Enemy Mine

Chapter Seven

The doctor inspected the wound on her head, flashed a light in her eyes and gave Mary the all clear. He told her she could take a bath and wash her hair so long as she rinsed carefully and avoided contact with the sutures. The word bath made her insides quiver. It would feel so good to sink into a pool of hot water and relax for the first time in days. She agreed to be extra careful and left Emory in the bedroom as she carried her bag into the bathroom, eager to start filling the large tub. She felt repulsive, sweaty and gross. Her hair had become sticky and tangled and she was pretty sure she was starting to stink.

Yuck.

After she pulled clean pajamas and underwear from her bag, she went to the tub, turned the faucets and got the water good and hot. Steam quickly filled the room, encasing her in warmth. After sliding out of her T-shirt and underwear, she rushed to the bathtub. The water was just right—a slight burn before her skin adjusted. She rested back at the head of the tub, closing her eyes.

“Mary?” Emory’s voice had her lurching upright, wrapping her arms over her breasts.

“Yeah?” Excited tingles spread through her tummy down to her sex. He sounded so gruff—so incredibly sexy—when he said her name like that.

“Doc said I should help you wash your hair. He doesn’t want to risk any bleeding.”

“Oh.” The doctor hadn’t said anything to her about it. Likely he’d known she’d argue.

“I won’t take advantage.” He chuckled. “Difficult as it might be, I can be a gentleman.”

She lifted her legs to her chest and slid her arms around her knees. Emory didn’t have to tell her he was capable of being a gentleman. She already knew he was. Still, it didn’t stop the wisps of electricity that traveled through her body. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as her nipples hardened into points and her pussy became wet. They’d started something they hadn’t been able to finish earlier, something she knew Emory had every intention of seeing through to the end. Glancing down, she figured she was covered well enough. The water came to her chest and her knees prevented him from seeing her breasts.

“Okay.” She managed to force the word out, although her voice sounded strained.

He laughed again and the sound made her heart race and her pulse quicken. His footsteps sounded like drums as he walked toward the bathroom, warning her he was almost there, nearly at the finish line. When the bathroom door swung inward she held her breath and stared ahead, unable to look in his direction.

Damn her self-awareness. She wasn’t brave enough to glance at Emory when he strode by the tub, walked to a shelf and retrieved shampoo. She buried her nails in her hands, trying to stop the fuzzy feeling coming over her, mortified at how erect her nipples were and how much they ached. Then of course there was the throbbing coming from down below, beating like a hammer.

She jerked as though she’d been hit when he touched her shoulder. Instantly she felt like a ninny. “I’m sorry,” she blurted and started babbling. “I didn’t mean to jump. I knew you were there. I’m just nervous and—”

“Mary.” Emory moved from the back of the tub, kneeling beside it, and placed a finger over her lips. “It’s okay. No need to apologize.” When she met his eyes and nodded, he lowered his hand. “Just sit back and relax. This isn’t torture.”

Then he smiled.

The effect it had on her was mind-blowing, breaking down the walls she tried to erect around herself. A wrecking ball would have been weak in comparison, hitting the surface but unable to crack the barriers existing on the inside. Seeing his gorgeous eyes shining, the color glorious amber, combined with his stunning face…

I’m a goner.

“I’m going to grab a few things to make this easier,” he murmured, as though he could read her thoughts.

Although he was gone in a flash, she still felt him in the room, could actually sense him in a weird way. The fire in her bloodstream only burned hotter, making the steaming water more of an annoyance now than a luxury. Once he had everything he needed Emory instructed her to lean back. She did and he carefully lifted her hair off her back and shoulders, keeping it from touching the water. When she was settled he started carefully combing through the strands, the sensation finally allowing her to sag against the back of the tub and close her eyes.

“I’ve always loved your hair. It’s so soft and long.”

She didn’t respond, relaxing as he continued brushing the tangles away. After several minutes he helped her recline in the bathtub to wet the strands, avoiding the stitched area on her temple. She’d considered his view, knew he could see all of her, but she felt so good she didn’t care.

He helped her sit upright when the strands were wet, then he leaned her back in the tub. The he started shampooing her scalp, working his way through the long locks. Who knew it would feel so good to have someone else clean your hair? This was nothing like visits to the local beauty shop where the woman scrubbed her head roughly, patted it dry and threw a towel over the mess she’d created.

This was… It was…

Seduction.

“Now we need to rinse this out.” Emory’s voice was gravelly, a heavy whisper near her head. “Sit up and lean back.”

