Page 72

Wolfe

C onsciousness came slower to Wolfe than he was used to. He was first aware of the warm, happy, sated scent of his mate, the wisteria wrapping around him like some sort of sweet fog. Then came the soft rustling sounds of the sheets. And then the press of a hot mouth against his upper thigh.

How marvelous. He would have thought his mate would need a bit more time for recovery. Wolfe hadn’t exactly taken it easy on him, especially for a first time bottoming. It had tested every bit of his resolve to take his time preparing Eric, to wait so carefully until his mate was desperate for it.

He’d thought perhaps he’d finally be sated after claiming him, but it had only stoked the flames of Wolfe’s desire. He’d had Eric twice more before wiping down the exhausted, beautiful man and letting him sleep the few hours they required.

But apparently Eric was already up for more. Wolfe waited, eyes closed, for Eric to inch along from his thigh to his hardening cock. His beast shifted lazily, contented and anticipatory both.

He got a nip of blunt teeth instead.

Wolfe opened his eyes and peered down to see Eric looking beyond delectable between his thighs, his blond hair tousled, his stubbled cheeks pink, and a delightfully mischievous tilt to his mouth.

Wolfe found himself smiling easily—how could he not, with such a perfect vision in front of him? “What are you up to down there, pet?”

Eric licked a stripe up the side of Wolfe’s thigh. “You said there were lots of places we could bite.”

“Mm, I did, didn’t I?”

Eric nipped him again, on the tender skin where Wolfe’s thigh met his pelvis, his teeth still blunt. “Here?”

“Are you hungry, pet? You know my blood can’t nourish you.”

Eric shook his head, his stubble tickling Wolfe’s skin. “Not hungry.” He paused. “Well, a little. I wouldn’t mind that blood bag later. I just want to…do it again, I guess. Is that okay?”

What a beautifully greedy creature.

Wolfe leaned his head back, threading his fingers through Eric’s hair—still too short, but it would grow. “Be my guest, darling.”

There was a brief, sharp sting and then that lovely wash of sensation from the night before—Eric’s pleasure at Wolfe’s taste, Wolfe’s own pleasure at the feel of the bite.

Wolfe may not have been getting his cock sucked, but this was its own form of perfection.

Eric would drink, the greedy thing. Then Wolfe would direct that cheeky mouth to his cock, feed his mate essence of a different sort.

And then…well, he’d simply decide from there.

So many delicious choices. Suck Eric off as well?

Use his hand and capture those lips again?

Have Eric bring himself to completion, perhaps in front of the mirror, so he could see how gorgeous he became in his lustful state?

Or possibly edge him for hours, see what desperate sounds he could tear out of him.

The harsh sound of a phone ringing broke through Wolfe’s delightful daydreams.

Eric lifted his head from Wolfe’s lap, his lips bloody. A vision like no other. “That’s mine.”

“Ignore it.”

But Eric was already leaning over the bed to peer at the damned thing, most likely conditioned from years of being the doctor on call.

Wolfe could feel Eric’s dismay through the bond before he saw it on his face. “My mom.”

“Ignore it,” Wolfe said again.

Eric’s brow was furrowed, his reddened lips twisted in a frown. “But she’s been calling. For days now. I can’t just—”

“You can.” Wolfe picked up the offending device and tossed it on the floor, where it slid beneath the dresser.

Now Eric’s frown was directed at him. “Hey!”

“You’re an adult, Eric. You don’t have to answer.”

Eric sat up with a huff. “And you don’t get to dictate who I talk to. Or am I a prisoner after all?”

It was a laughable accusation. The good doctor had been walking all over Wolfe since the moment he’d gotten there.

Wolfe tried to rein in his annoyance and stick to the facts.

“I don’t like what I sense through the bond when she calls.

” More to himself than Eric, he muttered, “She’ll have to be dealt with. ”

His beast agreed with every ounce of its unnatural being. Kill what hurts our mate.

Eric eyed him with suspicion. “What does that mean?”

As their interlude had been so painfully interrupted, Wolfe rose from the bed, striding to the closet to grab his favored silk robe.

“Wolfe,” Eric prompted.

Wolfe grabbed a second robe for his mate and tossed in on the bed.

“ Wolfe. ”

Perhaps he’d run them both a bath.

Eric slid to the edge of the bed, trying to catch Wolfe’s eye. “Hey. Psychopath. You can’t kill my mom.”

Wolfe ran a hand through his unacceptably disheveled hair. “Are you so attached, then?”

He didn’t understand it, this loyalty to someone who clearly made Eric so miserable.

This woman who had the irritating power of ruining his mate’s good mood with one measly phone call.

