Page 79

Wolfe

“ Y ou’re obsessed with bathing me.”

Wolfe bit back a smile as he arranged the appropriate towel and robe for Eric on the bathroom’s settee, his own towel wrapped loosely around his hips. He noticed that, for all his teasing, Eric had made no move to wash the conditioner from his own hair. “It’s my right, pet.”

“Right.” Eric huffed a laugh. He might have been aiming for snide, but he was clearly too relaxed to manage it. “Because you own me now or something like that? Is that what you were saying back there?”

Wolfe had said all sorts of savage, mindless things, in the course of their mating. He’d meant every word. He leaned down to press a kiss to Eric’s damp forehead. “You’ve always been mine, darling.”

Eric gave him a half-hearted pout. “But it’s weird that you’re not in here with me.”

Wolfe had showered on his own as the tub filled, tending to Eric from his place on the bathtub’s ledge. “I like to be able to see all of you.”

“Perv,” Eric accused happily, splashing water out of the tub like an overgrown child.

Wolfe moved to return to his place behind his mate and wash out the conditioner, but he stopped as his wrist was taken in a hard grip.

“But it goes both ways, right?” Eric’s gaze was no longer petulant or playful but shockingly serious. “You’re not leaving either. right?”

Wolfe smoothed a hand over Eric’s blond hair. Such baseless insecurities running around that intelligent mind. It would take a long, long while to iron them out. Luckily, they had an eternity. “Why, darling, are you going to leave a wake of terror if I flee?”

Eric pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I’ll terrorize you that’s for sure. You’re not allowed to—to get me used to all this. The pampering and the reassurances and the dicking me down like a champ. And then just leave .”

Wolfe planted a kiss on Eric’s damp shoulder, mouthing at the drops of water, before turning him back around so he could rinse the conditioner. “As if I would ever.”

“Good.”

Petulant thing. Wolfe smiled, delighting in his ministrations, in the loose, contented feeling pulsing off his mate despite his surface worries. So easily reassured. So easily treasured.

Their companionable silence was shattered by the strident ring of Eric’s phone.

Wolfe slapped lightly at his reaching hand. “Leave it.”

Eric slunk back against the tub. “I have to call her back eventually, you know. It’s been over a week. And the texts I’ve sent her have not been received well.”

“Leave it,” Wolfe repeated, running his hands along Eric’s shoulders, soothing him back into the appropriately relaxed position. “I’ll handle it…” And, because he could, because Eric did , he added, “Trust me.”

“You’re going to be relentless with this ‘trust me’ thing, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.”

Wolfe took his time, making his way around the tub to wash every inch of his gorgeous mate. He prolonged the experience by drying Eric with the towel one limb at a time, ignoring his feeble protests of being capable of drying himself.

When his mate was clean, dry, and already well on his way back to an aroused state, Wolfe pressed a final kiss to his neck. “Into the robe with you. Meet me in the sitting room. You’ll find a selection of books for you on my desk.”

Eric shrugged the robe on carelessly, turning to leave.

Wolfe cleared his throat. “Ah. Leave the phone.”

He was rewarded with a supremely suspicious look, but Eric left it nonetheless.

Wolfe waited until he heard Eric’s steps into the sitting room, then secured his own robe before taking hold of the gadget and dialing the offending number.

The voice that answered was cold as ice. “Finally. You better be dead or close to it, Eric Monroe.”

Wolfe closed the bathroom door gently, turning on the phone’s speaker as he made his way to the mirror. He hushed the beast inside him, newly restless with rage at the woman’s words. “Mrs. Monroe, I presume?”

“Who is this?”

“I’m Eric’s fiancé.” Wolfe grabbed his comb from the counter and began attending to his hair. Having a task was always helpful in controlling the temper. “You may call me Wolfgang.”

“My son doesn’t have a fiancé,” Mrs. Monroe said, voice laced with suspicion.

