Mated To The Devil (11 page)

Hmm,
the fact she doubted their bond wasn’t exactly flattering, especially since he harbored no doubts about her. “Then we need to change that. Let me show what kind of man I am.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“No one said you had to.” Even if he’d like to. Having her so close played havoc with his body, more specifically a certain part that refused to go back to sleep.

“Then what exactly do you want from me?”

So suspicious. What happened to her to have such walls up around her psyche? “I want a lot of things from you, but we can start with a chance for me to atone. A chance to get to truly know you and my son. A chance to give you the things you deserve as my mate and mother of my,” he almost said
pup
but caught himself, “child.”

“You want to give me charity?” she retorted, her eyes flashing. “I don’t require your pity or your charity. I can take care of us just fine. I don’t need you.”

“I never said you did.”

“I have everything I need.”

Everything? Including a lover? Jealousy reared its head and growled. “Is there another man?”
Tell me there is, and I’ll rip his head off.

A moue twisted her lips. “No. But that doesn’t mean I’m not looking.”

A soft growl rolled off his lips, and his wolf bristled inside. “There will be no other men.”

Something of his beast must have shown. Eyes wide, she backed away from him, the scent of her fear spiking the air. “You don’t own me.”

“Like hell I don’t.” Despite her agitation, he stalked toward her, his reminder to go gentle washed away with her refusal to consider him as her mate.

“Stop!” She held up her hand, and he halted his body. Back went her shoulders, and her lips tightened into a stubborn line. “I am not a stupid schoolgirl anymore. You can’t just expect to pick up where we left off. I had a moment of wantonness. It won’t happen again.”

“It will.” He’d make sure of it.

“I’m not a slut.”

“No one said you were.”

“Just because I don’t date, doesn’t mean I’m desperate.”

Didn’t date, as in couldn’t because despite her protests, the mating bond between them affected her?
Excellent
. It soothed his ruffled beast somewhat to know their female remained untouched. A smile tilted his lips. She might not know it, or accept it yet, but she belonged to him.

“Why are you grinning?”

“Because despite all your protests, you’re just fooling yourself. You haven’t dated anyone because you can’t. Your body knows it belongs to me.”

“Does not.”

“Oh, it does, baby. Every creamy, luscious inch.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she squeaked.

“Like what, baby? Talk like a man who appreciates what he sees? A man who remembers how it felt to kiss your full lips? To touch your body? I might have been drunk that night, but I’ve had years to remember. Years of lonely nights dreaming of your ivory skin against mine. The scent of you. The taste . . . ”

Pupils dilating, breath quickening, she couldn’t hide the signs of her arousal. “Stop it.”

“Make me.” Canine blood in his veins or not, he practically purred the challenge.

“I’m not playing your game. I know you’re trying to seduce me using your wicked devil power again.”

He arched a brow. “Devil power?”

She blushed. “Nothing. Forget I said it.”

“You will tell me eventually. I intend to learn everything there is about you, from the first time you scraped your knee, to how you scream my name when you come.”

She shook her head in denial.

Too late. She couldn’t hide, not from him. He could smell her desire, the musky scent that gave it away and made his mouth water for a lick. “I’ll give you the space you crave, for now, and I will court you as you deserve, but understand this, you can’t keep me away forever.”

“That’s what you think.”

“I know. Already I can sense your desire. The heat from your body is calling to mine. Tell me you don’t ache for my touch?”

Her curls bobbed frantically, her very vehemence telling.

It both enchanted and aggravated him, so he kept pushing. “Tell me you don’t long to feel me inside you, pleasuring you?”

“It’s sinful. Wrong,” she whispered.

Sinful in her mind, yet the heavy musky scent of her arousal increased. “It’s not wrong if two people are meant to be together. And if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it is that you belong with me.”

“You’re doing it again.” She clutched at the cross around her neck and backed away.

“Doing what?”

“Using your devil powers to make me succumb. I won’t let you. I know what you are.”

Before Remy could reply or, even better, kiss the lips that teased him, Jacques came running into the room, a cookie in each hand. He waved them, excitement lighting his face. “Mama, he’s got the ones with colors on them, just like Smarties.”

