31. Connor O’Doyle

Chapter 31

Connor O’Doyle

Paw-sitively charming .

“There’s no easy way for me to tell you this, but I feel the need to confess,” I say to her, wondering if she’s going to think me sweet, or call me out for being a weird control freak.

Damp air wraps around us with each step, the cellar cold and earthy smelling as we make our way to the back of the castle and toward the hidden exit. Our feet make hardly a sound against the smooth stone floors, and there is no real fear of discovery this late at night, especially if we take this exit. I do wish it didn’t take so bloody long to get there.

I make a mental note to tell Vlad I’m renovating again, no matter what the asshole says. I would’ve never wanted the changes for myself, but somehow the idea of Whitley having to sneak across the castle to get outdoors for days on end is repulsive to me. I turn to look at her, taking in her wide brown eyes that flash yellow in the darkness.

“Confess what?” Her tone is untrusting.

I glance down and notice she’s not limping or anything drastic, and it appears her pain has subsided, at least for the moment. Maybe even just a walk made her feel better?

The thought of her going through pain because of me tears at me on the inside. If she were to experience even a small bit of what I’ve gone through over all these years, I couldn’t live with myself. Up until now, she hasn’t seemed to experience anything like the agony I was subjected to.

“I did a deep dive on all things menstrual cycles.”

She snorts, and amusement spreads across her expression. “You did what now?”

My cheeks heat, but I choose to soldier on and confess all.

“You heard me. I now know all the lady secrets, like hot baths, the best painkillers, and the effectiveness of butt rubs. I’m quite looking forward to that last one, to be honest,” I admit, and the corners of her lips twitch, making me want to kiss her. “I have an arsenal of products to soothe all your aches and pains packed in the study. I also may have gone through your things again to see what you do or don’t like.”

I have no shame in admitting that. It’s not like she doesn’t know I’ve done it before, since I was caught red-handed with one of her toys.

“You did that for me?”

She blinks like a confused owl, as I pull the lever to swing open the castle wall, and the sounds of crickets and the night greet us.

My brow furrows, and it dawns that her ex probably never took care of her. Within the first minute of googling anything menstruation related, the consensus in most chats is that women do not feel they receive adequate care from their partner during that time of the month. In fact, most men tend to avoid their partners altogether. Idiots, the lot of them.

“Because I care for you and your pussy, obviously.” I gesture for her to go ahead of me, and we make our way outside.

Her mouth goes up into a grin at that as her chocolate mane of hair shakes.

It’s the truth, and much easier to say than: “I’m infatuated with you and need to take care of you on a deeply instinctual level.” I have never felt this way about anyone else in my life, and it’s as though my wolf side is leading me here.

A large lake sits hidden behind the foliage, creating the perfect spot for her to try out her new abilities and burn off all the pastries and chocolate I packed for her. I hope she likes the strawberry-and-cream donut, lemon tart, and raspberry scones I bought, among other sweets. I don’t know what she likes, but I’m hoping to learn. Just no fucking cupcakes.

Whitley Whitt

“You said you went snooping.” I speak coyly as we walk, and I have to admit the exercise is helping to keep my mind off everything else. “Did you read one of my books?”

If he did... I might expire. I don’t need him learning about my paranormal spicy books. I have a feeling Connor will do anything in his power to tease me relentlessly over them.

I breathe in the chilled air and relax into the sounds of the insects chirping around us while I follow along through the short grass.

I’ve given up trying to figure out what his angle is with all of this, and there really is no telling what will come out of his mouth next. What man researches the menstrual cycle? And how sad is it that it’s probably the sweetest thing a man has ever done for me? He has to have read a romance novel.

“No, why?” he calls back to me, dashing my theory.

“Just wondering,” I grumble.

“I probably should read one, just to see what all the fuss is about.” Humor lights his blue eyes, and he leans forward with the picnic basket swinging at his side. “Which is your favorite book?”

He pauses and waits until I reach his side before he resumes walking again.

I glance up at him and shove my hands into the pockets of my robe, catching the smell of wildflowers on the breeze, and the soft trickle of water like a bubbling brook greets my ears. There’s also a tangle of sweetness coming from the basket and I’m practically drooling for it.

It still amazes me how sharp my senses have become.

“That’s a hard question, almost like asking what your favorite song is, really,” I tell him, unable to come up with one book name when I have so many favorites. “Each book makes you feel something different.”

“Hmm. Well what’s your go-to genre then?”

I think on it a moment and one of the first books I read pops into my head, one about a villain who ends up getting the girl. “Don’t laugh, but historical novels are my bread and butter.”

His shoulder grazes mine, and his touch soothes me somehow. I brush against his shoulder again on purpose, and yellow flashes in his eyes, that same sensation washing over me. The aches in my stomach soften, my heart relaxes, and my shoulders loosen.

I sigh out a breath of relief just as his eyes change again, a little longer than before. He feels it too.

“Is this normal?” I ask. “Is it because of the mate bond?”

“I don’t know. I think so.” His shoulders stiffen and he stops walking. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s nice. I just don’t know what it all means yet, and it’s still a lot to process.”

