Pawn Among Wolves

PAWN AMONG WOLVES CH. 12

"You're saying this was me?" asked Gemma incredulously, stroking her finger gently along the white crescent of a fresh scar on Mac's forearm. She shivered lightly in distaste, sitting on his lap. Her mate tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her closer against him and kissed her temple gently, lips smiling while he lazily steered the yacht one-handed.

"You're a feisty little madam when you want something: last night you wanted me." The deep voice resonated with smugness. Then he sighed mournfully before adding, "Whereas I just wanted a romantic, starlit cruise."

Gemma's heart lightened and she snorted indignantly. "Yes, well, you obviously need sparring practice - you must be getting slow if I can catch you." Then she soothed her fingertip a second time along the curve of the slightly raised white line, stroking gently, and guilt roiled again in her chest.

"You didn't want to fight me; you wanted to pin me down and ravish me," her mate corrected her. And then added in an undertone, "I don't think you were in a rage at all, you were just pretending."

Right. Her stomach was churning at the knowledge of the new blank gap in her life, but her lips were twitching.

"So the poor little Alpha got hurt trying to protect his virtue?" she drawled sarcastically.

"No, I got hurt because I let a delightfully enthusiastic werewolf have her wicked way with me," he grinned against her hair, before turning his head to nibble on her ear. "Couldn't resist."

Wait a sec. "I thought you, um, restrained me when we - when I'm in the rage and we're. Um. You and I," Gemma spluttered to a halt, a flush rising in her cheek. Blushing again, dammit.

She'd experienced the restraints a couple of times over the four days at Rainbow Falls - surfacing from the blankness to find herself bound and gagged, limbs immobilised. And usually being very thoroughly, lusciously adored with tongue, teeth, and hands. The whole of him. Damn the blank patches in her memory. She was missing so much.

Mac leaned closer and whispered the missing words in her ear, "When we're making love?" Her skin shivered to his breath. And his words. She'd noticed that the wolves tended to call a spade a spade, and a little glow lit inside now as he described how their sexual relationship was changing, too. Changing from less frantic to long, slow savouring of each other. Well, sometimes.

Her mate sat back again and shrugged. "You lost control last night because you hung down in the cabin too long, making us tea. Wolves get badly travel sick, partially from the confined feeling in most vehicles - I wasn't going to add to the torment. And no-one could hear you. Besides, you weren't really aggressive, just - uncontrolled." Mac's eyes were gleaming at the memory.

He had had to tie her up when she was insane over the last four days. The hotel had indicated that they were decidedly concerned about the loud shrieks and howls which sometimes emanated from their suite. And you couldn't effectually gag a wolf - or werewolf - without immobilising the claws also. Gemma had been the one who had insisted that they stay at Rainbow Falls as long as possible, not wanting the blissful escape to end. Not yet. Despite what Mac had said about it irritating the wolf in her, Gemma's secretly believed that her real annoyance with being tied up was that she couldn't remember.

He didn't agree. So could she persuade her mate to tie her up when she was compos mentis? No.

Damn stubborn wolf.

"You should restrain me: I bit you!" she murmured sadly, tracing the marks of her teeth.

She could feel his lips smiling as he kissed her again, right over his original bite on her neck, lips lingering.