A grin crossed Remy’s face at the sight of his boy. “I see you found my stash. Those are my favorite cookies ever,” he exclaimed, dropping to one knee to bring himself to his son’s level.

For a moment, Jacques eyed the pair of cookies with longing, then offered one. “Mama says sharing is nice.”

Remy took the cookie and chomped it. “Mmm, she’s right, you know. What do you say we go share some chocolate milk with these?”

“Really?” Jacques threw a questioning look at his mother. At her nod, he dashed off back toward the kitchen with a howl worthy of any pack pup. Remy’s heart grew tight with wonder.
My son.

“We’ll talk again later,” Remy promised following his boy.
And maybe touch a little.
Because despite his promise to Mina to go slow, he wasn’t sure if he could help himself.

Chapter Eleven

Mina watched with way too much interest the sway of Remy’s butt as he strode after their son. She thought she’d prepared herself on the drive here for their meeting. Thought she could comport herself in a cool yet civil fashion.
Wrong!
One look at Remy, and she fainted like a medieval damsel.

Waking on his lap, she thought she dreamed, and even when she discovered she didn’t, for a moment, she found herself tempted to stay in the circle of his arms. Oh, the fire he ignited without having to lift a single finger or even do a single thing. Apparently Remy’s mere presence was enough to set her nerve endings on fire.

Escape from his warm body didn’t ease the heat suffusing hers. Actually, the more she gazed upon him and listened to the rumble of his voice, how he argued and tempted, the more her body tingled and burned. Sinful desire had her in its grip again, and, honestly, despite knowing how wrong it was to feel that way, she kind of craved more.

Craved Remy.

And if his words were to be believed, he still wanted her, too.
Wants me, or wants to make sure he gets access to our son. Probably just caving in to some archaic belief that I’m his mate because he bit me.

Just as good-looking as she remembered—maybe even more so—Mina couldn’t quite figure out why he’d want her. Other than for Jacques, of course. She wasn’t some slim beauty with style. Heck, she didn’t even wear makeup or get her hair cut in the latest fashion. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she was attractive, she’d go as far as to say cute even, but for someone as handsome as Remy, she was definitely a little too plain.

Not that her looks mattered. She didn’t intend to get involved with Remy, supposed mate or not. She’d come here for Jacques’ sake. If she could just stay focused on that, then maybe she could fight Remy’s allure. Or so she prayed.

Deciding to join her son and his father, she followed the sound of laughter into a big and bright kitchen. Jacques sat perched on a high stool, but before she could panic he might fall given how much he squirmed, she noticed Remy kept a hand at his back, not quite touching, but near enough to steady if needed.

Biting her lip, she tried not to laugh as she noticed three generations of males, the tops of their lips glistening with moisture, wearing matching chocolate-milk mustaches. Tears pricked her eyes.

This is what Jacques has been missing.
Not just male companionship, or his father, but simple belonging. Family. Despite her misgivings, and her conflict over Remy, she couldn’t deny her son this. But did these men who all had this Lycan gene in common have room for one screwed-up white girl whose own family didn’t love her? Only one way to find out.

“Got another glass?” she asked in a voice that trembled slightly. Immediately, they made room for her, drawing her into their circle, making her laugh and smile, and most important, feeling like she’d come home.

It was a feeling she wished would never end.

* * * *

Later that evening . . .

Snuggled beside Jacques in the guestroom bed, the hour late, she stroked her son’s hair as she read him a story that she dug out of their luggage. However, her boy kept wiggling, his interest obviously not on the antics of Curious George.

“Who’s my daddy?” He blurted his question, and Mina froze. She’d always known one day she’d have to answer that particular query, just not this soon. Not today, not with all that happened in the last few hours and not while her mind and heart still spun in turmoil. Despite expecting the eventual query, guilt flooded her, guilt because she’d procreated out of wedlock. Guilt because she should have tried harder to find Remy. Guilt because she’d chickened out these past years instead of telling her son the truth before.

“Why do you ask?” She took the cowardly path for a moment longer.

