Wolf’s Princess (27 page)

“I don’t know. It could go either way. The mayor and his buddies are used to having things their way. I’m not sure they believe the people will actually riot.”

“Well, today proves they’re wrong.”

“Ah, Rose.” His arm brushed against hers when he shifted on the bed. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But all they’ll see is that the City Guard put down the trouble with little effort.”

She was silent for a long moment. “Do you have a plan for what will happen if the vote fails and people do riot?”

Now he was silent. Seconds stretched into minutes. She’d almost started a new topic when he finally spoke. “I sent Mike and White Horse to find Rye Thomas and bring him to Omaha.”

“Rye Thomas?”

His voice dropped to a near whisper. “He was against the Women Acts. I hope he can talk sense into his father. Or if not, some of the men on the Council and in the Guard were his friends. Maybe he could get them to follow his lead.”

Rose didn’t know Rye Thomas well. He was always welcome at the den, because he’d been instrumental in rescuing Ellie, and because he specifically brought them merchandise he knew Carla wanted, like guitar strings. But he struck her as a stubborn man who went his own way.

“What if he doesn’t want to come?” she asked. “I mean, he’s never come back to Omaha before, and he has his own business to run.”

“He’s a trader. With the railroad transporting goods faster and cheaper than his wagons can, I bet his business isn’t as lucrative as it once was. Maybe he’s looking for a change.”

“Maybe.” She hoped things wouldn’t get too bad. Sky called the fight today a small one. Three people died, and a dozen were hurt, and houses burned down, but he thought that was small compared to what could happen. She clasped her hands together, clenching her fingers over each other. “This is terrible,” she whispered.

He turned then, and in the dark she didn’t see his arm until he had it wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “It’ll be okay, Rose. I should be sorry you’re here. Taye would not be happy if he knew how dangerous Omaha was right now, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

With her face and upper torso smashed into his bare shoulder she wasn’t sure where to put her hands. He smelled so good, and he felt even better, so firm and warm. She carefully put a hand on the headboard and one on his other shoulder. This embrace felt too good to be safe. It would be so easy to find his lips in the dark. She gently pulled away.

“We should try to get some sleep now.”

He let her go. “Yes.”

She slid down the bed and made herself comfortable on her back with her hands folded over her stomach. The mattress shifted as he did the same. His hand found one of hers and brought it to his lips.

“I don’t know what happened to make you decide to claim the Lupa spot, but I’m glad you did. You were magnificent this morning, princess.”

The warmth of delight washed through her. He made the nickname an endearment. She hadn’t forgotten her irritation with him, though. “Why did you let those two twits crawl all over you?”

He sounded ridiculously meek. “I was hoping you would react.”

She made a rude noise, but gave his fingers a quick squeeze before pulling her hand away. “Good night, Sky.”

She wasn’t sure the awareness of a male body beside her would allow her to sleep. Having someone in bed with her wasn’t conducive to sleep. He smelled so good she wanted to roll right into him and press her nose into his neck. If she did that, she’d be right up against the smooth muscles she hadn’t seen. She had a good idea what he looked like. The men at the den seldom wore shirts. She’d never lain beside any of them in bed though, and even if she had, they wouldn’t have affected her this way. The descriptions in the romance novels she read hadn’t prepared her for this deep longing to explore his body. How could she ever fall asleep with him so close?

But she must have slept, because she roused hours later, her heart thundering in the aftermath of a frightening dream where houses burned and men bled. Lying on her side, she pulled her knees up to her chest, and struggled to control her breathing. Her stomach jumped when she felt alien warmth against her back. Sky. Right, she was in his bed. She clamped a hand over her mouth so her rough breathing wouldn’t disturb him. Of course that didn’t work. He lunged up and curled over her like a wolf protecting his mate.

“Rose. What’s wrong?” His voice was sharp and urgent, not fuzzed by sleep. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice wasn’t sharp. There was an uneven edge to it even though she tried to speak crisply. “Just a bad dream.”

His arm hooked around her waist and pulled her back snugly against his front. She stiffened, her breath even more jerky than before. “What was the dream about?” he asked in her ear.