He held her head when she did as he asked, keeping her injury above water. She heard an odd scrape and realized Emory had brought a glass with him to help rinse out the shampoo. Over and over he dipped the glass into the water and poured the contents over her hair. In the area near her stitches he used a cloth, cleaning away any bubbles, a look of absolute concentration on his face.

“There you go.” He grinned again and swept his lips over her nose. “All better?”

“Oh yeah.” She sighed and lifted her head, grasping the sides of the bathtub.

Thankfully her modesty wasn’t put into question. Emory started cleaning up the clutter around him, returning things to their proper places. She wondered if he’d considered doing something more, thought about him lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her like he had before. The idea was one of which her body approved. The hovering flush spread over her, heating her from the inside out.

Trying to keep her thoughts away from sex, she sat up and reached for her hair. Squeezing the strands, she tried to get out as much water as possible. Her hair was slow to dry so it was important to wring it out several times if she didn’t want to spend thirty minutes with a blow dryer.

A low, horrifying growl rent the air and Mary froze. Her heart went from racing to pounding, fear kicking in, taking her back to a time when the slightest misstep could bring hell raining down upon her. Unable to prevent herself, she peered over her shoulder. Emory was studying her back and his eyes—oh dear God, his eyes—were the brightest shade of yellow she’d ever seen.

“Emory?”

“Who?” The word was more of a sound—a snarl.

“Calm down, please.” She kept her voice smooth and calm, motions slow and nonthreatening. “What do you mean, who?”

His unexpected movement had her crying out, fear impossible to beat back. He was gentle when he grasped her shoulder and faced her forward so that she had to look straight ahead. The lightest whisper of a fingertip over her back revealed the source of his fury and she closed her eyes.

Sometimes—during moments like these when she let the world around her fall away—she forgot they were there.

“You undressed me,” she whispered, ashamed of the crisscrossed scars on her skin. She hated how ugly they looked, how they would always serve as a reminder of what she’d endured. “You had to have seen them.”

“Ava took care of you.” The deep, terrifying rasp when he spoke was gone. Now he sounded almost sad. “I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. I wanted to respect your privacy.” He stopped over one of the worst scars—the one that had bled through the stitching and ruined so many of her shirts. “She should have told me. She should have warned me.”

“She probably felt it was my story to tell.” And it was not a story she wanted to revisit, even if she knew she had to. “Elijah punished me shortly after I freed a group of shifters from the storage building behind his house. He felt a cane would make the best impression.”

Emory’s finger stopped moving. “You did what?”

She turned so that she could see his face. He looked so furious, as though he wanted to knock the hell out of something.

“It didn’t take me long to put two and two together. I knew what my uncle was doing and I refused to be a part of it. I snuck down to the building one day and released the shifters he had caged.”

“And you stayed?” He was angry again. “Why the hell didn’t you run?”

“I couldn’t. The shifters I let go didn’t trust me so they forced me inside one of the cages before they left.” She skimmed her fingertips over Emory’s jaw, directly over the area where the muscles were drawn tight. Drudging up events they couldn’t change wouldn’t do either of them any favors. She needed to soothe Emory, not provoke his anger. “It’s over and done. I’ll never go back. I did what I had to do and I got out.”

“I want to bloodbond to you—tonight.” Emory’s intense stare warned her he meant exactly what he said. She tried not to tremble at the determination in his face. “I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to take any risks. I want to know that nothing can harm you. That you’ll be safe.”

He must have sensed the apprehension she felt because he lowered his voice and leaned in so his breath caressed her face. “I’ll give you everything I am. I swear it. If you trust me you’ll never have any reason to regret it. Start a life with me, Mary. Let’s leave the past behind and create a new future together.” Fingers twined in the wet hair at her nape so that she had to tilt her chin to maintain eye contact. “Let me love you, angel eyes.”

Love you. Angel eyes.

Four simple words that carried so much weight.

All her reservations, all her doubts, all her fears and uncertainties disappeared. There was nothing aside from Emory with his glowing irises, shadowed chin and an open look of hope on his face. A look she was responsible for. A look that—if Ava was telling the truth—he would never give to any other woman for the rest of his life.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Memories of the time they had spent together long ago surfaced. Of his gentle nature, of how attentive he was at all times, of the way he’d looked at her as though she was something precious to be sheltered and protected. She’d thought it was because he was chivalrous, a gentleman existing among assholes.

Now she knew better.

All of it was for her—only for her.

Isn’t that what she’d always longed for? A family like the one she’d lost? A chance to start over? Yes, there were sacrifices to be made, changes she’d have to accept. But sometimes a person had to take a chance and have faith that the risk was worth the reward.

