Wicked Cravings (34 page)

“Trey, he looks just like you when you were a baby,” Greta told him. “Except for the blond hair. But we can cut that off, it’s fine.”

“You go near my son’s hair, you senile old witch, and I’ll finally shave that lip of yours!” called Taryn from inside the room.

Greta’s mouth twitched into a self-satisfied smile that had Trey sighing and shaking his head.

“You couldn’t wait until later before trying to irritate my mate?” Greta just shrugged unapologetically and went to take the baby. “You can all hold him later.”

“Please, just one little tiny hold!” pleaded Jaime.

He thought about it for a second and exhaled heavily. “Just a few of you. And quickly. You want his head in the crook of your elbow and then wrap your other arm around him,” he told her stiffly, as if repeating what he himself had been told.

Carefully, Jaime took the baby from Trey and smiled, marveling over just how gorgeous he was. Even all wrinkled and scrunched-up, he was too cute for words. Best of all was his smell. She had never smelled anything like it before. There was truly nothing to compare it to. It was just a sweet, earthy, divine, addictive scent that made her melt. It called to her on a primal level and made her consider things she hadn’t before, making her feel slightly off-center and exposed in a way she couldn’t explain. Instead of making her want to hand Kye over to someone else, it made her want to keep him right there where he was. Her wolf, too, had an urge to keep Kye close—an urge Jaime didn’t understand but didn’t question.

Dante watched Jaime holding Kye with a smile of pure delight on her face and felt a twinge in his chest. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he imagined her holding
their
baby. The picture was so clear in his mind that a lump actually appeared in his throat. Maybe it was the wonder of the moment, he wasn’t sure, but suddenly every wall he had fell away. Every fear and doubt was pushed to the back of his brain, and he felt stripped bare.

Going by the way Jaime was swallowing hard and biting on her lower lip even as she was still smiling down at Kye, Dante guessed that the same thing was happening to her. And then she looked up at him, flashing him a smile, but as their gazes met, a knowing so primitive and absolute hit him with a force that almost hurt. As her eyes widened, he knew the same knowing had hit her, and he was sure that the wonder, shock, confusion, and recognition in her eyes would be reflected in his own.

“She’s hogging him. Move out of the way so I can get to my great-grandson,” Greta complained as she tugged on the back of his T-shirt. Feeling in some kind of daze, he stepped aside.

As Jaime awkwardly handed Kye to Greta, he saw she was in that same daze. As she looked back at him, he saw another emotion on her face. Sheer panic.

No.
The word continuously raced around Jaime’s brain. Her mate. He was her mate.

She didn’t need to ask herself how she hadn’t realized this before now. How would she have known? She could recall asking her mom about mating bonds when she was a little girl. Her mom had explained that a mating bond was like a frequency; if it was jammed by something—fears, mental barriers, doubts, an imprint bond, a reluctance to mate—the frequency couldn’t be picked up.

By caging her wolf and building so many walls, there was no way Jaime could have sensed it.

Dante was no more open than she was. He had walls of his own, not to mention a total aversion to finding his true mate. And what with her having that same aversion, neither of them had had a hope in hell of sensing it.

Maybe it should have occurred to her, since she’d been drawn to him even when they were kids, but plenty of people had crushes. A girl could crush on plenty of guys over the years, thinking she was totally and unquestioningly in love with each one of them at the time. Never with any of those guys had she wondered if it meant that he was her mate, so why would she have thought her crush on Dante was anything more than exactly that—a simple crush?

It wasn’t really important at this point. Now that she knew the truth, she had to figure out what she was supposed to do about it. What
could
she do about it? She sure couldn’t claim him for obvious reasons. But how could she be around him each day without doing so? Even now, she could feel the urge to take what was hers building in her system, taunting her, hounding her, and nagging at her.

Now she could understand exactly what Shaya and Nick were going through. No wonder the guy was finding it so difficult to stay away from Shaya. The draw was more than a simple attraction, more than just a pull. It was magnetic, enticing, a pressure on the mind that had nowhere to go. It was a crushing and overwhelming craving, as if she needed to feed an addiction. She honestly felt as though she might soon shake with the beating need to claim him.

