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CHAPTER 12

A rmand

We get back to the chateau a day after we left, and I feel like I am a different man than I was when we drove away. Responsibility has always weighed heavily on me. It weighs even more heavily now.

“Go to the bedroom,” I tell Beatrix as we pull to a halt outside the chateau. I have chosen the rear entrance, because showing up covered in blood is not going to be a good look for the pack. “I will come and deal with you later.”

“I’m not invited to the funeral?” She pouts at me, then dares to laugh, her eyes sparkling with some deeply feral amusement.

“This is not funny, Beatrix. This is going to cost the pack in numerous ways. What if there were cameras there? What if we just revealed the existence of modern wolf shifters to people?”

“They wouldn’t believe it even if we did it right in front of them. Nobody believes anything they see anymore,” she says, getting out of the car and standing languidly on the back steps, her legs long under my shirt, her expression completely without remorse. “Nothing matters. You worry too much. I did what I was supposed to do, what any proper wolf would have done.”

I move faster than I realized I was capable of, pinning her against the wall with my body, one leg between her thighs as I snarl down at her, my teeth snapping a fraction of an inch away from her nose.

“Oh? And what would a proper alpha do to his murderous little mate? What brutal punishment would she endure?”

I smell her arousal immediately. This was the wrong approach if I wanted to get actual contrition out of her. She likes it when I am rough; she responds to all things vigorous and animal.

“You didn’t tell me not to kill them,” she points out. “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong. You have to be more specific with your expectations if you expect me to follow them. I’m not a mind reader.”

She’s right. Goddammit, she’s right. Yes, most people can be expected at baseline to not kill people the moment they seem slightly threatening, but the more I look at this from her perspective, the more I realize she didn’t know any better. Our freedom was under threat, and I was tense in that interaction. She would have picked up on my fear, the fear of losing her to the system because she has no official paperwork. She felt it, and she dealt with it.

I should have been the one to make her feel safe. I should be the one who makes her submit, not because I am overpowering her, but because she trusts me to handle things.

I kiss her deeply, and yes, roughly. But I am no longer doing it from anger or fear, I’m doing it because I am deeply in love with this feral creature who behaves so much like the perfect animal she is.

“I am going to put these two men to rest, and then you and I are going to have a good, long…”

“Mmm, yes,” she interrupts with a sexy little grin.

“Discussion about my expectations,” I finish the sentence.

“Oh, no!” She pouts.

“Go to the bedroom. Get cleaned up.”

“You need to get cleaned up too. You look like you’ve been in a human abattoir.” She grins and kisses me on the nose, then sticks out her tongue just a little and licks some of the dried blood from my neck.

“Delicious,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

Christ. What have I claimed as my mate?

* * *

Beatrix

Armand grabs me, tosses me over his shoulder, and carries me upstairs. He might be mad at me, but he is also really fucking turned on. His desire for me, as bad as I am, is unabated.

He smells like blood and fear. Not his fear, the fear of the men who died because they thought I was going to be easy prey. He thinks they were trying to help me. I don’t believe for a second that they had any good intention toward me. They looked at me the way I look at a good pie. Their last emotion has drenched him. He could almost pass for a pathetic human predator, except for the strength that emanates from him with every breath he takes.

I am not afraid of him. There will be consequences, but those consequences will not hurt me. I bet I’ll like them. The chemistry between us never fades, even when he’s furious with me. Even when he wonders what he’s gotten himself into with me. He doesn’t falter. He doesn’t waver. He doesn’t threaten to get rid of me.

They used to always threaten to kick me out of the orphanage, but he hasn’t said that once. Not even when I almost got him shot. This man loves me in a way that is completely new to me.

So he could tell me he was angry at me for years at a time, and I would not believe that anger was his primary feeling when he looked at me like this. There is passion and fire in him that makes my blood charge with desire.

“Unbelievable,” he says, pulling the bloodstained shirt from his skin over his head and dropping it on the floor.

He finishes stripping, yanks his shirt off me, and steps into the shower, dragging me with him.

“You make messes, you should help clean them up,” he says, handing me soap and a cloth.

I blush a little, because suddenly this feels very vulnerable in ways I’m not used to, but I set to my task because touching him is not a hardship. Exploring his body with the soapy cloth, helping the muck of death slide down the drain feels very intimate to me.

“Never again,” he says, sliding his hand under my chin. “No more killing.”

“I can’t promise that. Someone might really need to die.”

He smacks my ass, hard, and it hurts all the more for being wet, but I maintain my refusal to promise.

“Why won’t you just submit, Trixie?” His voice is thick with lust and frustration.

“Because I won’t lie to you. I’m not a liar.”

“But you are a killer.”

“We are both killers,” I remind him.

He looks down at me, silver eyes lidded heavily, his cock hard against my belly. Our nakedness is natural, and in this moment, very alluring. I want him inside me. I want his forgiveness, but more than that, I want him to admit that what I did was the right thing.

“I killed them for us. They were going to hurt us, one way or another. We both felt it.”

He draws in a hitching breath. “I’m trying to be your alpha. I’m trying to teach you how to behave.”

“I know how to behave. I’ve been told how to behave my whole life.” I press against him, feel his cock harden against me even more. “I know what I am and I know what you are.”

“You’re going to be the ruin of me,” he groans as I wrap my hand around his shaft boldly. “I have spent a lifetime becoming responsible and now you are here and…”

“What?” I pump my hand up and down the length of his cock slowly.

“And you already know how to handle me so well,” he groans, resting his head back against the shower, letting me take the lead. I’m sure this isn’t what he has planned.

I know he’s going to want to spank me, lecture me, take control of me. He’s going to need to reassert dominance, but for now he’s letting me have my way with him.

I slide down to my knees, wondering if this will make him forgive me any faster. The sound he makes when he feels my mouth wrap around the head of his cock is absolutely transcendent. A soft, low growl that continues to reverberate through him and through me as I lower my head down, slowly taking him as deep as I can.

I feel his hand slide around the back of my head, he pushes deep over my tongue, almost all the way to the back of my throat. His hips pump forward and back again, making full use of my mouth.

I let him use me. I let him take me.

I suck him, roll my tongue under the head of his cock slowly, exploring him. He likes that. I can tell by the way his dick pumps and throbs inside my mouth.

“You’re such a fucking…” He can’t finish the sentence because it trails off into a deep moan.

He comes in my mouth and I swallow him eagerly and deeply. I want every drop of him. I want his living taste, not the taste of dead men in my mouth.

He watches as I lap him up, his eyes narrowing as his lids descend.

“God, Beatrix. You are nothing but trouble. Really. Fuck, you’re perfect.” He pulls me up and kisses me deeply as the last flecks of blood are driven from his skin.

“I should really be whipping your ass for what you did tonight,” he says. “I should be making sure you shed tears and promise me nothing but the best behavior. But punishing you feels like a sin in itself.”

He lifts my leg and slides inside me, his cock claiming me in passionate, slow strokes. I am wet for him, ready for his seed. I am here to be his, remain his.

“They were going to split us up; that is a sin deserving of death,” I moan.

“You are such a dangerous, sexy little thing,” he groans, kissing me possessively. “Every word that comes out of your mouth begs for trouble, but I cannot get enough of you.”

There’s no punishment. He doesn’t want to hurt me. He doesn’t want to discipline the spirit and strength out of me. He wants to love me, deeply, thoroughly, and until my toes curl and I scream his name.

And that is exactly what he does.