She moved as close to him as she could, until her breasts pressed against the tub, and put her hands on his shoulders. Her family would never stop searching for her, but they’d never stop searching for shifters either. She knew that without a shadow of a doubt. But with Emory at her side, nothing seemed impossible.

Double the danger, double the fun.

“Love me.”

Water sloshed all over the floor when he lifted her from the tub, soaking his shirt in the process. She opened her mouth to protest and he silenced her with a deep kiss, possessing her mouth as if putting it to memory. Slowly he lowered her to the ground, breaking their kiss just long enough to grab a nearby towel and pat her down. Starting with her hair, he ventured lower until he kneeled at her feet. His gaze roamed over her breasts and her stomach and hovered on her pussy.

“I’m going to start here,” he said and palmed her mound, sending her on her toes. “And work my way up. I’m going to make you feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good.”

He lifted his gaze, meeting her eyes as he stood. He was so tall, so intimidating. Yet she’d never felt safer in her life. Placing hands at her knees and back, he swept her into his arms. Burying her face into his chest, she breathed him in, holding on tight as he took her from the bathroom into the bedroom.

The time for thinking things over had passed. Emory was going to take her, claim her as his mate and show her the pleasures she’d long dreamed about.

And she was going to let him.

Take it slow. Take what she’s offering like the gift it is. Don’t fuck this up.

Emory was shaking by the time he placed Mary on the bed. His cock had been hard from the moment he saw her lithe, naked body in the bathtub, making him envious of the water that cradled her. He knew he had to take things slow, to get her ready. But the wolf had other ideas. The primal part of him wanted to vanish between Mary’s thighs and lap at her honey until she screamed his name. It wanted to force her onto her hands and knees, making her take him from behind, starting the first mark, initiating their bond.

Fucking—hard and fast—was all the animal could think about.

Back off, he growled at the beast. You’ll get what you want soon enough.

He took a step back and reached for the back of his shirt between his shoulder blades, slipping the material over his head. He left his jeans on, taking things one step at a time. First he was going to show her how good his mouth could make her feel. Then, when she was ready, he’d introduce her to the pleasure only his cock could provide.

She backed up until her shoulders rested on the pillows. There was no way she could have known she’d positioned herself perfectly, resting in a way that gave him just the access he needed. He prowled to her slowly, aware of the precise moment she became embarrassed by her nudity and the way she was on display for him. Lifting her arms and closing her legs, she tried to hide from him.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured and stopped before her, running his hands up and down her calves. “You’re beautiful. Let me see you.”

Her cheeks turned cherry red as she parted her thighs, allowing him to see her fully, the outline of her labia and the hood of her clit clearly visible. A thatch of blonde curls rested at the top of her slit. The sight sped up the lust in his blood, making his cock jerk. He could smell how turned-on she was, could see the glimmer of her arousal on the lips of her pussy. The folds were pink, contrasting beautifully with the creamy paleness of her legs. He wanted to tell her just how hard her cunt made him, how the sight made him want to fuck her senseless, but he kept it to himself. Verbal foreplay was something he enjoyed but she was new to this level of intimacy. He had to introduce her to things when she was ready, not before.

Shifting closer, he lowered himself to his stomach. Her scent, so fragrant, female and clean, had him closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. One taste wouldn’t be enough. He planned to tongue her until she begged him to stop, keep going until she begged him for more and take her to heights she’d never forget.

At the first touch of his tongue—a soft, teasing flick against her clit—she gasped. He repeated the motion then lowered his head, following the outer folds of her cunt, keeping his touch gentle as he tasted her cream. At first she stiffened, muscles drawn taut as a bow. Then, slowly, with each tender lick and kiss, she relaxed.

“Oh my,” she whispered, her hips lifting to match the motions of his mouth. “Emory.”

He continued, moving up and down, ’round and ’round, avoiding contact with the inner folds and her clit. When her knees fell to the mattress, opening her entirely to his gaze, he brought his hands to the apex of her thighs and parted her vaginal lips with his thumbs. She was so wet and smelled so fucking good but that was nothing compared to how she tasted. That second long lap he took, an intentional flattening of his tongue as he licked her from top to bottom in a smooth, strong stroke, almost had him coming in his jeans.

“I want… I need…” She pressed her pussy against his face, rolling her hips in harmony with the glides of his tongue.

Blowing a steady flow of air against her clit, he whispered, “I know what you need. I know exactly what you need.”

