KADE
"Yes." He hesitated and then added, "You're only three years older than I am. You're still young enough to have children."
"That's the only reason Saul couldn't be alpha, you know."
"I know." Saul Addison had the mind and the heart of an alpha, but a genetic mutation had robbed him of the ability to have children.
An alpha had to breed, had to create the next generation of leaders. Saul formally renounced his claim and became a historian and archivist not only for the Moon Pack, but for the entire werewolf culture. He became a well regarded scholar in both human and werewolf circles, and taught ancient history at a local university. He'd chosen not to mate and spent nearly his entire life alone—at least until he met Lilly.
"I admit that I miss the pack. The life I had there." She shook her head, bemused. "But I can't go back to the past."
"Then come with me into the future."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Okay, Kade. I'll be yours."
"And I'll be yours," he said.
She canted her head. "I suppose that's true as well." Her mouth lifted into a crooked half-smile. "You need to scent me, right?"
"The sooner, the better."
"Come with me," she said, standing up. She held out her hand, and he rose to take it. He flicked his gaze at the laptop, and she said, "It'll be fine."
He noticed she'd also forgone her shoes.
She led him across the gleaming marble floor of the coffee shop, past the glass counter with offerings of pastries and chilled drinks, and into the ladies bathroom.
He locked the door behind them.
Now, that she'd obviously committed to his scenting of her by taking him to a private location, she seemed to run out of steam.
While she gathered her nerve, or so he suspected, he took stock of the small bathroom. It was painted mauve and had framed pictures of flowers with swooping lines of poetry bleeding over the edge of the petals. There were two stalls; the doors were open and revealed typical white toilets. The counter was a marbled pink and gold with two sinks. It smelled nice for a bathroom, probably due to the air freshener occasionally hissing from the discreet devices placed on the walls.
She placed a hand on her cocked hip and looked him over. "Well?"
He smiled. Then he enchained her wrists and backed her against the only wall without a dryer or paper dispenser. He liked the way her breath hitched and her eyes went wide. She wet her lips and looked at him, those blue, blue eyes sparking with desire.
God, she was sexy.
"Keep your arms above your head pressed against the wall, crossed at the wrists."
He could see the debate raging behind those blue, blue eyes. How far would she let him push her?
The alpha ruled all, including his woman.
But if his woman wasn't strong, if she didn't chafe a little at the constraints put on her—well, she wasn't as strong as he needed or as challenging as he wanted.
Another minute crawled by before he saw her capitulation, but knew she'd drawn a boundary. If he crossed it, tried more than the scenting, he'd find her knee in his crotch, her manicured nails in his eyes.
The very idea she might well hand him his ass just made him harder, made him want her more. She was tough, and he appreciated that iron core as much as the softness surrounding it.
He let go of her arms, and she left them above her head, lazily crossing the wrists as though she wanted to do it, instead of conceding to obedience. She even looked amused, as if she were indulging him.
Yeah, honey, keeping looking at me like that. He wasn't blind. He saw the way her chest rose and fell erratically, as if she couldn't catch her breath. Her eyes were dilated, and her tongue flicked against that plump lower lip.
Every fantasy he'd ever had about her came to the forefront, and tested his control. His wolf struggled for dominance. Take her. Take her all.
No.
Scenting her let other werewolves know she belonged to him. They wouldn't dare make a move on his intended mate, not unless they wanted a full out werewolf battle with the alpha.
He unbuttoned the top of her Capri pants and lowered the zipper. Then he pushed the material off her hips. She watched him through hooded eyes, and he could smell the musk of her arousal.
He resisted the urge to play with the nipples poking against her gauzy blouse. He allowed himself a moment to think about her breasts, about their soft weight cupped in his hands. What color were those peaks? Dusky or coral?
He sucked in a breath and tried to induce some calm. He sank to his knees and pressed a kiss against her rounded belly, flicking his tongue along velvet skin. Her hips were round, too, but perfect. Sexy.
Here were the curves of a real woman who knew her worth and not an emancipated girl still searching for hers within calorie counts and yogurt containers.
She wore black silk panties—the kind a woman bought for herself because she wanted to feel beautiful.
And she was.
He drew the panties down, his own breathing unsteady as he revealed the treasure underneath. The trimmed, narrow strip of hair was naturally blonde. It looked as soft and fine like peach fuzz, and there … oh, yes, the juicy center of his favorite kind of fruit. His fingers trembled as he peeled back that delectable skin and looked at the glistening pink.
He leaned forward and breathed her in, her womanly musk offered a more glorious scent than any perfume. He kissed those glossy folds and reveled in the moan she graced him with. He would please her, and later, when they mated, they would please each other.
His slid his tongue over her flesh, gently lapping the evidence of her desire. His cock was so hard it felt as though it might burst from the tight confines of his jeans.
The urge to take her, to slam her against the wall, and fill her with his cock was damned near overwhelming...