Wolf's Oath (After the Crash 3.25) (6 page)

“I swear to keep you safe even if I have to die to do it,” he said in a clear, low voice. Connie’s mouth parted in breathless surprise. She was vaguely aware the other bridegrooms were speaking the same words, but all she heard was the fierce sincerity in Des’ voice. “I will never raise my hand to you or do anything to hurt you. You, as my mate, will be my best friend and most precious treasure for the rest of my days.”

Why were tears stinging her eyes? Connie clamped her back teeth together to force them back. Tears might be traditional at weddings, but she never cried. She might have lost track of the ceremony while she fought with her disgusting weakness, because before she was entirely ready, the priest pronounced her Mrs. Desmond Wolfe and Des’ lips were warm and soft on hers.

It was a quick, light kiss, not the sort to get a woman revved up, but a pang of pure lust drove through her at the feel of his lips. Her hands raised to push him away, but tangled in the heavy silk of his hair laying over his chest instead. Damn, he smelled good. And when she pushed her tongue into the heat of his mouth she found he tasted even better. Howls bawled out from the dozens of men watching, wrenching her back to herself. She jerked her hands from his hair and curled them into fists to keep from grabbing him again. He looked down at her with a white, slanted smile that looked far too smug, and way too hot.

Feeling strangely weak, and horribly embarrassed, she turned to accept the congratulations of fifty men she didn’t know. Dear God, she was married now.

Des forced himself to let Connie go. He immediately mourned the loss of the intriguing weight of her body against his. His wolf howled a demand that he grab their mate and carry her to the room he’d cleaned this afternoon. He calmed himself with the promise that after supper he would explore the exciting heat of her mouth at leisure in the privacy of their room.

Amid the raucous, joyous howls of his pack mates, he carefully signed his name on the marriage certificate Father John wrote out. Seeing his name written with Connie’s on the card flipped his stomach with fierce delight. The longer side of her pale hair swung loose as she bent to sign her name. The ring he’d slid on her finger a few minutes ago glittered on her left hand, flattened on the table to steady herself as she signed.
Mine
, he thought.
My mate. My wife. Mine.

“We’ll need to get a frame,” Carla told Taye in a soft voice.

“Yeah,” Taye agreed, a note of the same pride and possession that flooded Des in his voice. “We’ll leave them here for the time being, though, on the fireplace mantel.”

“We should put them under the glass you salvaged from the windows at the Barker place,” she suggested. “To protect them.”

“Good idea.” Taye flicked a finger at Snake. “Go get the glass,” he ordered, and the younger wolf went out to obey. “Hungry, sweetheart?”

Supper was served straight away after the marriage certificates were signed. Des enjoyed a hearty meal as much as any other wolf warrior, and Renee was a fine cook, but nothing smelled as good as his mate’s scent. Nothing compared to the taste of her mouth. They sat at the head table with the Chief and the Lupa, and the other newlyweds. Connie sat between him and Taye. The lamplight gleamed on the tiny teardrops dripping from the bottom edge of a wide hoop from her ear as she ate. The earrings fascinated him. Or perhaps it was the sight of his mate’s earlobe. Could he nibble it with the earring in or would he have to remove it? He brushed the trembling jewels with his lips when he leaned close to inhale her scent.

His mate seemed to be trying to avoid him. In fact, over the course of the meal, she inched closer to Taye and further from him. He couldn’t control his wolf’s demand that he pursue her. Each time she shifted away he closed the space between their bodies. Taye shot him a pointed stare. Connie was all but pressed to Taye’s side. Des forced himself to sit back.

Renee brought out a cake that glistened with white frosting that looked as sweet and light as air. Des liked sweets. All the wolves loved to eat cake and pie and cookies, but they’d seldom had such things until Renee had come to live in the den.

“We don’t have individual cakes for each couple,” Renee said in an apologetic tone. “But I cut squares for each couple to share.”

Jelly, the youngest of the wolves at fourteen, sounded whiney when he said, “What about the rest of us?”

“Plenty for everyone,” Renee said, waving a hand at her mate, Bobby Hawk in Flight, who was coming out of the kitchen with a sheet cake carefully balanced in each hand. Jelly quickly relieved him of one sheet cake and carried it to the last table.

The Lupa rose to her feet. “In the Times Before, it was tradition for the bride and groom to feed each other a bite of cake. Do they still do that?”

