Page 64 of Hawke

“Sure, so she can freak the fuck out when she realizes I have two different personalities? That sounds so much better.”

“A schizophrenic wolf, I like it!”he yipped.

I went too far, once again. This time, I was the only one to blame. But her arousal had permeated the air so fiercely and quickly I couldn’t help myself. Not only that, but her glorious tits had fallen free. Alright well, I ripped the blasted contraption off her chest to feel her on my skin.

And damn, it felt good, better than anything I could have imagined having my body pinned to hers. I continued to relax, no longer aching with bond sickness. We couldn’t be separated any longer. We couldn’t leave each other’s side now. If I had any reservations about staying away from her, I’d thrown them out the window.

If we were separated, we would both die.

Not that I ever wanted to be separated from her again, but fear controlled me.

I had to decide if marking her as mine was worth it. If I bit her, she would change. My venom would seep into her body and slowly change her, just like Journey. Was Journey even still alive? Did I even want to find out?

I brushed my mate’s hair, leaning her back into the bed. Her pants were ruined, her body was a jumbled mess of red handprints, and she had a very large hickey on her shoulder with a pinprick of a bite.

“Shit.”

“Is that your new favorite word? Usually it’s fuck.”

I hissed in vexation. Why the hell had this wolf been paired with me? I would never know. We were complete opposites in every way.

“I ask myself the same thing,”he mumbled. “I try to keep you in line, and you completely ignore me. It’s frustrating.”

I ran my hands up and down her bare skin. She was littered with red marks and bruises on her delicate skin from my tight hold. A sickening feeling formed in my gut. What if she wasn’t strong enough to take my venom? To change?

Damn it, humans were so fragile. How the hell did Grim do it with Journey without killing her?

“Ew, that is a nasty picture I can never erase.”

After rerouting the food to a new address, I dressed my mate, opting to put my shirt over her body to keep my scent surrounding her. I had never released my scent, but I found it easy to do. My wolf was more in control of that part of my body.

When my scent sunk into her skin and hair, I realized I was taking one more step to make her mine. No one, not even my brothers at the Iron Fang, would approach her until a mark could be placed on her shoulder. All shifters around the area would know that she was partially claimed, and a fight to the death would ensue if anyone tried to take her from me.

Not that my brothers would even dare think about touching what was mine. I made it perfectly clear over the years that Delilah was mine, and no one was to approach her. She was friends with everyone, and she made it damned difficult with her batting those lashes at all my brothers.

But scenting was part of the courting phase. It could last a few hours to a few days, depending on the pack, lineage, or royal line. For a warrior or guard, it was normally instantaneous to mark and claim their mate where they stood. It was in our blood; we were more ruthless and possessive. And with my terrible memories already trying to bubble over from my past, marking Delilah sooner rather than later seemed a more favorable option.

Or maybe I should wait, see what would happen?

I shook my head. Delilah wasn’ther.Delilah was so much more.

And dare I say, I had felt more for Delilah than I ever had for the mate that rejected me.

I felt the bond growing stronger. My wolf’s teeth were itching to pierce her skin to permanently mark her. Leaving bruises, although part of me was ashamed for marring her skin, gave me such delight to see our handy work, our hands and mouth making her ours.

But fear was holding me back.

She might not survive the shift.

The worn room she had chosen was worse than the one she originally rented. It was long overdue for new floors, furniture, and a television. I didn’t even know they still had box televisions with rabbit ears, but this one certainly did.

My wolf and I made the conscious decision that we didn’t need our mate here any longer. I had to prepare us a nest, a place where she would feel safe until I figured out what our plan of action was once we were both rested from our near brushes with death.

Traveling home seemed like the better option, but letting Delilah be part of that decision was vital. Ultimately, it would be her decision, but her passing out after revealing part of the truth was worrisome.

Would she accept what I was? What we were together? What we all were at the Iron Fang? The thought alone of her rejecting those who consider her as much part of the club just without the fancy lettered cut was almost absurd.

But one never knew.

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