“Historical books, eh?” he eventually asks again as we walk down a winding path.

Connor is all calm, cool, and collected, and inwardly, I’m beginning to freak out a bit. A witch says you’re starting your period like she’s reading from a crystal ball, and now I’m having the best and worst period of my life.

A cramp starts in my side, but I ignore it. Cramps I can handle, falling for this man? Not so much.

“Come now, talking about your favorite books can’t be that hard, can it?” He chuckles, and I realize I still haven’t answered him, locked in my own thoughts.

He makes me want to grab hold with both hands and not let go, but it’s all so sudden, I can practically feel my hormones going haywire. My emotions are a roller coaster, worse than a wooden Screaming Eagle rollercoaster on steroids. I’m also worried that what’s happened to me has taken control and is making me think irrationally—I want how I’m feeling to be the real me and not some weird “wolf howling” thing.

“Devil in Winter, by Lisa Kleypas.” I say, trying to remember the main plot of the story while I shove down my emotions. Embarrassment heats my cheeks at the spice in it. “Do you read?”

The impression I get from him is that if he does read, it’s probably nothing fiction.

“Every day.” He smirks. “Watch your step.”

The basket on his arm swings wildly, almost smacking me in the shoulder when he comes to a stop, but then I see why. The hedgerow stops and so does the stone pathway. He holds out a hand and I take it.

“Where are you taking me? I’m starting to think you’re pulling me far enough away from the castle that no one will hear my screams.”

“Read that in one of your books, did you? Don’t worry, I would only ever murder your pussy.” His tone says he’s completely serious.

My cheeks warm again. “No, I’m not into dark romance, thank you very much, but I have a friend back home who eats it up like a feral book goblin.”

My lips twitch into a grin as I think about Josephine and vaguely wonder if she and her husband are getting along okay.

It’s strange how after a divorce you sort of lose the friends you shared, but I guess sometimes that’s for the best. If I had to sit around witnessing Josie’s happy marriage every day, I would have lost it, and I would have never met Connor.

My stomach dips and sadness wells inside me at the thought of never crossing paths with this man. I stare at his T-shirt-covered back and marvel at how not that long ago I almost hated him. From that first night on, I knew he didn’t like me. Or I suppose he did, and he just had a really fucked-up way of showing it. And now… I didn’t know this level of romance existed.

We walk by a patch of thicket so dense you can’t see the castle, and a large lake comes into view.

Frogs croak loudly, and one hops in the distance from a large lily pad, making an audible splash and rippling the placid lake. Ruins sit on a small hill in the distance, with a short bridge crossing the water and hiding part of the crescent moon.

“Oh wow,” I mutter, taking in the sloping beach and giant lily pads on one side. My gaze snags on a picturesque willow tree growing from the bank in the distance, its branches sweeping into the still lake, and a sense of calm washes over me. “It’s beautiful.”

“I come here a lot to run—as my shifted self.”

“Really?” My eyebrows go up at that.

How is it possible that no one ever sighted him? I mean, surely someone would notice a big-ass wolf running through a forest, right?

He points past the bridge. “There is nothing but woods for miles around. It’s a patch of forest just perfect for me.” The corner of his lip lifts wryly. “Well, now us . The castle is so high and the forest is dense enough in spring we can’t be seen from the windows. Outside the property, the other side is national forest. We have the run of the land if you want.”

He pivots and points behind me at the trees and I turn to see he’s right. I can barely make out the castle at all.

My tummy rumbles, and I glance at the wicker basket.

“I packed some meats and cheeses for you, and plenty of desserts.” His voice rumbles, and suddenly, I’m living a fantasy.

A small red blanket emerges from the basket, and he splays it across the ground and gestures for me to sit.

As soon as I’m comfortable, Connor pushes a small plate into my hand, then unwraps a platter that has a little bit of everything on it and places it down on the blanket. I can tell he put in a lot of care into what’s here, and that he wants to figure out what I do and don’t like. A happy smile pulls at my lips as I breathe in the fragrant scents so rich and savory. This is about to be the best meal of my life—I just know it.

“Thank you.”

I meet his gaze shyly as he grabs some foods of his own and settles in to eat. He takes a hefty bite of roast beef as I place a piece of the lemon tart onto my plate to eat neatly.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so good,” I say, my words muffled around my first bite. My eyes nearly roll to the back of my head at how good it tastes.

“Mmhm, so is the ham,” he remarks as he takes a slice.

The night sounds cascade across our senses as the light, balmy breeze swirls around where we’re sitting. Nighttime is now like a new symphony for my ears. I can hear everything from the smallest hum of a dragonfly up past its bedtime to the soft trills of the caddisflies rubbing their legs together. It’s amazing and humbling at the same time.

“Finish eating, and then we can go play.” That smirk of his makes an appearance, but this time it only causes butterflies in my stomach.

“Play?” I ask.

“They say the minute you stop playing, you start aging—or something along those lines.”

I raise my brows when he stands and starts pulling his shirt off. I can’t help biting my lip when his six-pack comes into view. He slips his shoes off and starts unbuttoning his pants, and my abdomen clenches for a whole new reason, especially when I see he’s not wearing any boxers.