The longer mates resisted, the worse the urge to claim became. Suddenly she felt a little sorry for Nick. Not that it excused his behavior. But she could understand it, just like she could understand Shaya’s need to be away from this person to whom she knew she would never be mated. There was no way that Jaime could be around Dante every day while this urge was gnawing at her. The only choice she had was to leave, even if the idea did send a dull pain knifing through her body and soul. It was that or go absolutely insane.

Gabe’s words suddenly came to her: his contention that if she ever left, Dante would track her down and bring her back. But Dante wasn’t stupid. He’d know that there was no way that they could claim each other as mates. It wouldn’t be simple to get any wolf—let alone a very dominant, controlling, possessive male wolf—to resist claiming his mate. But the sad reality was that they had no other choice but to part ways, and he would know that.

Jaime knew he was nearing her before she even scented him. She was now totally aware of him and of every move he made, and this awareness prickled all over her skin and tantalized her nerve endings.

“I think you and I need to have a talk,” Dante said into her ear. He could easily hear the lust and desperation in his voice. If he didn’t get inside her soon, if he didn’t claim her, he was going to lose it.

“Really? What about?” Playing dumb probably wouldn’t work, but she figured that if she just kept denying him he might get pissed and march off in a huff—inadvertently giving her time to pack and leave.

Dante wasn’t surprised by her response. He’d known that she would fight this. While he acknowledged the sense and logic in that, he also knew that nothing would prevent him from claiming her. Not her, not her anxiety, and not the chance that he would die with her if she turned rogue and was killed. “Our room. Now.”

“Why?” She kept her manner cool, knowing it would irritate both him and his wolf. His warning growl proved her to be right.

“We need to talk in private.”

Acting confused, she shrugged. “Okay. But we can do that in the office.” She knew perfectly well what would happen if they were anywhere near a bed.

“Someone might disturb us there. Let’s take a walk outside.” Reluctantly, Jaime allowed Dante to lead her outside and down to the clearing by the lake.

Only then did he release her hand before coming to stand in front of her. “No more playing games, Jaime. You know exactly what this is about.”

“I know that you’re acting weird.”

“I get that you’re scared, baby, and I get why. But if you expect me not to claim you, you don’t know me at all.”

“Claim me?” She forced a disbelieving shake of the head. “I thought you were totally against imprinting.”

His wolf bared his teeth. “Don’t, Jaime. Denying who I am to you pisses my wolf and me off more than you can ever imagine.”

Good.
“On a serious note, did you bang your head or something, sweetie? Or maybe you’re talking in code. Yeah, I don’t understand code. I can speak Thundercat.”

“Jaime, this is a dangerous game you’re playing, baby. Stop. Now.”

“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out. I think I’ll just go on back to—”

“Don’t move, Jaime.” He went nose to nose with her. “You can keep on playing games, or you can acknowledge that I’m your mate, and we’ll discuss it like adults. Choose.”

“Your mate? You’re kidding, right?” Before she could see it coming, he wrapped one arm around her, pinning her own to her sides. With his free hand, he put pressure on the baroreceptor in the carotid artery at the base of her neck where it met her shoulder. Ten seconds or so later, she passed out.

God, who the hell was moaning? Oh, it was her, Jaime realized dazedly as she opened her eyes. It took no more than five seconds to remember exactly why she was in that daze. It was never a nice feeling waking up after blacking out, but it was worse when it had been your damn mate who sent you to dreamland. She’d kill the jerk.

Quickly it registered in her brain that that might be a little difficult right now. Not only were her wrists bound together, but they were pinned above her head. Pinned
to a tree
. Yes, two thick ropes—the same kind that he used for his cruel assault course—were securing her body to a tree; one was looped around her waist and the other was looped around her tied wrists. She really was going to kill him.

“Dante? Dante, what the hell is this?”

He didn’t appear or respond, but she knew he was there. Knew it. Repeatedly she squirmed and struggled within her bonds, ignoring the burning sensation it left on the flesh of her wrists and stomach. But no matter what she did, neither knot loosened even slightly. Similarly, the tie binding her wrists didn’t give. Because of how her hands were joined closely, as if in prayer, the only things her claws would have sliced open if she unsheathed them were her hands. So, yeah, okay, she had to face the fact that she was stuck to a tree. “I know you’re there. Get over here and untie me.” Her wolf was ready to tear out his throat.

