again, and he couldn’t take it. Lurching away from the counter, he blocked her path with his bigger, much taller body, and had to curl his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her. “Jesus, Skye. Can you at least talk to me?” he rasped, breathing hard as he stared down into her beautiful, troubled eyes.

  “I’ve been right here, in this cabin, the entire day,” she said sharply, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re the one who ran. Like a child.”

  “I know. And I’m...sorry,” he choked out, finding it difficult to get enough air. “You have every right to be pissed at me. I should have... I should have stayed and...and talked things out with you.”

  She sighed, some of the stiffness in her posture easing as she looked away from him, seeming unsure what to say next. “Did you learn anything at your meeting this morning?” she asked, after several moments had passed and she finally brought her gaze back to his.