Page 12 of Forsaken Desire (Ruthless Wolves #1)

There was only one explanation. My mate. I shut the door behind me, scanning the small living room. The place was unrecognizable. A tan leather sofa sat against the wall, across from a huge, mounted television. My toe snagged on the edge of the entrance rug.

A stainless-steel stove replaced the white, dilapidated one that had been there before, and the matching fridge sat to the side with a screen on the front.

The entire space had taken on a clean, classic look with the additions.

I kicked off my shoes, not wanting to dirty anything up, and shuffled across to my bedroom, almost scared to open it.

My heart thudded violently in my chest. My jaw dropped at what awaited me.

A ceiling fan had been installed, and the light bulb replaced with a glass sconce.

The bed frame was the craziest part. It was almost too big; it took up half the room. I stepped onto the cream carpet that had replaced the worn one from before.

What had Lucian done? I entered apprehensively. I slid my fingertips along the comforter, silkier than anything I’d ever touched. My lip trembled, and I bit down on it. Maybe I had touched something similar before, but all my memories consisted of cold walls and a creaky mattress in my cell.

I breathed out slowly. Leaning against the side of the bed, I slid down until I was on my butt.

My forehead throbbed, not helping the nausea blooming in my stomach.

On one hand, this was such a thoughtful thing to do, but my pride had taken a blow.

It showed me how over my head I was and how bad his end of the stick was in having me as his fated mate.

He’d been saddled with me as a burden.

I bit my lip to stop the trembling. Once on my feet, I went to the new dresser across from the bed and opened it. My clothes were tucked to the side, filling a single drawer, making my belongings seem even more meager than they already had.

With a pair of shorts and a T-shirt in hand, I arranged them across the top of the dresser and shuffled to the bathroom.

Flipping on the light switch showed my bathroom hadn’t been spared.

A new, fancy shower curtain matched the theme of the rest of the apartment.

I had no doubt he’d paid someone to do this since he’d been at work.

This looked like it had taken multiple people.

I turned on the shower, shucked my clothes, then slipped on my shower sandals that were fortunately still under the sink.

The water falling from the newly installed shower head pelted my skin, and I scrubbed my body with my exfoliating washcloth, making sure to scrub every inch until it was pink and sensitive.

I set the soap and cloth back in their place, turned the shower off, and dried myself.

I wrapped the towel around my hair and stepped onto the bathmat.

Leaving my sandals behind, I slipped my feet into the slippers I’d left at the edge of the bathmat.

My calves burned with every step, the pain more enhanced now that I’d bathed. Once dressed, I slipped into bed, wrung my hair with the towel, and tossed it to the corner of the room. I’d fallen asleep with damp hair in the past, and I was too drained to wait for it to dry.

Yet, I lay in bed, battling to fall asleep. Until I had silence, I didn’t realize how used to I’d gotten to the noise of a prison. The comforter was so soft against my skin . . .

I was so lucky to have found my mate so soon. As bad as I felt that he was saddled with me, I couldn’t help but hold onto the gift. Lucian was everything I could have ever wanted. Kind, patient, gentle, and yeah, a little overbearing.

I wasn’t used to being taken care of, and it felt odd. I rolled onto my side, curling my legs up. The front door knob wiggled like a key was being shoved into it. My heart leaped, and I tensed, readying for an attack. I squeezed my hands into a fist, bunching up the blanket.

I wasn’t in prison. It could only be Lucian, he’d said he’d see me again today.

The rustle of clothes being taken off prodded me to turn to my other side.

Half of Lucian’s face was illuminated by the moonlight beaming through the window above my bed and caught his iris, reflecting.

He unbuttoned the front of his shirt, exposing his chest inch by inch until he was bare.

Each bit showed more of his torso, well-defined and smooth.

My eyes dropped to the strip of hair under his belly button leading into his slacks.

I curled my fingers into my palm. To top off his attributes, he was hot.

“How did you do all of this?”

The corner of his lips twitched. He undid his belt and set it on the dresser before carefully folding the button-down over the belt.

In two strides, he was sliding into the bed, his arm settling around my back. My stomach pulsed with excitement, and I breathed in his vanilla scent.

“Expeditiously,” he murmured.

