Last Wolf Standing (27 page)

“I love you!” she screamed. “Don’t leave me! I love you…”

The next thing he’d known, he’d jerked awake with a roar trapped in his chest, skin damp with sweat, sounding like he’d run a marathon. Torrance’s small form had been pressed against his side, her soft breath brushing against the curve of his jaw.

Now, standing at the window, Mason watched the sun crest over the tops of the trees in a burning arc of gold, and he headed for his bedroom, needing to check on her. The moment he sat down beside her hip, she stirred.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” she asked sleepily, soft morning sunlight shining down on her head, setting the deep red tones of her hair afire in that way that took his breath. Every damn time he saw it.

“I had a bad dream,” he said, his mouth twisting with a wry smile.

Her luminous green eyes softened, hazy with the promise of comfort. “I know all about those. If you come back to bed, I’ll make you feel better.”

“I have no doubt of that,” he rumbled, his rough fingertips brushing gently over her temple, tucking the wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “But after last night, you need time to recover. I know you must be tender.”

She blushed a brilliant shade of rose, making him chuckle, and she picked up his pillow, whacking him against the side of his head.

“I don’t suppose you’ve put on any coffee?” she asked, the hopeful note in her sleep-husky voice impossible to miss.

“That sounds like a desperate request,” he chuckled, forcing the memories of his dream away as they hovered at the edges of his mind. He didn’t want to think about Dean and death and the past. He wanted to soak himself in Torrance. Wanted to fill himself up on her laughter and smiles. “I’m almost afraid to admit I haven’t made any yet.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned dramatically. “You’re cruel.”

Smiling, Mason leaned down and pressed his mouth to her temple, nuzzling her in a way that made her shiver. “After last night, how can you say that?” he teased, nipping her earlobe, breathing into the sensitive shell of her ear. “You know I only want to take care of you—keep you melting in satisfaction.”

And had he ever, Torrance thought with a dreamy sigh.

When she’d seen him battered and bruised, she’d been reminded that life was fragile and fleeting, that fate could turn on you at the drop of a dime. She hadn’t wanted to waste whatever time she might have with him. And the night had been perfect.

“You know,” she moaned, stretching, “Jeremy was definitely right.”

“Jeremy was right about what?” he asked thickly, trailing his fingertips down her side, his thumb stroking low across her sheet-covered belly, making her tremble.

“About this,” she murmured, giving him a slumberous, lazy look of fulfillment. She was steeped in it. Could still feel the residual pulses and aches of pleasure humming pleasantly through her well-used body, her muscles shivery and tired from the physical exertion. “There’s a heck of a lot to be said for this mate-for-life, love-at-first-sight stuff.”

“What?” He squinted down at her, as if staring into a bright light, and against her side his fingers stilled.

For a moment she couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and then she suddenly realized what she’d just said. “I didn’t mean to say that,” she laughed softly, the sound brittle, her heart already breaking at the bizarre look on his face. “I meant to say lust, Mason. You know. Lust at first sight.”

An awkward silence met her words, and she shifted uneasily. She wished he’d just ignore it, pretend it didn’t happen, but no such luck. His gaze no longer seemed to be burning quite so warm, as if some arctic wind had swept through him.

“I really wish you wouldn’t make a big deal about this,” she whispered, off balance despite the fact that she was still in bed. She may have been lying down, but her head was spinning. It was ridiculous, but she’d thought, at least for a moment, that last night had changed things. Clearly, it hadn’t. At least not for Mason. It hurt. God, there was no denying that it hurt. But she wouldn’t regret it.

“It’s okay, Mason,” she said softly, grabbing at the sheet and pulling it a little higher. “It’s a physical thing, you said so yourself. I understand.”

“Torrance,” he groaned. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be different. I—”

“You were honest with me, so no apologies necessary. Okay?”

“Damn it, don’t shut me out like that.”