This time he didn’t go slowly or treat her with care. He went at her like the animal he was, licking and nipping, manipulating her clit with his thumb. To his immense delight, Mary stopped muffling her cries, moaning and gasping for breath as he licked her hard and fast. He thrummed the bead at the top of her pussy, using light strokes. It wasn’t enough to send her over but it would be. Just the right amount of pressure and he’d send her soaring. She started shaking, her ass growing tense against the mattress as the minutes passed. He positioned his finger at the mouth of her sex, used his other hand to pull back the hood masking her clit and sucked the nub into his mouth.

She wailed into the pillow as she came, her entire body thrashing, and he slid his finger into her moist depths. She was so tight—too fucking tight. Despite that, she didn’t try to stop his prodding, riding out the waves of pleasure as he moved his finger in and out of her body, timing each thrust with the flicks of his tongue. It was only when her orgasm had passed that she squirmed and looked down at him.

“It’s too much.” She panted, trying to even her breathing. “I’m so sensitive now.”

He released her clit but didn’t stop stroking the satiny velvet that clenched his finger, clasping him like a fist. Fuck she was beautiful like this. Her hair was tangled around her shoulders, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were darker than usual. She looked exactly as a woman should after she’d come hard and fast, a little unkempt and a whole lot happy. He added another finger to the first, stretching her wider.

This time she tensed at the intrusion.

“I need you to relax for me, sweetheart.” He entered her pussy with shallow strokes, waiting until she trusted him enough to go deeper. “That’s right. Let me in. Good girl. Just like that.” He tried to ignore the tension creeping up his neck, the wolf no longer content to stand on the sidelines. “I want to make sure I don’t hurt you. You’re so small and tight. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“It doesn’t hurt, it’s just…different.”

Glancing at her, he cocked a brow. “Different?”

“Well, I mean, it feels kind of…” She looked away, embarrassed.

Dominance took over, the beast inside him breaking through his barriers. He thrust his fingers firmly into her, growling. “Tell me how it feels.”

Flexing his wrist, he started working her with his fingers as he brought his other hand to her clit, using his index finger to create small circles over it. Mary arched her back, taking him deeper, and thrust her hips against his hand.

“Tell me, Mary,” he ordered, continuing to pound into her with his fingers, finding that his fingers came away coated in hot liquid warmth with each retreat.

“Full…oh God…so incredibly full.”

“What else?” He tried to pull back, to stop himself from going too far, but he knew it was a battle lost. He’d waited too long for Mary, needed her too much to stop.

“Good,” she moaned, pushing her pussy into his hand. “It feels so good.”

He released her and moved off the bed to kick off his boots and pull off his socks. His pants were destroyed as he ripped them away, using the claws that appeared in place of his fingernails. He ached with the need to bury his cock so deeply inside his mate she’d become a permanent part of him. He kept his eyes on Mary the entire time, monitoring every expression on her face, aware that his eyes were glowing and she could clearly see the wolf inside him now.

Don’t run from me, he thought. Afraid that she just might when he was totally nude and she eyed the stalk of his cock, which rose to his bellybutton. Genetics made him a large man—everywhere. If the wolf didn’t terrify her, his bodily proportions just might.

He was thrown off guard when she extended her arms—arms that were trembling—and said, “Come here.”

She’d said those two words earlier, right before she brushed her lips against his and proved that she wasn’t afraid of him. A sharp pain pierced the center of his chest, the magnitude of what he was witnessing strong enough to bring him to his knees. Mary—his sweet, beautiful mate—was offering herself to him without reservation, without fear.

She saw the beast in the man—she saw him—and she accepted them both.

He charged her wildly, a tidal wave washing to the shore, coming to her as she asked—no holding back, no pretending this was anything other than what it was. She didn’t struggle when he settled between her legs, the bulbous head of his cock sliding against her vaginal lips as he dipped his head to kiss her.

Their lips met, parted and their tongues touched. Circular motions followed by rotating suction. He deepened the kiss, plunging into the warmth of her mouth as he fisted his cock, aligning the tip with the slick well of her pussy. When he was in place he pressed inside, inching forward, taking his time. Back and forth he went, keeping his plunges shallow. She was so tight he had to work his way in, fighting her fisting walls, the steady rocking allowing him to sink deeper inside her. Sweat trickled down his back, his arms trembling with the effort to go slowly.

“Don’t hold back. I won’t break.” Mary grasped his biceps, her breath a warm caress against his mouth. “I trust you. Let yourself go.”

She was brave beyond her years or completely foolish. Either way, the wolf obliterated the final barrier Emory had resurrected, making him more beast than man. He thrust his full length into her, growling at the snug clasp of her pussy as he went balls-deep, at the way she surrounded him like fiery velvet. Her cry of pain rang in his ears. Despite the animal riding him and dictating his actions, he somehow managed to gain enough control to hold still, giving Mary time to become accustomed to his size. Her eyes were closed, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth.