“Can you see my glare? Because I’m glaring,” I muttered, nuzzling into his warm chest. “I know I don’t have a lot, but you didn’t have to do this,” I struggled to speak with the shame eating me up.

My face burned, and I ducked my head. I didn’t deserve him.

It felt like I had taken advantage. Lucian sat up and reached for the lamp on the nightstand, and he flipped it on.

“You don’t like it? I’ll get everything replaced immediately.” He moved like he was about to stand, and I lunged and grabbed his arm, my eyes wide.

“It’s not that! It’s beautiful.”

He frowned, turning toward me, one leg bent, the other off the bed. His hand settled on my cheek.

“Then what’s the problem?” he murmured, leaning down. His vanilla scent enveloped me, and I swayed forward, inhaling. “Josephine?” he said, humor in his tone.

I straightened, my face hot. I didn’t want to say why he shouldn’t do all these things for me; it was fucking embarrassing. When he found out the truth, would he cast me aside? I licked my lips.

“I just . . . don’t need all this.” I waved my hand around. “I just need you.”

His eyes scanned my face, and in a sudden motion, he pulled me against him, hugging me so tight he squeezed the oxygen out of my lungs.

“I don’t deserve you, Princess.” His gruff words were muffled in my hair.

I scoffed.

“I think you have the roles reversed.” It was literally why I was so on edge. He didn’t know the truth, so he couldn’t understand how wrong he was.

His chest rumbled with a hum.

“Is that what this is about?” He pulled back and gripped the outside of my arms, frowning down at me. “You’re doing me a favor by letting me get you things. You refused to move in with me. I won’t have my mate living in squalor.”

I lowered my head. Squalor.

“You know, I worked hard—” I cut off before I spilled about my past.

“Josephine,” he murmured. His hands settled on my face and angled it to look at him. “Everything I am is yours,” he said fiercely. I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Princess, look at me.” He squeezed my face between his palms. I met his warm eyes.

He was just saying that because he didn’t know. “Please. Nothing would make me happier than to spoil you.” The pad of his thumb rubbed my cheek. His sincerity blared at me. Playing hard to get about it seemed counterproductive, so I’d tuck the shame away and work hard to be worthy of him.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Good mate,” he murmured and kissed me. I tilted my head, meeting his tongue with the same fervor. I hummed and slid my palm up his side, feeling his rib cage. So smoothly, he lifted, not parting our lips as he guided me onto my back.

His taste was intoxicating. His leg slipped between my thighs, applying pressure against my sex. I gasped, and my hips moved as if they had a mind of their own.

He hummed against my lips and pulled away, rising onto his knees.

I panted, watching him from under my eyelashes.

Lucian worked his fingers into the tip of my shorts and slid them down my legs, unhooking them from my feet and tossing them.

The coolness between my legs made it obvious how wet I was for him.

The beam of moonlight fell across his face.

He was so fucking fine . I pressed my lips into a thin line. And so mine .

Once the shorts were discarded, he lowered onto his hands until he hovered over my face. One of his palms slid under my shirt, and he slowly dragged it up. The graze of his skin raised goose bumps in its wake.

Between my legs had become hypersensitive, and I didn’t want him to stop touching me. He kissed me once and kept his eyes on mine as he lowered his mouth to my exposed breasts. Lucian took the hard bud of my nipple between his lips.

Gasping, I arched off the bed, shoving toward the warmth of his mouth. My stomach was alive with nerves, and I couldn’t stop panting.

Lucian flicked his tongue around the areola and sucked the tip into his mouth. When he lifted, my breast noisily popped out of his mouth, and he continued crawling up my body. I could only watch my mate in a trance.

His thigh pressed higher against my core, wrenching a gasp from my throat, and he hovered over my face.

The familiar build of tension tautened my body, and I touched his shoulders, smoothing my hands over the broadness and winding my arms around the back of his neck like he’d disappear if I stopped.

He tucked his face against my neck. I shivered, my fingers digging into his back.

“My precious mate,” he marveled, lips grazing against my throat. Just his words hiked my hips up. I wanted more, but his slacks were in the way.

After sliding my hand over his chest and scooting down, I undid the hook of his slacks and dipped into his pants to grab his thick shaft.

It throbbed in my hand.

He groaned, his hips thrusting and shoving his length into my palm.

The sensitivity between my legs became excruciating. I wanted to be claimed by my mate—my fate.