Page 139 of Conner's Luna

I shriek a little when he pounces, growling manically before kissing me, hard. When he pulls away, he's laughing. "You're an ass," I say, grumpy.

He picks me up, right off my feet, and kisses me again. "I love you," he says softly.

"I love you, too," I smile, before I think further, "unless you're really going to kill me. Then you suck."

He just laughs again. He nuzzles my ear, inhaling my scent again before he sets me on my feet and backs away.

"OK, honeygirl. My turn to confess, yeah?"

…

A half-hour passes. Conner has taken to pacing, his strides eating up the small space. I half-expect to see ruts forming in the floor, but it's already so worn and polished from what seems to be a century of boots stomping across it that Conner isn't making a dent.

I sit on the couch, watching him pace worriedly. He looks ill. His mouth is held tight like it used to be when he and I would hide in the university's supply closets, but right now his skin is greenish. It's like he is going to puke and he is in pain, all at once.

"Conner?" I say his name with hesitation. I really don't think I want to know what has him so upset. Trepidation is rising in my gut. Whatever he has to say to me must be bad.

"You are staying on my packlands," he says abruptly.

His declaration is so harsh and sudden I jump. I think about what he is saying and feel the blood drain out of my face. "You're getting back together with Lydia," I say faintly. In that instant, it's the worst thought I have.

"Fuck, Bailey. That isn't happening. Not fucking-ever," he snaps, tossing me an irritated look. "Listen, Uncle Alex has this... policy… I guess. It's fucking stupid, but whatever. Anyway, I’m supposed to confess shit to you."

I blink at him. He stares back, the ashy skin chased away by the healthy glow of his obvious frustration. He needs to confess 'shit' to me. Oh, crap. I can feel my heart beginning to race. Conner has bodies buried in his basement. Or, maybe when a wolf mates a human they die a year later. Or he and Sean want a threesome.

My face turns red at that last thought.

"I would love to know what you’re thinking about right now," he says softly. He is smiling at me. He always loves to see me squirm in embarrassment.

"None of your business," I grouch, "it's not my confession time." I watch his smile fade with a pinch of regret.

"I have to tell you about my sexual indiscretions."

Gosh, darn it. "No, you don't!" I practically shout. My face heats up even more.

"Yes, Bails, I do. Just... let me speak, honeygirl, OK?"

I nod, silently encouraging him, but wincing in anticipation on the inside.

Conner takes a deep breath. Cripes, is it that bad? "Before I met you, Bailey, I had sex with three females." He's talking in a remote way as if he prepared this speech in his head before having this 'confessional.'

"I- the first two- the first one," he amends, "was just some touching, a couple of handjobs. Experimenting, really. I cut that shit short when Papa found out." He shudders a little at the memory. "Then I had another girl, a few months ago, who gave me a lapdance on my birthday and finished with a bj. I was really fucked up that night. OK?" He looks at me expectantly.

I will not laugh.

Not that this funny, it's not remotely amusing to hear about it and my jealousy is slightly seething... but c'mon. This is Conner. He's gorgeous and rich and powerful and sexy with a capital Oomph. All this man ever did was fool around? I've done some things, too. Not like with Conner... nothing is like 'with Conner.'

"Were you a virgin with me?" I blurt out. Idiot, Bailey, you're an idiot. I mentally smack myself.

His face drops. "No, I'm not. Bailey... sweetheart... promise me you'll never leave me?" he asks desperately.

All of the hidden humor I feel evaporates. Tears well in my eyes as my breath hitches in my chest. "What happened, Conner?" I whisper.

"I met Lydia last summer, remember me telling you?"

I nod. I don't like where this is going, but it can't be possible. It doesn't make any sense.

"It was before I met you, honeygirl, OK? I met Lydia in June and for two weeks Trey wasn't at the Gathering. That's this festival Uncle Alex holds so we can mingle with other packs and shit. Trey, that fucker, was late. I don't know why," he says in a tone that tells me he doesn't give a darn where Trey was. "For two weeks, Bailey, my Bailey," he swallows audibly, closing his eyes in shame. "We accepted each other. We... we fucked constantly, Bails. I... we mated without Claiming each other officially. I had no idea - I didn't know that she was planning on ditching me. I still don't know what happened, not really. I... fuck! I'm sorry, sweetheart, I wish now I never touched her. I swear on my life, honeygirl, if I could erase those days I would."

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