The dream, which had been fading, rushed back in a tangle of fear and anger. “It was about Odell and her house burning and those men being killed.” A tremor worked its way down her back. Sky stroked a hand over her shoulder and down her arm. It felt alarmingly good. “In the dream, I felt like I was there and the City Guards were trying to kill me.”

Sky tightened his arm around her waist and growled into the hair at her nape. “There’s nobody here but me and you. You’re safe. I will always keep you safe.”

He would. Rose knew he would. Any of the men at the den would have said the same thing, and she would believe them too. Still, it was different with Sky. Somehow, it felt even more personal. Well, sure, she was cuddling with him in his bed, but more than that. For Paint and Stone and Taye she was a sister. Sky was her mate. Right at this moment he made her feel completely safe. Slowly the tension eased from her shoulders. Her spine relaxed against the warmth of his bare torso. She was tempted to turn in the dark and touch him. She swallowed and let out a long breath. “Yeah, I believe you. I’m okay now. I can go back to sleep.”

It took her a long time to drift off again. If Sky were still behaving like a jerk it would be easy to keep her distance from him. The concern in his voice when he asked what was wrong broke through her walls. And the feel of his mostly naked body pressed against hers made her want things. Those things could result in a child, which she dearly wanted, but right now she wasn’t thinking about babies. She just wanted him.

The question was should she want him?
No
, she told herself, the real question was,
should I accept him
?

*

The sun wasn’t up yet when Sky woke. His left arm tingled with the pins-and-needles feeling that came from having lain on it too long, but he didn’t move, because his mate was still sleeping cuddled against him. Her cheek pressed to the hollow of his throat. Did her right arm tingle from having slept on it? Her left arm was draped over him, and his right arm was over her. He smiled. They must have slept face-to-face in an embrace. Waking up with her like this was the most wonderful thing he could imagine. The only thing better would be if she wasn’t wearing the cotton gown and he weren’t wearing these stupid shorts.

Her breath tickled his throat and his body responded. Carefully, he eased his hips away from her. He didn’t want to. His body screamed at him to press closer. His mind knew better. Rose wasn’t willing to accept even his kisses yet. Anything more would have her storming across the hall to the other room and slamming the door shut in his face.

She drew in a breath, eyes still closed, before rolling away from him onto her back. Her movement slid her breast neatly into his palm. He froze, not even breathing, just as her eyes shot open. She looked down where his brown hand cupped her breast, and then stared, wide-eyed, in his direction. Was it light enough for her to see him? He didn’t think so. His own eyes felt wide. He should move his hand. He should apologize. He should get up and run for the shower before she noticed how his cock reacted to the feel of her warm flesh beneath the cotton.

He did none of those things. Without any conscious direction from his brain, his hand cupped her more firmly. When his thumb stroked back and forth over her nipple she gasped. His gaze finally left her eyes to stare at her parted lips the way he would stare at a cool stream after being stranded without water for three days.

“I want to kiss you,” he said in a voice that sounded too raw to belong to him.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“I don’t care.”

Her gaze slanted down again to her chest where he still held her breast, and then came back toward his face. “Okay.”

The whisper was so low he almost didn’t hear it. Or maybe he just didn’t quite believe it. He lunged up on one elbow to stare down at her. She licked her lips and reached a hand as if to touch him. He gently guided it to the back of his neck. The pressure she exerted on his nape was so slight he barely felt it, but he knew an invitation when he felt one. There was an almost imperceptible tremble in the fingers of the hand he lifted from her breast to smooth over her cheek to her chin.

Don’t attack her like a ravenous beast
, he ordered himself.
Be gentle.

He tried. Kissing someone gently was unknown territory for him. Kissing at all was unknown territory. Except for his mother, Rose was the only woman he’d ever kissed, and the few kisses he’d given Rose were not the same sort he’d given his mother. He brushed his lips lightly over hers, inwardly shivering at the feel of her breath against his lips. He did it again, lingering to touch his tongue to her bottom lip.