Des had never heard of such a tradition, but he was happy to do it, if it pleased Connie. Renee set a plate holding a five-inch square of cake on the table between he and Connie. At the Lupa’s urging, all the newly wedded couples stood.

Connie looked at the cake, and then at him. “We’re supposed to feed each other cake at the same time.” She used her knife to cut their portion of cake into quarters, then picked up a piece with her fingers. “Ready?”

Des saw the other couples doing the same. Perhaps it was supposed to be a symbol that he would provide for her. No. That would be him feeding her, not each of them feeding the other. He liked the idea of each of them providing for the other. He took the morsel of cake between brown fingers, and tried to be gentle with it. “Okay.”

The wolves howled while they watched this odd ritual. Odd, but satisfying, since his mate had to pay attention to him while she lifted the cake to his lips. He barely noticed the cake he swallowed. He watched Connie lick frosting off her upper lip and nearly shuddered with the need to do it for her. Soon, he told himself. Soon.

She sat down, eyes focused on him, brows lowered. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” he whispered.

A slight flush rose to her cheeks. “Well, stop it. Sit down. Eat your cake.”

He sat, liking her blush and her commanding tone. He picked up his fork, cut a bite of the cake, and offered it to her. “I’d rather eat you.”

“Des!” Her flush heated to fiery crimson and she darted a glance around. “Stop it!” she hissed, pushing the fork away. “We’re not doing that, remember?”

He put the cake in his mouth. Sugary sweetness melted on his tongue. Delicious. He swallowed, still staring at the line of his mate’s jaw as she ostentatiously turned her head away from him. The cake couldn’t compare with the taste of his mate.

He cut another bite of cake and ate it slowly. He was doing something wrong. Connie wasn’t a shy woman. What he knew of her told him she was strong and direct, an Alpha female. But she wouldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t let him sit close to her. His wolf was a simple creature. He wanted them to mate. Wolves didn’t comprehend the nuances of human emotions and behavior. Des wasn’t sure he did either. But he needed to learn. His relationship with this woman was too important to spoil.

Faron Paulson walked from his place at the next table to his mother and bent to kiss her cheek. His voice was low but not too low for a wolf to hear. “Congratulations, Mama. I have to head back to town now.” He reached a hand for Red Wing to shake.

Marissa was smiling through tears while she watched her son leave. “He’s all grown up,” she whispered to her mate, tears glimmering in her eyes.

Taye stood up, holding his mate’s hand. “Good night,” he said to the dining hall.

Finally! The night was young, but not too young for newlyweds to go to their rooms. Des jumped to his feet, abandoning his uneaten cake, and grabbed Connie’s wrist to pull her down the hall.

In the room he’d lived in for twelve years, he released her to light the lamp he’d brought in when he’d changed the sheets for tonight. He set it on the floor in the middle of the room. The room of an unmated wolf was stark. He watched Connie’s gaze sweep around the space, pausing for a moment on the bed, the only piece of furniture he had. He’d seldom used the bed, preferring to sleep on a pile of blankets on the floor. His few pieces of clothing were stored in the closet. There were no rugs on the floor, no pictures on the walls, and no knickknacks like the people in Kearney liked to display. Did she have things like that? Probably not, since they would have been left behind in the Times Before. They would have one thing to display, though: their marriage certificate. Pride and possession swelled his chest.

“So,” Connie said, arms folded and eyes narrowed. “What are we doing here?”

He stepped closer to draw her scent deeply into his lungs. “It’s our wedding night.”

She took a long step back. “Uh-huh. We’re going back to the House tonight, right?”

“No, it’s too late to go back. Too dangerous in the dark.”

Her earrings jingled faintly when her head jerked. “What about Faron?”

“He left.”

“Yeah? Isn’t it too dangerous for him to walk back?”

“No, he’s a man, and he hasn’t broken an ankle in the last few months. You are avoiding the subject.”

“What subject?”

Des felt a smile curve his lips. “Our wedding night.”

Her mouth flattened into a straight line. “I told you we don’t know each other. I don’t sleep with men I don’t know.”

Her brow creased and her voice wobbled a bit. He wondered if she remembered sleeping with him last night, or if she was thinking about something else. He remembered the solid warmth of her body beside his last night with a mix of quiet contentment and violent delight.

Her voice strengthened. “Besides, I don’t have anything here. You know, my toothbrush, clean clothes for tomorrow, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Taye has extra toothbrushes on hand. I’ll bring you one.”

