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Chapter Twenty

ARIEL

I have no words to describe what just happened between me and Chomp. I feel as though I’ve had an out-of-body experience. Every touch, every caress, was designed to show me just how much I mean to him. While I don’t want to think about him, especially right now, making love with Chomp was light years away from what I experienced before. Even seeing Gator peering out at me, eyes hooded at half-mast, has me so full of emotion that I’m not sure whether I want to cry or laugh. I’ve never felt so cared for and cherished in my life.

“Are you okay?” Chomp asks as he glides his fingers over my back, holding me against his chest as we lay in bed.

It’s been hours since we left the tub and the bubble bath he drew for us. In all fairness, there wasn’t much water left by the time we exited. I don’t think Chomp minded the mess. He was beaming a wide grin as he picked me up, wrapped a towel around my wet body, and carried me into the bedroom. We’ve made love three more times since then and fell asleep, waking to birds chirping outside the windows.

It’s perfect. I’m so happy I feel like I’m floating on the clouds. “I’m wonderful. Better than wonderful,” I admit as I lift my head, staring into the warm brown eyes that I adore. For a brief second, he blinks, and I see the gator’s eyes. He never lets me forget that he’s there too. To protect, defend, and ensure I’m safe.

“We should eat something,” Chomp murmurs as his stomach rumbles. “We’ve burned a lot of calories.”

I feel my cheeks heat. “Yeah, I guess we did.”

Not that I’m complaining one single bit. Never in the history of ever did I think that sex would be that magical or explosive between two people. It doesn’t hurt that in addition to being sexy as hell, Chomp is a kind and considerate lover.

“I’ll cook anything you want,” he offers, and I know he will.

This time, I want to cook for him again. “You should know I make the best baked spaghetti and homemade garlic bread.”

His lips curl as I see the hunger enter his eyes. It’s for more than food. “My dove, you can make anything you want. I’ll just sit back and watch that sexy ass as you cook.” He gives my bottom a slap to prove his point. “I’m addicted to having you in my bed.”

“It’s a good thing I never plan to leave it.” Well, for sleeping anyhow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we’re not going anywhere,” he whispers huskily as his tongue licks up the side of my neck, causing a shiver to ghost along my spine.

I push him away as he pouts. His stomach growls a second time. “See? You need to feed that gator.”

He doesn’t argue. “Fine, but you should know Gator says he’s wasting away, and you should be impressed with our prowess.”

I snort. That gator.

Shaking my head with humor, I scramble from bed and pull on one of his shirts and a pair of my shorts. On the way out the door, I spot a hair tie and throw my long locks into a bun. When my gaze lands on my wrist, I feel tingly all over, and warmth spreads through me. My heart is so full.

I’m mated. To a gator . A biker. And an intense, muscled, and inked hunk of man. Wow.

I sure won the lottery when it came to Chomp.

* * *

Chomp let me cook for him, but he definitely assisted as well. He makes a good sous chef as I put my sauce on a low simmer after tossing everything into a huge pot. I’m actually impressed at the size of this thing; I feel like we’ll be eating pasta of some sort for days with how much I made. Now, Chomp is dicing up onions so I can cook some meatballs to add protein to the meal. I’ve come to learn that he needs a lot of it to sustain himself since his metabolism is so high.

“Chomp?” I ask as I brown more meat to add directly to the sauce.

“Yes, Dove?” he replies, busy wiping down the countertops since everything’s waiting for me to create the meatballs. The spaghetti is already cooked and waiting for me to finish with the sauce, so I can put it all together, then bake it. I’m still going to have more than enough sauce left for us to freeze, I suspect.

He cooks like I do; he cleans as he goes, which makes it far more enjoyable in my opinion. “With us being mated now, will I shift? Callie says that she does since she and Kodiak mated.”

“Gator says you’re going to be absolutely beautiful, and I agree, and that he’s planning to teach you everything you need to know about shifting and frolicking in the lake,” he says, chuckling while shaking his head.

“Will my gator talk to me, do you think?” I muse as I start smushing up the concoction and quickly put meatballs on a tray to slide into the oven. I’ll get them browned on all sides, then they’ll finish cooking as the meal itself bakes. I still need to make the cream cheese mixture that’ll have seasonings and add a creamy layer to the baked dish.

“I imagine so, but hopefully, yours doesn’t become so overly dramatic as mine,” he replies.

I giggle because even though I can’t hear his gator, I can only imagine, based on how he reacts sometimes, that he’s getting an earful.

We finish the meal and clean up, and sit down to eat, scooping the first few flavorful bites into our mouths. It’s nearly heaven with the homemade garlic bread and tossed salads we made. We’re both so hungry that we clean our plates. I almost contemplate licking mine.

Chomp adds a generous second helping as I pick up my glass and sip on sparkling strawberry-flavored water. It’s the most I’ve eaten in a long time, and I have to wonder if being a shifter’s mate means I’m going to have a healthy appetite like Chomp.

“I have so many questions,” I murmur as I watch him eat his second helping.

“Ask away, Ariel,” he says between bites. “If I don’t know the answer, I’ll figure out who we can talk to, okay?”

“It’s a lot to take in, Chomp, but I honestly couldn’t ask for anyone better to help me navigate all of this than you and Gator, of course.”

While I can admit that Gator is sometimes extreme in his behavior, what I know about mates, which could admittedly fit in a thimble, is that males are always zeroed in on their female. They worry about them, and with how Chomp and I met, I understand why he’s almost overzealous with my protection and safety. That thought brings up another question that I blurt out. “I’m a little nervous about going to see a therapist, Chomp. I mean, I know I need to do it to get past all the crap that was shoveled down my throat that I believed as though it was gospel, but I’m not having nightmares any longer. Do you think it’s really necessary?”