He braced himself, snatching at self-control with fierce desperation. One minute he was barely touching her, and the next his tongue was sliding along hers in her mouth. It took every ounce of his discipline, but he kept the kiss gentle. Her fingertips left trails of fire as she ran them up and down his back, pausing to stroke his hair at the nape of his neck, and then digging them into the muscles of his shoulders. Control frayed. She wasn’t just submitting to his kiss; she was participating. Hell, encouraging him. His blood was molten lava, most of it heading for his cock. He could feel the soft mounds of her breasts pressing against his chest. God, he wanted her. When he kissed along her jaw to her throat he could feel her blood pounding under her delicate skin. Her scent was laced with the musky tang of arousal. Knowing she was aroused too made his restraint unravel. The damn blanket was twisted around their legs, keeping him from rubbing his cock against her. He needed to feel her. He loved caressing her face and arms, but he wanted to feel that place between her legs.

With rough, impatient hands he tore the blanket away and tossed it aside. He paused to drink in the sight of her. The room wasn’t light, but with his wolf-born sight he could see every detail: The hem of her nightdress twisted up to her waist, the prim white cotton of her underpants hiding her secret place, her pale, silky thighs slightly parted, as if she were inviting him in. Holding his breath, he reached in awe to touch the cotton shielding her pussy. And let it out in a shocked, pained howl as razor-sharp claws sliced into his ankle.

“Fuck!” He saw twin beams of feline eyes glaring at him. “Damn cat.”

A sharp kick dislodged the cat. She leaped in an arc of bristling brown fur to the floor. The cat sounded like a full grown panther when she screamed defiance at him. When Rose shoved him off and scrambled over him to get out of bed, her knee landed like a sledgehammer in his groin. White-hot agony shot through his entire body. His scream drowned out the cat’s. When Rose snapped the light on, he was curled around himself, dragging in breath through tightly clenched teeth.

“Poor Mitzi,” his mate crooned.

Poor Mitzi?
Still huddled around his injury, he looked over his shoulder and saw his mate bent over the cursed cat. The sight of her nightgown riding up to show her long legs and generous ass did nothing to calm his temper. If it hadn’t been for the stupid cat, his hands would be exploring those curves right now. He would kill it. He’d do it quietly, so Rose wouldn’t know. But accidents happened to cats every day, didn’t they? This evil little beast was due an accident. A fatal accident. And Sky would be there to comfort his mate when her pet turned up dead.

Rose stood up, cradling the cat tenderly to the breast he’d just caressed. She cast him an accusing glare. “I don’t think she’s hurt, thank goodness. You could have killed her!”

He hadn’t touched the damn cat. Yet. “I wish I had,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

She let out a gasp of angry horror. “Just when I thought I didn’t hate you anymore, you say something awful like that. How can you be so mean to a helpless cat?”

“Helpless?” He dared roll onto his back, but he kept his knees raised to ease the pain in his abused cock. He jerked the sheet up to his chin because her accusing eyes made him feel vulnerable. “That damn cat is about as helpless as a grizzly bear.”

“Ha!” She reached one-handed to jerk a dresser drawer open and snatch up some clothes. “I’m going to shower.”

He lay on his back, glaring at the slammed door. With every pulse of pain he clenched his teeth over a moan. When he heard the shower come on, he decided he had to get up. Carefully, he got out of bed, assessing the pain with each move he made. A human man might have been incapacitated for days after having a knee planted so forcefully into his groin. As a wolf warrior, he would fully recover in a matter of hours. He hoped. Right now he was afraid he was crippled for life.

He dressed with exquisite care. Sliding the shorts off was a delicate operation. Pulling a pair of slacks on was equally delicate. Normally on a Sunday morning he would wear jeans but slacks had a looser and more forgiving fit, something he was sure his cock was desperately grateful for. Once the zipper was up he blew out a sigh of relief and shrugged on a casual knit shirt.

A light tap sounded on the door and it opened an inch. “Are you decent?” Rose asked through the crack.

Decent? Probably not. “I’m dressed,” he called. Oh, lord, it was true; a man who’d been kicked in the balls could sing soprano. He cleared his throat and tried to lower his voice. “Come in.”

She came in and stood with one hand still on the door knob, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry about…about this morning. Are you okay?”