“Will he be alright?” Mikal directed the question to me, not a trace of concern flavoring his overpoweringly aroused scent. Clearly he didn’t care and was just asking because he knew he should.
“Yes, he should heal well. No more than a day. I’ll make sure to integrate him into our defense plan for the trip to the Clan Gathering.” I stared him in the face, daring him to challenge my lack of submission.
He didn’t take the bait; if anything, it seemed to turn him on even more, the cloying, overripe scent of his desire nearly making me gag. “See that you do. I understand you are in the habit of reporting to the alpha first thing every morning?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Very good. I’ll expect to see you tomorrow. Alone.” His grin was feral, and I fought down the desire to shudder; I would not show weakness in front of this beast.
“Yes, Alpha.” I gave Warren a light tug, and we sidestepped around Mikal, who turned to watch us leave with a wolfish smile.
After that exchange, I was definitely taking a bath before dusk. I’ve never felt filthier.
Chapter 4
Kaliya
After I helped Warren move from the alpha house and settle his family in a new place, I had just enough time to take a bath. I needed to wash the filth of the day from my hair and skin before the guards pulled the rope ladders back into the trees. I returned to my house, empty as usual.
I should have my own place by now, but as I was yet unmated, I still lived in my childhood home with my mother. The pack didn’t provide homes to unmated wolves—just another way to force us to mate, I suppose.
My father was killed by a wraith two years ago during a nest raid, and since then my mother had been conspicuously absent. I suspected she had taken a lover among the many widowers in our pack; now that she had mated and born children, the pack didn’t concern itself with her love life.
Must be nice.
I began preparing dinner, and I didn’t have to wait long until the expected knock came. Emory let himself in, knowing he didn’t need to wait for my response. After a quick greeting he joined me in the kitchen, silently chopping the vegetables I’d left out and tossing them in the pan once the meat was cooked. His warm, chocolate-cinnamon scent drifted with him and enveloped me with a sense of comfort.
Emory started coming over most nights to keep me company when he found out my mother left me alone. It worked out for him too, since his home life was rather hostile, given his age and lack of a mate. His parents didn’t want him around and made no attempt to hide that fact.
Over dinner we chatted about the results of the Alpha Challenge, and what it would mean for the pack now our alpha was a major asshole. I told him about the exchange we had following the challenge, and concern colored his sweet scent. “You don’t think he’ll mate challenge you? He hates you.” Emory’s cinnamon eyes, always so expressive, were worried. “I couldn’t stand for you to be mated to that prick.”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I hope not. I’m not sure he’d succeed, and then what? I nearly killed him when we were kids; if I killed him this time, or even if he’s unable to force my wolf to submit, what happens? I’m female and about to age out, I can’t become the alpha. An alpha who’s been defeated by anyone, even in a mate challenge, is no longer Alpha. So what happens when we don’t even have a beta to take over?”
Emory thought it over, his quick mind already leaps and bounds ahead of mine. He could follow different scenarios to their conclusion in his mind and determine the most logical course in an instant. He made for a brilliant battle strategist, but he wasn’t keen on fighting. The pack mostly used his sharp mind for improving weapons and helping us strategize our attacks on the wraith nests when we found them. He tilted his head, considering. “You’d either be expelled from the pack, or they’d have to make you Alpha.” He stated it without emotion; it was a fact, nothing to be upset about. That was Emory.
“Well, that’s comforting,” I joked humorlessly. “Is it a fifty-fifty shot, or more sixty-forty?” When I saw his eyes glaze over as he calculated, I added quickly, “I’m teasing, I don’t really want to know odds.”
“Are you sure? I could tell you-”
“Yes, I’m sure. Come on,” I nudged him with my shoulder. “Let’s clean up.”
After the kitchen was clean we sat on the couch, my butt wedged comfortably between his lean legs as his long, deft fingers ran through my hair. When we were much younger he loved to play with it, and his practice plaits had turned into my signature style. He was adept at weaving my long hair into braids and took a fair amount of pride in his handiwork. He’d tried various styles but preferred to weave the sides of my head with small, tight braids that clung to my scalp past my ears before separating and ending in tightly woven tails. He left the top and back of my head loose; it flowed freely and sometimes for battle I’d pin the front section back, but otherwise I liked to leave it the way he intended. Of course, I didn’t reveal who my stylist was; female grooming wasn’t considered masculine among the males of the pack. But I loved how his simple attention made me feel loved and comforted in a way no one else did.
When his fingers began to trace delicately along the flesh of my exposed neck, goosebumps rose on my skin and I released a shuddering sigh. It wasn’t long before his warm lips followed suit, gently pressing to the places he’d just touched and raising my heart rate as he distracted me from all concerns about the new alpha. I let him keep it up for a few minutes, kissing and dragging his soft lips along my neck and shoulder before I’d had enough teasing. Standing, I pulled his hand and he followed to his feet, trailing me up the stairs to my bedroom with that adorable smile that shot straight to my heart.
After ensuring the rest of the house lights were off, I closed the door behind me and shoved him playfully down on the bed. Emory wasted no time in getting comfortable, pulling off his shirt before laying back on his elbows. He was irresistible, the chocolate and cinnamon scent of him mingling with a richer scent of dark cacao; evidence of his arousal. I climbed across the bed, straddling him before dropping my face to claim his mouth with mine. My wolf hummed with approval; she shouldn’t approve, given that a female should find a dominant male arousing and not the other way around.
And yet, here we were.
Perhaps it was the relationship I had with Emory: our closeness, the way we understood each other, that she approved of. Maybe she was just horny and would take what she could get.
The Ancients know she’s not the only one who’s horny.
Either way, this was more about Emory and me than our wolves. My fingers tangled in his hair as we kissed, then traced the sharp edge of his jaw and further, down his neck and along his collarbone. Emory lightly stroked the curve of my breasts, bare beneath my soft cotton shirt, before running his hands down the sides of my waist to grip my hips, pressing against me with his own.
Our kisses grew deeper and more frantic, my breath coming in gasps as the scent of him filled my senses and spurred my desire. We needed to stop soon, before we got too far. Emory’s long fingers slid around my hips and gripped my backside, drawing a moan from deep within my chest. I pinched his lower lip between my teeth, nipping the tender flesh before swooping in with my tongue again. I ran my fingertips down his lean torso, causing shudders to course through his body, then swept my hands behind me to grasp his wrists and pull. After lacing my fingers through his, palm to palm, I pushed them up above his head, pressing his hands into the cushion of the bed while he bucked beneath me.