He wasn’t the one being shut out—she was. Shaking her head, she said, “Mason, do you even hear what you’re saying?”

“Christ, I’m sorry, Torrance.” He sighed, rubbing one hand over his face, the bristle on his cheeks and chin making a scratchy sound against his palms.

Those were the last words she wanted to hear. Not after last night. Not after the man had systemically stripped her down, ripped her open and shown her exactly what it felt like to give herself to another person, fully surrendering both her body and her heart.

She’d been making love, no matter how breathtakingly wild and primitive their mating had been. She had been doing it with her soul—and he…hadn’t.

“Last night didn’t change anything.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement of fact. The words fell soft and quiet between them, and despite the sick feeling in her stomach, she was relieved at how poised she sounded.

His mouth twisted, the hard cast on his face looking almost like regret.

She’d opened her eyes to the morning, feeling reborn, ready to fling herself into the newness of love and the brilliant, somewhat frightening gift she’d been given. And even with psychotic maniacs out there waiting to take them down, she’d still felt blessed. Had known, after the loneliness of her life, that to have found something this significant was both beautiful and profound. A miracle.

We only met three days ago, she thought with a wry laugh. But this thing between them, it felt…different. Damn it, it was different. Real and beautiful and awe-inspiring. The stuff of dreams and dragons, of magical kingdoms and happily-ever-afters. She didn’t want to kill the magic by ripping the foundation out of her dream before it’d even begun. He’d promised to be faithful, to stay by her side—but without love, how could anything last? The life her mother had lived—a life Torrance had witnessed in full detail—answered that question all too well: it wouldn’t.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Torrance reached down to the floor for the oversize T-shirt he’d given her last night when they’d raided the kitchen for a midnight snack, and pulled it over her head with shaking arms. The last thing she wanted at this moment was to be naked in front of him. God, she already felt stripped enough as it was, all her emotions laid bare before him, like an insect pinned in a display case.

“I need to grab a shower,” she murmured, knowing she had to have some time to herself, to figure things out.

He stood, heading around the bed, but she stopped him before he could reach her, holding out her hand. Her chin lifted, but her eyes had that dry, scratchy feeling that always came before a flood of tears. Mason lifted his hand toward her face, as if he’d cup her cheek, but she stopped him with a single word. “Don’t.”

The air made a harsh sound as he forced out a short breath, and he dropped his arm to his side. “We can work this out, Torrance. I can make you happy. I know I can. What I can’t do is lose you,” he gritted through his clenched teeth. “I never thought I’d find this. I never even dared to think that there might be someone out there. Someone that was mine and mine alone. This thing between us, it’s more than anything I’ve ever known. More than I knew I was even capable of. Why can’t we leave it at that?”

Torrance blinked up at him, trying to fight back the salty flow of tears, wishing she could be happy with what he had to offer. But she couldn’t. She was greedy when it came to this man—she wanted it all. “Because,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around her middle, “no matter how much I want you, I know that without love, you’d never stay.”

“You said last night that you were mine,” he rasped, golden eyes blazing. “And I’m not leaving you.”

“You’d never stay…faithful.” She threw the last word down like a gauntlet, and he all but tremored with rage before her, his fury blasting against her like an angry swell of frustration, hot and beastly.

“I told you you were the only woman for me now, and you can call me whatever else you like, but I’m not a goddamn liar!” he growled. He turned way from her, stalking toward the door in long, angry strides, but before he got there he slammed to a stop, sending her a sudden look of surprise over his broad shoulder.

“What is it?”

He closed his eyes, cursing a long, foul streak under his breath as he brushed past her on the way to his dresser.

“Damn it, Mason. Will you just tell me what has you looking so—”

“I forgot to tell you about my parents,” he muttered, pulling out a sage-green T-shirt and slipping it over his head, the muscles in his arms and chest momentarily distracting her.

A shiver of dread scurried up the back of her neck, making her shiver. “What about them?”