A few moments later, Jaime watched as Dante slowly strolled out of the trees. He didn’t come close. He stopped at least five feet away from her, stiff as a board. He didn’t speak, didn’t move his gaze from hers, didn’t move at all. It was kind of eerie. Worse, his expression was completely blank.

There was no devilish smile, no playful twinkle in his eyes. “Untie me.” No response. “
Now
, Dante.” Nothing. “Stop being a jerk, Popeye! You want to talk? Fine, we’ll talk. Now untie me.” Still nothing.

Okay, now she was
really
freaked out. She had to wonder if this was what he was like when he was interrogating intruders, if this was that “zone” that Trey had mentioned. He wasn’t going to torture her into admitting he was her mate, was he? No, Dante wouldn’t hurt her. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that he would never ever hurt her.

When Dante saw the flash of fear on her face, he almost caved. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He knew she was spooked and feeling vulnerable, but that was the whole idea. He knew just how stubborn she could be. If Jaime didn’t want to do something, nothing in the world could make her. As such, if she wanted to put those damn walls of hers up again and keep him out, there was no way to get them down again. Not unless he stripped her of them. Not unless he made her as vulnerable and unguarded as she’d been when she held Kye in her arms. The only way to get her to admit the truth to both him and to herself was to lower those walls for just a minute.

Surprising Jaime, the robotic version of her male slowly came toward her. Although he didn’t close the distance between them, she could feel the heat emanating from him and covering her like a blanket. If he reached out, he could touch her. But he didn’t. And that unblinking stare was too eerie for words.

She kicked out at him, but he caught her foot and pulled off her shoe, slinging it aside.

Instinctively, she kicked out with her other foot, only for him to do the same damn thing. Irate beyond belief, she repeatedly kicked out at him, growling and snarling. Although she managed to make contact a few times, the big, overgrown male didn’t even flinch. In fact, he waited patiently, like a parent might do for a toddler having a tantrum.

Weary and panting, she finally stilled. “Let me down, Dante,” she said unsteadily. It wasn’t just her anxiety that had her feeling shaky. It was the intense, crushing, overwhelming urge to have him inside her, to mark him, and to have him mark her. In spite of how freaked she was feeling, need was curdling low in her belly, and she was wet and aching. Going by the low growl he released as his nostrils flared, he’d sensed it.

Finally, his blank gaze freed hers, and his eyes lowered to her T-shirt. Abruptly, he unsheathed his claws and tore it open. In another abrupt movement, he snapped open her bra, freeing her breasts.

He took a moment to look at them, hunger and lust blazing from his eyes, before shredding her jeans and panties. Her wolf growled in approval of his strength, aroused by the power in his body and the intensity of his mood. Apparently, the fact that he’d tied her to a tree was no longer so important to her wolf. Weird animal.

Cocking his head and pursing his lips, he slowly raked his eyes over her, much like a predator that had caught its prey and was assessing its worth. He took in every inch of her from her feet to her…throat. Her face didn’t seem relevant, as if all he viewed her as right now was a conveniently available body. That hurt.

“Dante, let me down.” To her infuriation and discomfort, he didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken. Ever so slowly he moved until there was only a hairbreadth between them, his eyes glued to her throat. Oh no. He was going to claim her right this second, like this. “Dante, enough is enough, all right. You’ve had your fun. Now untie this damn rope!”

Instead, he leaned forward and licked the crook of her neck. A shudder traveled down her spine and her clit tingled, making her gasp and moan. Again, he licked the same spot. And again. And again. Then he raked his teeth over it, and she squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what he was going to do and hating him for it. But, surprising the hell out of her, he suddenly dropped to his knees.

She watched as he inhaled deeply, taking the scent of her arousal inside him, but he didn’t lean forward as she’d expected him to. No. When he finally touched her, it was only to run his fingertip over her foot. She couldn’t help but moan in relief at the skin-to-skin contact. Taking his time, he explored every inch of her legs with the gentlest touch, sliding his hands over them like he’d never seen them before. Like he was learning her, worshipping her, memorizing her, marking her…but never was his touch seductive or invasive. He totally skipped her sensitive zones. It drove her freaking crazy, and she was breathing so heavily she thought she might hyperventilate.