Wolfe may have been grateful she’d created such a needy void in Eric, but she’d already played her role.

He had no more use for Eric’s dissatisfaction.

He wanted his mate content, joyful, lustful.

Anything but this strange mix of shameful and distressed.

Eric was gawking up at Wolfe like he’d come from another planet. Wolfe tried again. “I won’t have you upset, darling.”

“Killing my mother would upset me.” Eric spoke slowly, as if to drive the point home. Like Wolfe was some kind of simpleton.

“I’ll think of something.” At Eric’s suspicious look, Wolfe sniffed. “Something else , I suppose.”

Wolfe moved to the vanity, combing his hair back into place.

He’d simply have to work within the bounds of Eric’s ridiculous sentimentality.

He didn’t want to know what the consequences of offing one of Eric’s family members would be, especially after being asked so deliberately not to. Separate bedrooms? Separate houses ?

Eric seemed to take him at his word and left it at that. Wolfe watched him through the mirror as he sat up and donned the robe Wolfe had left for him, leaving it untied, much to Wolfe’s delight.

“What about your family?” Eric asked, after a minute.

“They’re long dead, darling.”

A pregnant pause.

Wolfe turned from the vanity with an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t kill them.”

Eric nodded, his belief in Wolfe’s words clear on his face. “But you didn’t love them.”

“I didn’t. And as far as I know, the feeling was mutual.

” Wolfe went to work picking their discarded clothing up from the floor, setting each item in the hamper.

It wouldn’t do to start acting slovenly now.

“They knew something was wrong with me very early on; they set up strict punishments from the beginning. Trying to prevent public embarrassment, I suppose. I quickly learned the importance of minding consequences, so I suppose I should be grateful for that lesson. And then they lost our fortune after the war, lost what was rightfully mine, what I had worked so hard to be respectable enough to earn, and I had little use for them after that.”

“And then you turned, and it all went wrong,” Eric said softly.

Was that what Eric thought? Wolfe suppressed a laugh. “I asked to be turned, pet.”

“What?”

Wolfe strode back to the bed, pleased when Eric leaned against him, his head nuzzling into Wolfe’s stomach, his arms draped casually over Wolfe’s hips.

“I found a fated pair. I saw what they had: immortality, eternal youth, the power to do what they pleased when they pleased. And, I suppose, each other. I wanted it.”

“And the drinking blood thing didn’t dissuade you at all?” Eric mumbled the question into Wolfe’s robe.

“It did not.”

Eric huffed, his warm breath tickling what skin it could reach. “You’re really one of a kind, did you know that?”

“Of course.” Wolfe smoothed a hand over his mate’s hair.

“Jesus.” Eric started laughing, a deep, husky, delighted sound. He’d laughed in Wolfe’s presence before, of course—in disbelief, in surprise, in release—but this was different. Relaxed and joyful and so lovely it hurt.

All that would have been ruined, Wolfe was sure of it, if the mother had been allowed to speak with him.

Eric’s chuckles tapered off, but he didn’t release Wolfe from his grasp. “When you turned, did you see your parents again?”

So inquisitive today. No matter. Wolfe didn’t mind answering his questions, if it kept him so content. “I did not. I changed my surname, and I fled.”

Eric tilted his head to peer up at him. “Am I going to have to fake my death or something? When I don’t age.”

“It depends on how hard people will look for you. How much they care. Otherwise, you could simply disappear.”

Eric pursed his lips as he thought. “She’d try to find me, I think, out of a need for control more than anything else.”

“Then we’ll kill human Eric.”

“That’ll be kind of cool, right?” Eric’s smile was surprisingly loose and easy for the topic at hand. “Starting fresh, I mean. Although, I guess I couldn’t be a doctor anymore.”

Eric could be anything the fuck he wanted. Wolfe would make sure of it.

“There are ways, darling. Forged documents. Compulsion. You can be what you wish.”

But Eric wasn’t listening, too lost in his own thoughts. “I could move more to research, maybe.”

He sounded hopeful—content, even. Wolfe stroked his hair while Eric plotted, and their bond pulsed, soft and sweet once again.

Wolfe hadn’t lied when he’d told Eric he hadn’t been unhappy before. But he supposed the truth was he hadn’t been happy either. He hadn’t known the difference.

He knew the difference now.

“So am I, like, your prized possession? Is that how you think of me?”

Wolfe mulled the question over as he soaped Eric’s broad shoulders. The large ledge of the tub allowed Wolfe to sit out of the water with his back to the wall, his calves bracketing his mate as he bathed him. The edge of his robe was damp with bathwater, but it was hard to mind.