“They’re coming over today to meet you,” he grunted, avoiding her stare as he pulled on his socks and boots. “In fact, knowing them, they’ll probably get here stupid early because they’re looking forward to it, which means they could be showing up any minute now with breakfast. They don’t live in Shadow Peak, but they’re still in the mountains. Only about twenty minutes away.”

“Parents?” she whispered, as if she didn’t know what to make of the word.

“Yeah, my parents,” he drawled, his smile tight as he cut her a knowing look, his brows raised. “You know, as in my mother and father. Believe it or not, I didn’t spawn from the devil or anything.”

“But why? Why are they coming here?”

“Because if I hadn’t called and told them about you, they’d have wrung my bloody neck when they learned that I’d found my life mate and failed to mention the fact. Trust me, it’s going to be a lot easier getting it over with now rather than later.”

“This is nuts,” she groaned, holding her head in her hands as the beginnings of a killer headache started pounding through her skull.

“I’d hurry if I were you,” he told her, and without another word, he walked right past her and out of the room.

Feeling like she’d just been blindsided by a truck, Torrance collapsed on the edge of the bed, staring at the dark grain of the floor, wondering what she was going to do.

For a few brief hours hope had burned so sweet…and now it’d just burned out.

A half hour later, Torrance’s rioting emotions were still keeping her company as she followed the voices coming from the kitchen. Stepping through the archway, she saw an older couple sitting at the table, while Mason was dishing up fresh-baked cinnamon rolls she assumed had been brought by his mother. Jeremy held court at his customary place in front of the sink, while the seated couple laughed at whatever he’d just said.

Mr. and Mrs. Dillinger. Mason’s parents. In the flesh.

God, what more was she going to have to deal with today? Already she felt wrung dry, the past several days catching up with her in a way that made her feel wilted, like a bad head of lettuce. Not exactly the image she’d wanted to project when meeting the parents of the man who’d stolen her heart, but with the way her luck had been going lately, she should have expected as much.

She started to move forward, but then froze like a deer in the headlights, realizing that they were all looking at her now. Mason’s dark eyes watched her with a cautious wariness, as if he didn’t know what to expect from her.

“Mom, Dad,” he said in that deep, whispery baritone that always sounded so sexy, “this is Torrance.”

“It’s…so nice to meet you,” she said in a rush, plastering on a smile as they came toward her, his father wrapping her in a huge bear hug, then relinquishing her to his mother, who kissed both her cheeks, her brown eyes—identical to Mason’s—bright with genuine warmth and delight. She’d been so worried that the moment would be awkward, but Robert and Olivia Dillinger were so wonderfully warm and accepting, she almost felt completely at ease.

Jeremy pulled in an extra chair from the living room and they all gathered ’ round the kitchen table for breakfast and coffee, the conversation lively while both parents did their best to keep her entertained with stories of Mason’s juvenile misadventures. There was the time when he’d climbed a thirty-foot pine to play lookout for Jeremy during a game of war, and ended up too scared to make it back down on his own—to an endearing story about the beautiful locket that Olivia wore around her neck. It had been a gift from Mason on her birthday when he was only thirteen, and he’d saved his money for months. Olivia even opened the locket to show her the pictures of Mason and his brother that she carried inside. And though it was heartbreaking to see the photo of Dean, his dark hair and chocolatey brown eyes reminding her of Mason, Torrance couldn’t help but smile over the photos. There was something just so wonderfully cute about such a tough guy’s mom carrying his picture in a locket.

In fact, Robert and Olivia Dillinger were an adorable couple all the way around. While his father was as handsome as Mason, just an older, slightly more distinguished version, his mother fell more into the category of cute and cuddly, with a wholesome beauty that radiated from her dazzling smile and warm brown eyes. They seemed a mismatched pair, much like her and Mason…and yet Robert Dillinger watched his wife with an avid absorption, as if she were the queen of the universe.