In A Wolf's Embrace

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The horrible craving for Matthias's touch had finally eased as the day gave way to night. He forced her into the shower again, chuckling as she leaned against his chest and tried to doze while he bathed her. It was a good thing he still had some strength in his legs, because hers was shot.

She was limp, physically and mentally sated, and sleepier than she could ever remember being in her life. When he finally carried her to the bed and tucked her in close to his chest, a satisfied little sigh left her lips.

Her lips smoothed over the curved bar, secured at both ends by small silver balls that pierced his nipple. The metal was warm from the warmth of his flesh and reminded her of what he had said about his reasons for getting the piercings. To remind him of his freedom, his individuality. He was pierced and tattooed, scarred inside and out, and he was the most beautiful creation on the face of the earth, as far as she was concerned.

The thin scar that ran from his brow, across his eyelid, and halfway down his cheek was barely noticeable to her, though she ached often at the thought of the pain he must have felt when he was wounded.

He was a bad boy. There was no doubt about that. Wicked, carnal, intense, and arrogant. But when he held her, his arms were gentle, his hands tender as he soothed her closer to sleep.

"My dad would like you." She yawned as she snuggled closer to him. "My brothers would, too."

She felt his hand still on her back where he had been stroking her spine.

"Do you think they would?" His voice might sound unconcerned, but Grace knew him now, and she knew that strained edge to his tone was one of hope.

"I know they would." She was confident of it.

"Why would they like me?" he asked her. "I don't look like any man's vision of a son-in-law, Grace." Stark, almost bleak, his regret washed over her, forcing her to blink tears from her eyes.

"You're strong, honest. You stare people in the eye when you speak to them, and I love you. Trust me, Dad won't be able to resist you. And of course, Mom is just going to be in heaven. She'll think you need fattened up. She'll bake you homemade pies and bread and spoil you every chance she gets with her best dishes."

"Why would she do that?" Confusion lingered in his tone.

Grace moved her head back, staring up at him in the dark. "Because she'll love you, Matthias. That's what mothers do. My brothers will teach you how to play touch football, and their wives will ogle your ass when they aren't looking. My sisters-in-law are exceptionally intelligent. They know a fine male form when they see one."

Matthias stared down at her, frowning. She was talking as though his acceptance within her family was a done deal, without him having to make concessions or scrape for it. That couldn't be true. Nothing had ever come so easily to him. He had to fight for everything. It was accepted.

"Your father and your brothers will see me for what I am, Grace," he warned her, hating that fact. "They'll want you to choose another man. Accept that now."

He felt her surprise, then her amusement at the soft laugh that wrapped around him. "Oh, Matthias, you just don't understand families," she whispered into the darkness. "Daddy will take one look at you, and he'll take you out to his shed where he tried to fool us into believing he's building something. He'll give you a beer and interrogate you for hours as he puts you to work sanding this or that, or using a hammer. That's his form of acceptance. Trust me. He's going to love you."

"I don't know how to sand or hammer." For the first time in his life Matthias wondered if he was feeling an edge of fear.

"My brothers will follow along, of course," she informed him, as he felt a curl of trepidation. "They'll grin and smirk, as Daddy questions you, throw out a few questions of their own, then grab the football and rescue you."

"I don't know how to play football." He cleared his throat nervously.

"That's okay, they don't either," she assured him drowsily, confusing him further. "And while the neighborhood guys gather around in the back lot to teach you how not to play football, Mom will be cooking up a storm, and me and the sisters-in-law will be admiring your manly butt and broad shoulders. But don't wear leather to plan football in. You need jeans."

"I always wear leather." It was slicker, harder to grip. It didn't make as much sound when one moved, and he had grown accustomed to it.

"You wear jeans to meet Mom and Dad, so you can play ball with the boys." She yawned again, as though compliance with her little demands were a foregone conclusion. "And remember, Mom makes the best cherry pie in the world. And she still makes homemade vanilla ice cream. You'll love it."

He was certain he would, but that wasn't the point.

"Grace, don't get your hopes up," he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of her head, as his eyes closed in despair.

She wasn't like him, she had a family, interaction, a life outside of him. He only had her.