His voice is gentle as he gives me a small nod. “Yes. I think you could use someone to talk to who isn’t quite so invested in every word you speak.” He sets down his fork and reaches for my hand, covering it with his much larger one. “I want you to feel open to say whatever you’re feeling with me, but I suspect there may be some things, female-oriented maybe, that I might not be able to understand as fully.”

He’s right. I know I can talk to Callie, and she’s there for me, but a professional won’t judge me for the things I’m afraid to admit or remember out loud. If those things linger, they might cause friction with Chomp, and I would never want that. “I don’t know who to go to. You know anyone?”

“Callie helps Cheryl at Mercy Falls Refuge with the foster kids. I’m pretty sure she’s got contacts who are therapists, since many of the kids likely need help processing what’s happened in their lives. I’m positive she can put you in touch with Cheryl.”

“Then I’ll ask for Cheryl’s number the next time I see Callie,” I promise.

I watch him shake his head, then he admits, “Gator says he’s willing to bite anyone else who’s ever hurt you, but he won’t scare you by eating them.”

I can’t help it, I start giggling. The topic may be a bit unconventional, but my life has been ever since Chomp came roaring into my life. “He probably shouldn’t go around biting those who’ve hurt me in the past, Chomp. We can’t have everyone knowing I’ve got a strong, handsome shifter with an enormous, obsessive, overzealous gator who protects me so well.”

I’m flirting a little, not just with Chomp, but with Gator too.

He’s about to reply when his phone rings. Pulling it out of his pocket, he smirks when he sees who’s calling and says, “Pres.”

Since he put the call on speaker, I hear Spike’s voice thundering down the line as he says, “Don’t wanna know what you’re up to, just need you to get to the clubhouse, Chomp. Bring Ariel.”

Before Chomp can say anything at all, the line disconnects, leaving us staring at each other. There’s a bewildered expression on his face and something I can’t place in his chocolatey brown eyes. I see a hint of the gator as he wrestles with what Spike didn’t say, which is a lot.

“Let me get this cleaned up,” I state, standing and gathering dishes. I’m pretty sure Spike wants us there as quickly as possible, but I will take a few minutes to wrap up the minimal leftovers. The dishes, however, can wait, so I stack them in the sink and run water over them before I pull out some aluminum foil and wrap the baking dish, then slide it into the refrigerator.

“Need you to put on some clothes, Ariel. Preferably jeans,” Chomp announces, giving me a once over.

“Okay. Any reason why?”

He grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m taking you for a ride.”

I squeal with excitement because I’ve been looking forward to this and scamper up the stairs, rushing around to find jeans, socks, and a long-sleeved top. Once I’m dressed, I dart into the bathroom and begin braiding my hair, searching for a hair tie as Chomp appears in the doorway. He watches me with an unhurried gaze, raking it down my body and up again as if he can’t get enough of me. When I pause to wink at him, I see the gator flash in his eyes.

Wow. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of how they both seem to devour my presence and salivate for it. I’ve never known anything like this. It’s intoxicating and makes me clench my thighs together. There’s no denying I feel arousal after what we’ve experienced together, and I’m eager to return to bed and continue our exploration, but it’ll have to wait.

Chomp groans. “Stop looking at me like that, dove. I’m gonna strip those jeans off, feast on your pretty pussy, and then Spike will kick my ass for showing up late.”

I can’t help grinning at the thought. “You sure we can’t take ten minutes?”

He pushes off the doorway where he's been leaning against it and stalks toward me, sliding his large hands around my waist and lower, to cup my backside. “Don’t tempt me, my gorgeous mate.” His lips brush mine and I know if we linger, he’ll lose the fight and give in.

Still, I tease him. “Hmmm, and I wanted to taste you this time.”

His body goes still, and I hear the gator make a noise in his throat. “Bike. Now.” He swats my bottom. “And you’re gonna be sorry later when I won’t let you come up for air without coming at least three times.”

I don’t think I will be, but I don’t say it. Where this brazen, sexually driven desire has come from, I’m not sure, but I like it. It feels freeing and wonderful. It’s definitely a far cry from who I was mere months ago, that’s for sure.

Outside, Chomp throws a leg over his bike and begins giving me instructions. I’m not even allowed to climb on behind him until I can repeat every one of his safety rules. It’s cute, overbearing, and humorous. He’s too much, and just enough at the same time.

But it’s when my arms are wrapped around him, and we roll forward, the wind sweeping over our skin, that’s when I know I want to be with Chomp and ride his Harley for the rest of my life. Sure, I knew in the bathtub I’m his mate, especially after his claws marked me. But now, feeling this freedom, protected, safe, and with his love, it’s healing me in ways I never could have dreamed.

The ride isn’t long, and I find that I wish we could have stayed on the road, but when I see the clubhouse, and take in the enormity of the old ski lodge, I begin to feel nervous. The building is huge and it’s full of people. The long glass panes reveal some of the club members and other shifters I’ve met along with ones I haven’t. I spot Kodiak and Callie and remind myself that these are my people, err family, now too. We share a bond because I’m mated to Chomp.

I relax my shoulders as we glide into a parking spot. Chomp rises off his seat and removes my helmet, reaching for my hand as we approach the steps leading up to the heavy wooden double doors. They fling open and I see a woman standing there. She gasps as she spots Chomp.

His hand releases mine and he’s so still, I wonder who she is to him. I’m about to ask when he utters a single word. One that’s so full of emotion and longing that my knees almost buckle. I can feel the ache in his chest.

“Mom.”