She hooked the longer side of her hair behind her ear. “Des, you’re not listening to me. I won’t have sex with you tonight.”

Her scent, sweet but tinged with something too close to fear, softened him. “All right. I was only teasing you.” He reached his hand to her cheek, slowly and cautiously, as if she were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook, and stroked his hand down her face to rest on her shoulder. Her face was soft, like a velvety rose petal, her shoulder strong. “I would never force you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I…” She looked directly at his face, studying him for a long moment. “Yeah.”

He told his agitated wolf to shut up. He wasn’t going to take anything from her she didn’t give him willingly. “Okay, I’ll go out to the storage shed and get a toothbrush. While I’m gone, you can change for bed. My clothes are in the closet. Take what you like.”

“I’m not tiny like Sherry, but anything of yours will still be way too big on me.”

He shrugged. “Loose is good for sleeping, right?” And seeing her in something that belonged to him might calm the wolf. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. We can talk then. Get to know each other better, before we go to sleep.” He turned to the door, and paused, looking back at her in the golden glow of the oil lamp. “Connie, we’ll sleep together tonight, like we did last night. No sex unless you say so.”

Out in the hall he took a deep breath and let it out. They were married. Connie hadn’t accepted his mate claim, but in the eyes of the world she belonged to him. It would have to be enough for now.

From the room across the hall he heard Hawk say, “Hush, sweetness. The kitchen clean up isn’t your worry. The boys will take care of it. Open your legs for me.” And then a deep breathy moan from Renee. At least Hawk was enjoying his wedding night. As he strode down the dark hallway, the rhythmic thumps of lovemaking from the Chief and Lupa’s room did nothing to calm his wolf. He tightened the chokehold he had on the beast and went to fetch a toothbrush for his skittish mate.

Connie wouldn’t have described herself as skittish. Skittish was a prissy word, and Connie wasn’t prissy. She wasn’t stupid either. Sleeping in her jeans would be uncomfortable. She marched to the closet and found three pairs of sweatpants, and two long-sleeved T-shirts and two short-sleeved T-shirts. She picked a pair of sweats and one of the long-sleeved T-shirts. She quickly pulled off her jeans and shirt, and put Des’ clothes on. Looking at them closely told her they weren’t like the knits from her time. It was another reminder that home was gone forever. A few pairs of thick wool socks were neatly rolled in the back of the shelf. They were too big, but she put one pair on anyway. She folded her clothes neatly and put them on an empty shelf in the closet. There was another door, but when she tried to turn the doorknob she found it was either stuck or locked. Probably a nonfunctioning bathroom from the Times Before.

It was cold in here, as cold as her room back at the Plane Women’s House would be. Last night was the first night she’d woken feeling comfortable in this new world. She might want to keep a little distance from Des, but his body heat was simply too alluring. Not to mention his scent. Having sex with him would be easy. How many times had she privately drooled over that perfect body? But she didn’t want to have meaningless sex ever again.

She crossed the frigid room to the bed and sat down. In the months after Paul’s death her grief and loneliness had driven her to do stupidly desperate things. Once she’d tried to find comfort in bed with a visiting pilot. He would be on base only one night before flying back out and all she wanted was one night of passion with someone she could connect with. He hadn’t comforted her. Maybe he’d tried, but all she felt the next morning was sordid shame and she was glad when he’d left.

She’d done the same thing a month later with a man she felt she knew well, one she respected. He was transferring back to the States in a month, and she thought they’d have a good time until then. She found passion with him, but no connection. She hadn’t wanted a commitment from him, just some sort of bond, however brief and superficial it might be. His attitude in the following days made it plain he was looking for some time in the sack, and nothing else, so she broke it off. Working with him for the next three weeks until his transfer had resulted in too many awkward silences. Staff meetings were agonizing. Even the casual friendship between them had died an icy death. She didn’t want to experience that with Des.

Of course, who said sex with Des had to be meaningless? These wolves mated for life. They could build a lasting relationship over the next forty years or so, starting tonight. Maybe.

The door opened to admit her new husband. Handsome, amazing Des. She tried to not stare hungrily at him. It wouldn’t be fair to deny him sex and then openly lust for his body.

“Toothbrush,” he said, holding the hand-carved wooden toothbrush out to her.

“Thanks.” She stood up to take it. “Where do I brush my teeth?”