Wolfe grinned at himself in the mirror. “I assure you he does.”

“Put him on the phone.”

“Well, that’s the problem, my dear Mrs. Monroe.” Wolfe clucked his tongue, his reflection the picture of regret. “I’m afraid Eric won’t be speaking to you again, not for some time.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’ll have a trial period of three months. If during that time you can communicate via text civilly—no more than once per week, mind you—I could consider reopening the lines of communication.”

He had no doubt she’d fail, based on the messages he’d seen before.

And he had no problem extending the communication embargo each time she violated the agreement.

With any luck, it could be years before she earned the right to speak to his Eric—that was, until the day came they faked human Eric’s death.

Then this monstrosity of a mother would be out of their lives forever.

But for now, due to whatever sentimental pull Wolfe would never understand, Eric wasn’t ready to let go.

So they would do this, with stipulations in place to protect his mate’s peace.

His mate’s contentment took priority. Always.

“You have no right to—”

“I have every right,” Wolfe cut in. Rude of him, but sometimes one had to meet people at their level. “Your husband’s quite the businessman, isn’t he, Mrs. Monroe?”

He was met with silence.

Wolfe used the tines of the comb to create a neat part in his hair.

“A number of peculiar investments over the years. I can see why you wanted young Eric to earn his living in medicine. A much more stable profession. But wouldn’t it be embarrassing, if all your high-society friends got word of your husband’s errors?

And then there are the regular transfers from our dear Eric’s account. ”

“That’s family— ”

The woman’s panic was palpable. Wolfe reveled in it.

But he kept his voice even. It wouldn’t do to gloat at this stage.

“Eric is my family, Mrs. Monroe. And if you want to continue living in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed, you’ll listen to what I say.

Your trial period starts now. If you try to call again, I’ll burn everything you love to the ground. ”

“I—”

Wolfe hung up. He stared at the phone for a good minute, waiting to see if the offending ringing would begin. But there was only blessed silence.

He found Eric curled up with one of his books on what he was sure to claim was an uncomfortable love seat. He looked absolutely fetching, his blond hair and dark-blue robe setting off the maroon of the furniture’s fabric.

Eric raised his brows as Wolfe entered the room. “You know I could hear that, right?”

“It wasn’t a secret.” Wolfe tugged the book out of Eric’s hands to peruse the title. His lips quirked; Eric had chosen one on the brutality of nineteenth century surgeries. An absolutely bloody choice.

Eric was studying Wolfe’s face in turn. “You know it’s neither reasonable nor healthy to expect me to be happy every second of every day, right?”

Wolfe shrugged, placing the book back into Eric’s hands. “Luckily I am neither reasonable nor particularly mentally sound, so we’ll simply have to do the best we can.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say on the matter.

A certain lack of empathy had always meant he didn’t have to—or care to, in truth—feel others’ emotions as his own.

But now he did, in the most basic sense.

He felt Eric’s distress, his discomfort every time that dreaded phone rang.

He knew how anxious those calls from his mother made him.

And it was horrible, really. If this was how the general population felt, running around with everyone else’s emotions tangled up with their own—well, no wonder the world was as mad as it was. But Wolfe was a practical man; he’d simply do everything he could to keep the unhappiness to a minimum.

Why should his mate ever bear such suffering when he had Wolfe to protect him?

He settled himself in a corner of the love seat, smoothing out his robe and patting his thigh as he did so. “Lay your head on my lap, pet.”

Eric gave him a dubious look. “You know I’ve never actually cock warmed before?”

“Did I ask you to cock warm?” Wolfe smirked at him, ignoring the way his cock did twitch at the thought. “I’m only asking you to lay your head on my lap. To stretch out, read, and relax. Let me run my fingers through your hair.”

“Petting your pet?” Eric quipped. But he did as Wolfe requested and lay his head on Wolfe’s thigh, curling up his knees to fit his broad frame on the love seat.