“It won’t hurt anymore,” he murmured and brushed kisses over her eyes. “Go soft for me, Mary. Let me take you back to where we started. I want to make you feel good.”

He felt her muscles flex as she tried to relax beneath him. Lowering his head, he lavished affection on her breasts, sucking her nipples one at a time. Her ragged breathing told him she enjoyed breast play, as did the wetness that drenched his cock. Excellent, he loved playing with her breasts as much as she enjoyed having his mouth on them. He rotated soft bites with soothing licks, rotating his tongue around her areolas. When she started swaying her hips he rose above her. Watching her face, he slowly withdrew from her heat, the walls of her pussy as tight as a second skin. To Emory’s relief the wolf backed off, content that his long, lonely wait for his mate was over.

Stopping with only the head inside her body, he murmured, “Look at me.”

Her eyes opened, revealing dark pools of endless ochre.

Then he moved, gliding slowly inside her—studying her face as her eyes fluttered and her lips parted—until he was sheathed to the hilt. Once he was buried within her he stayed there, extending the moment, making it last.

“Damn, you feel good.” And she did, so tight and hot, wet and flexing. “Like fire and velvet, angel eyes. So fucking soft and sweet.”

“This is really happening.” There was a hint of wonder in the words. Mary touched his chest, fingers skimming over his collarbone. She stopped when she came to the tattoo on his arm, a representation of his wolf. The black colors were carefully done, almost like a portrait that ran from his elbow to his shoulder.

“Yes, it is.” He trapped her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He ran his fingers along her knuckles, the touch feathersoft.

Her brows knotted as she shifted her hips, lifting her pelvis upward. The motion took him deeper inside her, causing them both to moan. Releasing her hand, he grasped her ass. He held a cheek in each hand, guiding her into a rhythm as he started thrusting, slow and steady, strong and deep. Any pain she’d felt was long gone, replaced by pure sexual need. Her arousal burned his nose, mingling with the sweet scent that he would always associate with her.

Mary.

My mate.

Their motions became harder—faster—as she fucked herself on his cock. Her fingernails pierced his skin, her moans becoming louder. Bringing his hand between their bodies, he applied steady pressure to her clit, eager to give her release, to solidify the first state of the bloodbond.

“Come for me.” He quickened the motion, thrusting into her harshly, timing it perfectly and bringing them to the pinnacle together. When her cunt tightened around him, rippling and flexing, he allowed himself to follow. He roared as he came, keeping going until Mary stopped crying out in pleasure and started whimpering in pain.

Shit.

The worst part—the one he didn’t want to think about—was now upon them. The moment he pulsed into her womb, the mating process started. He felt the shift in his body, a tiny part of the wolf sliding from his flesh to merge into her. Although it felt right to him, it pained her, and that was something he’d sworn he’d never do.

“I have you. I’m here.” He held her down as she thrashed, keeping her locked against him as the first stage of the bloodbond began.

“It hurts. Why does it hurt?” There was so much confusion, so much misery in the question. “I can’t see. Oh God. I can’t see!”

“I know, it’s all right. I’m here. I won’t let you go.”

I’ll never let you go.

There was nothing to do but hold her, to wait out the fire rushing through her veins, forming the first mark between them as the wolf enhanced her senses, changing her reflexes and perception. He’d heard how bad it was—how much pain was involved. It was the only way but he hated himself in that instant for putting her through the process. Little comfort came from the knowledge that the second mark wasn’t as intense, because he knew the third and final one would be.

Would she be willing to face the agony a second time? Could he possibly ask her to?

What only lasted for seconds felt like hours, the suffering of his mate more than he could take. The wolf—bastard that he was—had no such guilt as he returned to Emory. The beast was the same yet different, a portion of him now attuned solely to Mary. When she sagged beneath him, no longer fighting, he lifted away and looked at her, making sure there were no outward signs of harm. She opened her eyes—eyes that were dull with pain—and tried to talk.

“Don’t.” He silenced her with a kiss. “Rest.”

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled. “Why?”

“We’ll talk soon. For now, I want you to sleep.”

She didn’t argue when he rearranged the bed, slid her beneath the covers and joined her. Instead she turned toward him, resting her forehead against his chest as he drifted to sleep. He remained like that, holding her close, stroking her hair and sheltering her in his arms.

It had to be done, but there was one thing he could do to make amends. Resting his chin on her head, he started thinking of all the ways he was going to please his mate. He’d make her breakfast in bed, profess his love and show her how much she meant to him.

Starting tomorrow.