The Mates of Monsters
Chapter 51

"I should have told you sooner."

"You told me; that's all that matters. You have to keep telling me these things, okay?"

I close my eyes. "I'd never want to hurt you or the pack."

"I know. I know," he says, his hand on the back of my head. "You're a good girl, Brigette."

"I would never try to hurt the pack. Never. I just-I don't want anyone getting hurt because of him."

"If Aurora wants help, we can help her without getting ourselves into trouble."

I shake my head. "It's complicated. She said we can't protect her. No one can keep her from him, not when she has his child."

"She's right. It is complicated, but we don't turn to murder for a solution. That's a slippery slope-we don't do that anymore."

I stay with him until the hide tide of chaotic emotion sweeps back out. Obviously, I won't leave, but that tense side of my brain is ready to resort to it when I'm backed into a corner. If this Luna act fails me, then I can always catch myself in my net of cold-blooded solitude. But I don't want to believe that because it isn't true. That net-it's just another trap.

Some chaos remains, and I step on my tippy toes and press my mouth to his, kissing him slowly, carefully so I can soak it in and remember the exact feeling. He holds my jaw and pushes back, wanting something harder. He licks my lip and I open my mouth, letting him do as he pleases. I try to reach higher, so he brings his hands to the back of my thighs and lifts me against his body, gripping me and making me squirm. "Please," I mumble between our kisses. "I know...it's difficult...but-"

"Come on," he says and carries me out of the spare room and down the hall. My fingers intertwine with each other behind his neck, and every couple of steps, he leaves a kiss on my cheek, or my nose, or my lips, so I break his rhythm and kiss him back. David avoids the melted ice pack on the floor and takes me to the bed. He sets me down and I wait to adapt to his next move, but instead of coming down with me, he grabs the waistband of my jeans and tugs me closer only to unbutton them. I sit up and draw my knees to my chest, not expecting my pants to come off first. He leans over to kiss me, bringing me back to him before saying, "I won't if you don't want me to."

"You won't..." I search his eyes for clarity.

He smiles slightly and draws my shirt off of my body, so I raise my arms and let him. He takes off his shirt after, and my heart thumps relentlessly, hurting. "Can I take your jeans off?" He asks softly, as delicate as his hands.

I nod, so he finishes what he already started. He pulls them off and discards them on the floor along with the other pieces of clothing. I look to his pants, but he raises my chin.

"We have all the time in the world," he reminds me.

I touch my bra and ask, "Will you be okay?"

"I meant it when I said I don't want to lose control, but it's easier said than done, as you know." He strokes my hair then reaches under my arms, undoing the clasp. "Can you be patient with me?"

"Yes," I whisper, and guide the straps off my shoulders. I take it all the way off and place it to the side. David comes to me swiftly, lowering us both to the blankets, moving between my legs. He kisses my mouth but glides down my neck to my collarbone. My stomach rises and drops and jolts as he hovers above me, and the knotting inside worsens when he kisses my breast. I shift and force my head back, watching the ceiling as David gives attention to both. My legs fight to slam together, but instead, they clamp around his body. One hand settles on my inner thigh, and he loosens my hold on him. I arch my back as he rubs up and down my leg, each round seemingly getting closer to my panties. All my words revert to sound, little moans and gasps and breaths. His mouth leaves my chest as he returns his eyes to mine, but his hand doesn't stop. "Have you touched yourself?" He asks.

I nod and breathe, "Yes."

He draws a finger down the front of my underwear and I melt, pushing my body into the mattress. "When?"

My eyes look to the bathroom and he follows them. "When you were gone."

"In there?"

"In the shower," I admit, showing no shame. How could I when the details interest him so much? "I missed you."

David swallows and breathes in. "Can I talk these off?" He asks, his fingers running just under the thin band. My gut pinches with a tinge of anxiety.

I nod again, slower.

He leans back and does as permitted; David inches my underwear down my legs and my lungs begin to burn. My knees automatically click together like magnets, but he promptly opens them, squeezing tighter until he remembers his strength and how little of it I can take. His hands come to my hips as his forehead drops to my stomach. A stranger may think he's praying over me-worshiping. "David?" I call quietly, unsure of whether or not I should cover myself.

He leaves a kiss below my belly button. "You're so lovely," he says against my skin. "So perfect."

Then he kisses me there, and I immediately push myself up the bed, almost slipping away from him. He peers at me and I relax. Breath by breath I let myself go, and he resumes, keeping a firm grip as I continuously buck and pull. My head tilts down and my eyes watch his fingers as they press into the soft skin of my thighs. His mouth, his tongue-my blood rushes to every corner of my body and my face flushes with heat.

My chest fills and empties with air drenched in our scents, and I release my moans and whines of pleasure until he brings me over the edge and I find myself in a free fall, plummeting off the ladder and landing in a place so euphoric I can't help but smile. Every limb releases its pressure and floats on the duvet beneath me. My hands smooth back his hair as my body begins to calm like startled water.

David returns to me and clears a hair from my face. My lips part but no words come out. "Do you like when I kiss you there?" He asks.

I study his face with big, loving eyes. "Yes," I murmur, "I do."

David moves himself against me, letting me settle on his strength, in his protection. My hand reaches for the blankets to cover myself, but he distracts me when he runs his hand down my bare side. Everything goes quiet as I concentrate on his movements; his fingertips exploring the slope of my hip then sweeping across my back. Chills drive me further into him, and I rest my head on his chest.

"You're mine," he says. "You understand, don't you?"

He's thinking with his Alpha brain. That territorial quality surfaces in his voice, and the butterflies go wild in my gut at the sound of it. "I'm yours," I recite, remembering our promise. "Only yours."