The Wolf Lord's Mate

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The rest of the ride was not quite so arduous now that I was sitting on the mare properly. I refused to admit—even to myself—that Nathaniel's presence was what made it easier because I was thoroughly convinced that while he had made me physically more comfortable, he had certainly not made the ride easy. The jostling of the mare had made our hips press and move together, and I had been forced to rub back against his groin on more than one occasion.

His grip on my waist would tighten every time, holding me in place against him as I could feel every inch by growing inch. I was helpless against my desire for him, my arousal growing worse every time it happened, until I could feel wetness soaking through my panties. My only hope was that there were so many smells coming from the woods that he wouldn't notice it, or at the very least, that he would have the decency not to mention it. It wasn't my fault, after all.

It was the bond that was causing it, and forcing us together on a single horse was bound to create some kind of reaction. Which I am positive was, of course, his irritating plan all along.

I tried too grind myself subtly against the saddle with the rhythm of the mare, but it wasn't enough. There was an ache blossoming inside of me, a throbbing need in my core that offered no relief.

We had been riding for a few hours when Nathaniel suddenly urged the mare to take a sharp turn at the edge of a stream, following the water up a short ravine. The sun was nearly out of the sky, the last rays peaking through the trees in the later afternoon.

"It's just over there," Nathaniel said, nudging me and gesturing towards the top of the ravine. And there, standing in a small clearing that was shrouded by tall trees, was the Lord's cabin. It was modestly sized, but still larger than I thought it would be for a place that Nathaniel had built himself, and it looked as though there was a small second story with a window near the top of the roof—probably some sort of loft room.

The cabin was built of dark wood, with a chimney sticking out of the roof, and a short porch leading down into a set of steps. The wooden exterior was well-worn after its years in the woods, but it only served to make it look homier somehow. While the Lord's manor felt imposing and grand, there was something comforting about the Lord's cabin; the kind of place I might have imagined living when I was a child, away from the bustle and danger of the town.

When we finally stopped, I was grateful that Nathaniel pulled himself down first, so that he did not have to see the wet spot on the saddle beneath me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I held onto his broad shoulders for support as he helped me dismount the mare.
I stepped away from both him and the mare immediately, putting a bit of distance between us as he tied the mare to a post outside.

"What do you think?" Nathaniel asked, glancing back at me as he grabbed the bag on the back of the saddle, "I hope you're not missing the manor already?"

"I haven't seen the inside yet," I said, stretching my legs, "But I think I already like it. It feels—cozy." It was true, it looked like something out a children's tale. "Will you show me inside?"

"Of course," Nathaniel gave an eager smile, and led me up to the front door, holding it open for me to pass through, "After you."

I stepped inside, the wooden floor creaking beneath my feet. The last remains of daylight still lit the cabin fairly well through the windows, and I could imagine in the full light of the day how rays of sun would splash against the floor. There was fireplace at the far wall surrounded by plush chairs and shelves of a varied assortment of objects—pelts, books, jars, and bits of things. A small kitchenette sat in the corner of the room, with a washbasin and a blackened stove with a cast-iron pot still resting atop it.

The whole space looked lived in and worn, so unlike the manor that I almost couldn't believe that Nathaniel lived here. It was almost—quaint, the sort of place I could easily imagine living. A short set of steps, more like a ships ladder than real stairs were positioned on the other wall, presumably leading up to the second story I had noticed from the exterior.
It had to be the bedroom. It was nice and cozy, probably, tucked away up there. And if it was cold, it would—

—Oh.

If that was the bedroom, then that was the only bedroom. The only place to sleep in the small and intimate space, other than overstuffed chairs, although my already sore back ached at the thought of a night twisted up on one.

My shadow on the floor was swallowed up by a much larger one as a presence appeared at my back. Nathaniel rested his hands on either sides of my arms, lightly rubbing them up and down. Tingles danced across my skin at his touch, and my body screamed at me to lean in to him. I would have thought that being pressed against him for so long would have given my traitor body its fix, but it seemed to have had the opposite problem. Every time I was nearer to him or learned some new part of him, it only made me crave more.

"Mira" I shivered as Nathaniel's low voice rumbled in my ear, "Would you like to go to bed?"

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