"You'll see." She sighed, her body relaxing against him. "You'll see, my family is going to love you."

Her father and brothers would likely warn him away from her with a weapon. When that didn't work, they would complain to the Bureau of Breed Affairs. When that didn't work, they would attempt to turn Grace against him.

He hadn't considered this, the reaction of her family. Hell, he hadn't considered her family at all, and that had been a mistake. He could hear her love for them in her voice. They were important to her. She would hate losing them. She would hate him, if she lost them because she was bound to him by the mating heat.

Matthias could feel sweat beading on his brow. What the hell would he do when that happened? Grace didn't know, she had no concept of how important she was to him. She was his life. She was every dream he had ever dreamed in the hell of the labs. And after his release, the thought of the woman who would eventually fill his life had been his every hope for the future. The first time he had seen her, he had known she would carry his soul through eternity. Life or death, it wouldn't matter, he belonged to Grace Anderson.

And she belonged to her family.

There had to be a way to ensure her family's compliance, he thought. He had money. He could make certain they had no legal difficulties. He could kill their enemies.

No, no killing. Grace wouldn't like that. Okay, he could make their enemies wish they were dead. He had a few resources he could draw on. Men understood such matters. At least, the non-Breed men he knew understood such matters. Were father's and brothers somehow different?

Surely they couldn't be. They were still men. He might not be good enough for Grace, but he could find a way to ensure that they didn't hurt her by turning their backs on her when she refused to toss him free of her life, like she should the mutt he was certain they would believe he was.

He resumed stroking her back, using just his fingertips, relishing the feel of her satiny flesh. He knew she longed to live closer to her parents. He could buy her a home near them, that would surely earn him a few good points.

Damn. He would have to make plans to deal with this one. Research her family before he went to meet them. He would have to research them extensively. Perhaps he'd get lucky, and if worse came to worse, he could find something to hold over their heads to ensure that Grace wasn't hurt.

Because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they would want him out of her life. He was a Breed. Part animal. He wasn't a man, he was a creation. A freak of science. No man who loved his daughter would want such a mate for her. Hell, he wouldn't want it for his own daughter, why would her father want such a thing?

And he was a killer. Or, he had been a killer.

A smile quirked at the corners of his lips. He had a feeling that before it was over with, many of his habits would be changing. But, that was okay. He was looking forward to it. She was soft and gentle, and as long as he could forestall the problems he knew would come with her family, then he could ensure she stayed soft and gentle with him.

Losing her would kill him, he knew that. Even without the mating heat, his soul was already bound to her in a way that he knew he would never be free of.

He kissed her head, loving the feel of her against his chest, a delicate weight that warmed him to his core.

He would figure out this family thing, for her. He wasn't so certain about the football, though. He had never touched a football in his life, though he had watched other Breeds attempting to learn during his stay on Wolf Mountain in Colorado.

Dealing with her family's hatred of him would be a small price to pay to have her in his life. He would pretend not to notice it, make himself as unobtrusive as possible, and should they need any help in anything, he would take care of the matter.

He nodded with a barely discernible movement. That should work. And if worse came to worse… he sighed. If worse came to worse, he would deal with it. She was worth it to him.

"I love you, Grace," he whispered against her hair.

He loved her laughter, her smile. The way her nose wrinkled when he teased her, the way her ears twitched when he kissed them.

She shifted against him as though trying to burrow deeper into his chest, and he let a smile tilt his lips and gathered her closer to him. His arms surrounded her, his head bent over hers, and he let her legs tangle with his.

His body was now as bound by her as his soul was. Silken limbs encased him, and soft breaths fell against his chest.

For the first time in his life, Matthias closed his eyes and slept while a woman lay tangled with his own body. He had never before been able to relax with a lover. But damn if he could help it. She had worn him out. She was as enthusiastic in their sex play as she was at everything else she did. Maybe a bit more so, he thought, as he remembered her nails raking his back and her demands for harder, faster, now, echoing in his head.

Yeah, definitely more enthusiastic in their love play was his last, distant thought as breathed out in exhaustion and let sleep throw its final web across his senses.