Page 90 of Ruthlessly Mated
Her knees buckle as I pull free of her, but I scoop her up before she can fall. I snug her up into my arms, whispering little words of praise and love as I carry her back toward the house.
Conroy and Damon are still having sandwiches when I carry her through the front door in a bridal carry, keeping her close and relatively modest, though her pants are still at her knees and I know the scents of arousal and seed will be quite obvious to them.
I carry her upstairs to the bathroom, where I help her clean off in the shower, keeping her close to my body as warm water and soap lather acts as the final cleansing forgiveness between us.
“I think you need a nap, little one,” I say. She has been very quiet, practically wordless. In Kita’s case, I know that to be a good thing. It means I have made some kind of impression on her. I have given her something to think about, not just act on.
CHAPTER 19
Kita
I really cannot get away with anything anymore. That realization makes me feel safe, and it makes me feel trapped at the same time. I am going to have three sets of eyes on me for the rest of my life. I’m going to be… fuck, I can’t even be bothered finishing that thought.
I crawl into bed, even though it is only three o’clock in the afternoon. Tailor leaves me to sleep on my own, though he tucks me in and I have the feeling that he will know if I so much as move.
My ass and pussy are aching, and my lower belly feels heavy. It has been some time since I bled. I wonder if I am already pregnant, if all these events are already irrevocably in motion.
I close my eyes and dream of explosives, and trucks, and open roads. The memories are exciting, invigorating—and solitary.
No matter how much I might become attached to my mates, there is still something in me that pulls me toward the horizon.Any horizon. Adventure draws me. The unknown fascinates me. They want to domesticate me, but I am wild. That is what my mind tries to tell me over and over as it generates grand internal vistas like the ones I used to experience before finding the loves of my life.
At some point in the evening, the others join me in bed. I know this because the next morning I wake up in Conroy’s arms, my legs draped over Damon’s mid-section. I am sleeping somewhat sideways on the bed, snuggled and wrapped up and twisted in the sheets.
I get up and pad down to the kitchen, searching for coffee.
“No caffeine for you,” Tailor says, snatching the cup out of my hand like a well-dressed ninja ghost. He came up behind me so quietly I did not sense him coming. For a moment, I am going to curse him out, but the words die on my lips as he looks down at me, a brow half-raised as if to challenge me.
“You have anything to say?”
“One coffee won’t hurt me,” I say. “But it might hurt you if I don’t get it.”
“Interesting. I would have thought yesterday’s lesson in respect would have made you more careful about mouthing off to me, Kita. But I suppose you have always enjoyed dangerous games. Coffee isn’t good for babies,” he says.
“I’m not pregnant yet.”
“No, but it’s not too early to get ready for the changes associated with motherhood.”
I make a gagging sound and walk out. I need some air. I need some coffee.
I go down to Coastwood. I know they’re going to be mad at me, so I leave a note on the fridge, so they don’t think I’ve disappeared into a vampire’s trap, or anything like that.
I go to the doctor’s, just walk right in and sit down and wait as other people file in and out of her little office. Someone has sniffles. Someone else has aches. Someone else is bleeding. I think about leaving, because it’s stupid to be here. I’m not pregnant. Yes, I’ve been doing the thing that makes you pregnant, but pregnancy feels to me the same as death does—it’s something that happens to other people. Not me.
“Kita! Nice to see you. What can I do for you?” Mandy asks when I get to see her. She’s smiling at me, looking so normal and so nice. I almost get up and walk out of there, because I’m probably wasting her time.
“Uhm. It’s, er…”
She waits patiently, as if she’s used to this sort of thing from people. I’m definitely wasting her time.
“Have you been feeling unwell?” she prompts me gently.
“Uh… well…”
“Is there something else you’d like to talk to me about?”
“Hm. So. I was thinking…”
She sits, still so patient. So kind. I just have to say it.
