Page 30 of The Wolf's Mate

Rip and I spend most of our days together, except for when he has patrol, or something else important comes up. Then Tallie and Thorne are with me. But every night, I go to sleep next to him and wake up next to him—albeit grumpily because mornings suck.

It’s…comforting.

Lycan Forest, although not home, has started to feel familiar. The pain of leaving home is still there, but it’s no longer sharp and all-consuming. I’ll never stop missing my sister and mother, but the pain, in time, should become more manageable. I wonder what their life is like now? If Ender kept his part of the bargain, which I have to believe he did, are they upgrading the house? Buying a new one? Maybe going on a vacation?

Most of my time now is spent learning about the pack, like the procedures and laws Rip has put into place. I hesitate to learn about the way he leads his people because I’m not sure I’m the leader they deserve. The more I learn about the pack and the operations, the more I appreciate Rip and his ability to lead a pack of this size.

Everyone in the pack contributes, whether it’s running patrols, working at the packhouse, or running one of the businesses in town. My favorite is working with Tallie in the nursery with the pups—children of the pack. They range in age from infants to talkative preteens, and I steal away to the nursery whenever I have some downtime.

Which, surprisingly, isn’t much. Rip has stayed true to his word about making me an equal partner. I have attended one meeting he conducted with his pack council. Most of the information involved things I had little knowledge about, like territory borders and correspondence with other kingdoms. When the topic changed to Nephilim and Michael, the room grew tense.

The forest and borders have been quiet. I thought this was good news, but Rip looked stressed. His body grew rigid, and he drummed his fingers against the hard wood of the table. Each tap filled the room with apprehension.

We left that meeting with a heavy feeling of uneasiness.

I try not to dwell on that feeling for too long. When I wake up the next day, I’m surprised to find Rip still snoring softly next to me. He had gone on patrol last night to amp up security since Michael was able to sneak in so easily. With the vast number of sick wolves, we have very few wolves to spare, so Rip has been working overtime. I had fallen asleep alone, which I told myself was fine. I pretended like I didn’t miss him.

I felt him come to bed last night, but I was too tired and groggy to greet him properly. His warm body kept the chill away, and for the last few nights, I have woken up with my head on his chest and his arm curled around my waist. Our bodies seem to gravitate toward one another in the middle of the night. Today is no different. So much for the pillow wall I tried to construct.

I don’t want to wake him, so I carefully shimmy out of his grasp. He stirs the moment my feet hit the floor, and I pause, hoping if I stay silent and still, he won’t wake up. The steady rise and fall of his chest give me the confidence to move again. I go to the bathroom to take care of my needs. Warm, steamy water awaits in a basin for me, and I use it to wash my face and brush my teeth.

When I’m positive I no longer have morning breath, I tiptoe back out of the bathroom in search of clothes. I accidentally trip over Grass in the process. He’s taken over quite the pillow fort at the end of the bed.

“Shit, sorry, buddy,” I whisper.

Grass just huffs and goes back to bed.

Tallie supplied me with a stash of outfits, all of which are still lying in a neat pile on the floor. I’m not the tidiest of people, and if Rip notices, he doesn’t seem to care.

I search the pile until I find wool leggings in a light brown color and a matching hoodie. This damn cold weather is going to take a long time to get used to. Tallie even said they are expecting snow.

I turn my head once, making sure Rip is still asleep before I strip down where I stand. The cold air hits my naked body, and I shiver. My nipples pebble to painful points. I bend down, searching for panties, and find a cute cotton pair. I pull those on, quickly followed by my leggings. They are a little loose, but not to the point they threaten to fall down when I walk. I don’t bother with a bra; instead, I pull the large hoodie over my head and wrap myself in its warm embrace.

Finally feeling I won’t freeze to death, I turn around and stop dead in my tracks.

Rip sits at the edge of the bed, his gaze burning into mine. I hadn’t even heard him move. Something in his expression tells me I just gave this man a free show. Maybe it’s the way his dark eyes scan my body, feeling as if they are undressing me all over again. Or the slight bulge pressing against his sleep pants.

A cock has never made my mouth water—I would never give a man that much power. Their inflated egos need no more praise. But Rip’s? Fuck, I can’t stop wondering what it would feel like with my lips wrapped around his length.

“How long have you been awake?” I try to make my voice sound casual, but there’s a slight breathiness to my tone.

“Long enough,” he says in that low, gruff morning voice that makes me nearly have to change my panties.

“How much did you see?”

“Not nearly enough, Dove.” His lips twitch up to a predatory smirk. His stare pins me in place, caught between fleeing and saying fuck it. One taste of him couldn’t hurt…could it? He is my mate, after all, so it seems only natural.

“Your scent is fucking intoxicating when you’re turned on,” he growls, licking his lips as if he can taste me. Part of me feels embarrassed about him smelling my arousal—I didn’t even know shifters could do that. Still, the other part of me relishes the attention, needing more of it.

“And how do you know I’m turned on?” We’re playing with fire. One stray ember will set us ablaze, but I don’t think I care.

“Because.” Rip is up, crossing the room in three powerful strides. He presses against me and forces me to move until my back hits the wall. He leans so close, ducking his head. His nose brushes against my cheek, and I feel something wet on my neck where his bite is. Was that his tongue?

My body acts of its own accord, arching into him. The impressive erection presses into my hip, pinning me in place.

“Because,” he starts again, hot breath against my neck, “your scent consumes me. It blooms around you, begging me to touch you. Is that what you want, Dove? To be touched?”

My panties are soaked. His nostrils flare, and I know he’s picking up my arousal again. “Yes.” The answer comes out as a surprise, but once out, I don’t dare take it back.

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