Wolfe didn’t miss the little sigh of pleasure as he settled in. He was a very tactile creature, his mate. He would require plenty of physical attention outside of the sexual, Wolfe was sure.

And Wolfe would be more than happy to oblige.

“Enjoying the presence of my beloved,” Wolfe corrected, tangling his fingers in Eric’s freshly washed strands.

A catch of breath at the word. “Is that so?”

It was. Wolfe hadn’t known love before; he hadn’t been lying to Johann there.

As a rule, he wasn’t sure how much he understood it, or how comfortable he was throwing the word about.

It seemed to him one so overused by the masses that it had lost all meaning.

Except, perhaps, when it passed Eric’s lips.

But whatever depth of feeling Wolfe was capable of, he knew enough to know it all went to Eric. His passion. His obsession. His care.

Eric rubbed his cheek against Wolfe’s thigh, fingering the fabric. “I can’t believe we’re wearing matching robes right now.”

Wolfe had no idea what the issue was. They made a fetching pair.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Wolfe running his fingers through Eric’s hair while Eric pretended to read his book, barely ever turning a page.

Eventually Eric tilted his head up to catch Wolfe’s eye. “So I’m your fiancé?”

Wolfe tried to contain his smirk. He’d been wondering if his clever mate would bring that up. “We’ll keep it simple. A civil ceremony, I think. You can choose which of the rabble you’d like as your witness, but I’m sure Johann in particular would jump at the chance.”

Eric barked an incredulous laugh. “A civil—is this your idea of a proposal?”

“There’s no need. It’s a fact. You’re mine.

We’re eternally bound as it is. And you love me.

” Wolfe couldn’t help but inject an incredible amount of smug satisfaction into that last bit.

It pleased him so, when Eric said those words.

“And there’s the fact that you, as a doctor in a small town, are a public figure.

I’d like my claim to be public as well.”

“What if I wanted a big wedding?” Eric was wide-eyed, but whether in disbelief or consternation, it was hard to tell.

The bond didn’t lie though.

“You don’t,” Wolfe pointed out.

Eric kept the wide-eyed act up for a long moment before he relaxed back again with a happy sigh. “That’s true.”

Wolfe’s lips quirked. His mate was remarkably complacent after sex and a hot bath. He would have to keep that in mind.

There was more companionable silence, more absent-minded page turning. Wolfe was sure there was something more on his mate’s mind—something beyond their pending nuptials—but he was willing to wait it out.

He didn’t wait much longer before Eric spoke, his voice deliberately light. “I might not want to go back to work.”

There it was. Wolfe wasn’t exactly surprised.

Eric had been remarkably unhesitant about his forced vacation.

He clearly didn’t live for his work, not like others Wolfe had met in his profession.

He’d followed his family’s instructions in forging his career, he’d found security in the identity, but it didn’t give him any joy.

And now Wolfe’s beautiful, clever man perhaps wanted to stretch his wings in other directions. Wolfe would have applauded had he thought it welcome. Instead, he kept his voice as even and carefree as his mate’s. “As I’ve said before, you don’t have to.”

Eric ran his fingers around the edge of his book. “I think I’m done being Dr. Monroe for a while.”

“Then you’ll simply be Eric.”

Eric smiled up at Wolfe, a sharp spike of happiness piercing through the bond. “Your Eric.”

Wolfe smiled back, uncaring how foolish he might look. “All mine.”

“And then I could do research down the line.”

“If you like.”

Eric could never work another day in his extremely extended life, and Wolfe would have no qualms. His mate didn’t have to prove his right to existence. Not to him.

Eric cast him one last sidelong glance. “You really don’t care if I never do anything at all?”

“I want you content,” Wolfe said firmly. “I want you near me. That’s enough.”

“I really do love you.”

“I know.”

“Even though you’re kind of an asshole.”

“Read your book, my darling.”

“Your beloved,” Eric insisted, opening to his most recent page.

“Yes. My beloved.”