“Jean has a daddy and Marie. Antoine, though, only has a mommy like me ’cause his daddy died. Do I have a daddy?”

“Of course, you have a daddy.”

He popped up in the bed and sat facing her, his blue eyes shining. “Can my daddy be Remy?”

“Why Remy?”

Jacques’ face scrunched up as he thought of an answer. “I like him. Him and Pierre, but Remy’s not as old. And he smells like me, Mama. Smells like me and likes chocolate chip cookies. Did you know he’s got a truck, just like Jimmy’s dad, except his is black? And he’s brown, too, just like me.” Jacques held up his arm. “We match.”

Out of the mouths of babes. Do-or-die time. What should she tell him? She took a deep breath and plunged in. “Well, lucky you, Remy is already your daddy. Mommy lost him for a while but found him again. Isn’t that wonderful? Even better, he and your grandpapa Pierre want us to stay here so they can see you lots and lots. What do you think of that?”

Joy lit his countenance. “Yay!” Immediately on the heels of his exuberant shout, worry clouded his features. “Are you gonna stay, too?”

“Of course, muffin. Mommy’s not going anywhere without you. But we don’t have to stay if you don’t want. We can also find our own place to live, and you can visit whenever you’d like instead.”

He tilted his head. “I wanna live with my daddy. He’s got the good cookies, and he said he’ll teach me baseball. And hockey. He even said he’s gonna buy me a stick.”

“I can buy you a stick.”

“You’re a girl,” Jacques snorted with the cocky confidence of a boy much older than his years.

“A girl who can still tickle you!” Mina warned before diving on him with searching fingers.

Shrill screams and giggles erupted from him, and the door flew open, momentarily stunning both of them into silence. Remy stood there his body taut with tension that melted into sheepishness. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I, um, thought you were in trouble. I take it I was mistaken. I’ll leave.”

Mina could see the longing in his eyes and couldn’t resist it. “Stay,” she said softly. “I need help holding this little monster down so I can properly tickle him.” Joy instantly lit Remy’s features.

Jacques squealed as she dove back on him, his brimming smile growing wider as his father joined in on the fun. Remy grabbed a foot to run his fingers over the sole while their son chortled, not all of his amusement, she suspected, from the light touches but originating more from the curiously intimate moment.

The bonding moment deepened as the pair, with a single male conspiratorial glance at each other, turned on her. Mina collapsed with laughter as they attacked her ticklish spots, Jacques betraying her by showing his father each of her tickly places.

After several minutes of torture, she cried uncle, gasping for breath, collapsed on the bed. Jacques, well pleased with himself and not afraid to show it with a smirk, snuggled beside her, and it seemed only natural for Remy to commandeer the other side of the bed.

The familial image it presented tightened her throat, making her voice husky, when she turned her head to kiss her son and whisper goodnight. “Night, muffin. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mama.” Jacques had no sooner replied to her in their usual nightly ritual, than he tilted his head to face his father. “Night, Dada. Love you.”

The surprise on Remy’s face made the ball in her throat thicken.

Pausing only a second, Remy leaned down and kissed his son’s forehead. “I—” He swallowed hard. “I love you, too. Goodnight, my son. I will see you in the morning. We can have breakfast together.”

“I like Froot Loops®,” her little rascal replied before he popped his thumb in his mouth.

Easing off the bed, Mina didn’t look at Remy as they both headed for the door. He let her precede him, and she scurried out, at a loss without the buffer of their boy.

If only she could look into the future and see what it held. Would every evening become a repeat of this one with them sharing laughter as a family? Already she could see Jacques craved the approval and male bonding only Remy could give him. It made her both happy and sad.

Because of Jacques and his needs, she’d agreed to stay with Remy and his dad even though she’d fully planned to go to a motel despite Pierre’s offer of a room. She’d tried to refuse the offered accommodations after dinner, but Jacques and his crestfallen face changed her mind. Besides, she consoled herself, a motel would have cost more than she could afford. She ignored her inner voice, which snickered,
liar, you just want a chance to stay close to Remy, too.