Page 79 of Hawke

Delilah hummed as I massaged her shoulders, her head leaned back, and I got the perfect view of her breasts. They were perfect for me. I could barely cup one in my hand, but it was her tits that I loved the most. I loved sucking on them and rubbing them, and I wanted more time with her pussy, too.

My cock twitched next to her ass, but she didn’t notice or didn’t comment. Her eyes were closed, and she leaned her head on the other side of my shoulder. I got a perfect look at her neck, and it was a glorious sight. She was covered with my markings now, but what struck me as surprising was that she bared her neck.

Baring a neck was such a submissive, vulnerable position. It meant they trusted, adored, and gave their life to the person they were submitting to. Delilah wouldn’t know, nor understand what this meant, but to me, it was the greatest compliment she could give without saying the three words I wanted to hear.

I wish I had trusted her from the beginning. Wish I had bared my neck to her.

As the steam of the bath dissipated, I carefully lifted her out and wrapped her in a soft, warm towel. “I can get dressed,” she said and tried to take the towel as she stepped out of the tub.

I shook my head, struggling to comprehend the sight of her beautiful body. “Please, let me. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, and now I have the chance.”

Delilah tilted her head in curiosity until she nodded gently. I dried her hair and lotioned her body with my calloused hands. She wasn’t born a princess, entitled to carry on a noble line, but she was my queen, and I was going to treat her like she damn well deserved.

Once she was pampered, I settled her into the rocking chair, the wood creaking softly beneath her. As I changed the sheets of our bed, I watched her intently, making sure the fog of lust that continued to fade wouldn’t bring on fear.

Yet, she looked at me as if I hung her moon as I made our nest.

My scent poured from my body, bringing comfort to the nest and our room. And as I did, Delilah’s eyes grew heavier by the minute.

I chuckled, striding toward her, and lifted her with ease. Her thin body relaxed against me, and I laid her amongst the pillows and blankets. I removed the towel, taking one blanket and nudging it around her body so she was snug inside.

“I must talk to the warlock,” I whispered.

Delilah’s head perked up. “Yes, Bram.” She smiled. “Oh, I remembered his name,” she said sluggishly.

I brushed her hair away from her forehead, watching her eyes flutter in exhaustion. “He’s a warlock. They don’t like people knowing their names. A name is powerful. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bram wasn’t his real name, either.” I pursed my lips. “But I must speak with him, find out his true intentions.”

Delilah nodded, reaching her hand out to touch my bare chest. “Don’t be long? I don’t want to be alone.”

“You aren’t alone anymore, Delilah,” I muttered as she fell asleep. “Never again will you be alone.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hawke

Itookonelastlook, savoring the sweet scent of her breath as she slumbered.

All I wanted was to take her in my arms and whisper the words “I’ll never let you go”in her ear. We both still had trust to build with one another. Well, she had more of a journey than I did. I wanted her no matter the outcome, if I marked her or not.

I still couldn’t stand the thought of her dying because of me. Not that I would have to hold that guilt for long because I would soon follow her into death.

My wolf mumbled curses at me. He was holding onto what Delilah wanted and that was to be happy in the smallest of moments rather than be miserable for a long life.

We shut the door, watching our mate’s sleeping form until the door softly latched with a faint click. If there was no protection spell, then I wouldn’t leave her. But I could feel, smell, and taste the magic that surrounded this cigar shop. There were holes, though, small and minute enough that a weak witch or warlock could not penetrate it.

But if there was stronger magical beings, then we could be in a heap of trouble. This Bram was not as strong of a warlock as he once was, that I knew. He had weaknesses in his glamor that I could now see, knowing what he was.

I stepped onto the metal stairs, feeling the vibrations as I descended the winding staircase. I could hear Bram’s voice speaking with a customer. Bram immersed himself in the body he filled with a raspy, grumpy voice. His reasoning vague and argumentative as he tried to explain the unique properties of a special tobacco grown on some southern plantation.

The human male was skeptical about where the tobacco was grown based on how it smelled, but once I entered the room, his face fell. “Fine, I’ll take it.” The human flipped open a leather wallet holding several hundred-dollar bills. He took one out, taking the box of cigars from the counter, and strode out of the shop with a huff.

“Thank the gods you showed up. I did not know what I was talking about.” Bram leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Apparently, the human that owns this place bought a new strain of tobacco and knew little about it. I tried peering into his memories of what was so damned special about it, but nothing came up.”

I strode over behind the counter, my claws lengthening until I gripped Bram by the collar. I gave him a hard push against the wall, making the glasses of vintage scotch and rum rattle against each other. I pushed him one more time into the shelf, he grunted and grabbed my wrists with his old crooked fingers and smirked.

“Is there a problem...Gunnar?”

“Don’t call me that, Bram,” I hissed.

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