“Hurry up, cupcake, you’re going to love the woods.”

I find myself living yet another fantasy.

He turns, his bare ass on full display, and wades into the pretty lake. Slack-jawed and drooling, I quickly fish out a scone from the basket and take a bite. Anything to stop where my thoughts are going.

But, my god, is he ever good looking.

Buttery goodness explodes in my mouth, distracting me from his nakedness, and I can barely contain my moan.

“Eat your fill and then get in here.” He leans back and lets the water overtake him.

“In the lake?” I ask, fluttering my eyelashes when his head surfaces above the water again. “What if a sea serpent drags me under again?”

“Yes, in the fucking lake, woman.” He pushes the wet hair away from his face and yellow sparks in his gaze. “And that won’t ever be happening again.”

I hold back a smile from needling him, and break off a hunk of cheese to eat, quickly nabbing a few bites of tart again before licking my fingers clean. I must admit, my heart is accelerating faster than I’m used to, and I can feel energy simmering. It’s like I’ve had a dozen cups of coffee just from a few bites of sweets, and now I understand why he stopped me from eating them in the castle.

“Any night now,” he says in a sing-song voice, watching me as he stands waist deep in the pool of water. “I’m trying to be romantic here, and you’re bloody ruining it.”

Water droplets glisten on his warm-colored skin and chest hair. He rubs at his wet beard and our gazes meet. He smirks and water fans out every which way as he waves me to come to him with both hands.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming,” I tell him, unable to stop the swell of butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

Swimming in the dark after a picnic under the stars. As if I could really say “no” to that?

I get to my feet and undo my robe, letting it fall to the ground before taking off my shirt and leggings, then toeing out of my sneakers and socks. My bra and panties come off next, and I step into the cool water, pausing when it reaches just above the tops of my feet.

A frog croaks loudly, reminding me that I’m outside, at night, on a picnic with this beautiful man. A sense of weightlessness strikes my heart, and my tummy suddenly feels like dancing champagne bubbles have joined the butterflies.

Doyle huffs and gives me a look that says he’s not impressed.

I wade in the water cautiously, expecting it to be brisk, but the cool temperature is actually gentle and relaxing.

“Could you be any slower?” Connor gripes.

I roll my eyes at him dramatically and swim toward him.

“Come here and lie down,” he says, and takes me by the waist. “Have you heard of water therapy?”

He cradles me in his arms and dips me in the water, then shifts his grip until I’m held up and floating by my head in his hands. The move makes me feel completely vulnerable, but before nerves can begin to rattle in my ribcage, he bends and kisses my mouth, effectively stealing my anxiety.

Water sloshes in my ears as I wiggle my head side to side in answer, unable to speak with how awestruck I am. The stars overhead, and the feeling of him beneath me, keeping me afloat—I’ve never felt more safe. I can’t help slipping my arms around his neck, bringing him closer, and I try to shift and wrap my legs around his waist.

Like his touch sets me off, arousal blasts through me.

Fur erupts, my claws jutting out, and I attempt to move away so I don’t accidentally hurt him. “I guess I don’t get a full twenty minutes yet before I wolf out,” I say with a laugh, unsure if it’s all the sugar or my pussy throbbing that caused it.

Water swirls as he grabs my furry hand and places it on his bare chest.

Fur covers his body faster than it does mine when he wills it, and his form turns monstrous.

“You don’t have to worry about your claws with me, Whitley.” Then he buries his face into the side of my neck and growls. “You also have no idea how much I’m...”

He trails off with a sigh, but I can feel hardness pressing between us.

I beam a smile at him, feeling pretty and dainty with how easily he can lift me into the air and how he can also accept me in this new form too. We swim around for a while, until my hot skin cools a bit, the water so soothing and tranquil.

“Would you like to go on a run now? It will release some endorphins, and it will make you feel better. If it doesn’t, we will simply go down the list until we find something that does.”

He grabs me and pulls me from the water, tugging me toward the bank. I’m touched that he wouldn’t just leave me to my own devices, and it sends warmth through me.

I flex my arms and twist this way and that, amazed at how different it feels. My skin is dry almost instantly, the water somehow sluicing away. My fur, however, is not. I tilt my head back and stare up at the stars, at the galaxies I can make out as tears well in my eyes from how at peace I am with myself.

“I wanted to show you how different our bodies are in water. Sometimes a cool pool or lake can be soothing, especially during a painful transition. I have spent a lot of time in this lake,” he murmurs, lacing our clawed fingers together.

I stare up into his gaze and become aware that this man actually does cherish me.

One of his large, clawed hands cups my face affectionately, the soft padding of his palm rubbing my snout, and a deep purr rumbles out of my throat. The action sends his tail wagging, and a wolfish grin splits his lips.

Maybe we give each other peace, because I can’t imagine what he’s been through. It’s still hard for me to fathom how old he is, and what any of this means. I keep wanting to pinch myself, but I don’t because I’m still scared my fairytale will be over. That I’ll go to bed and wake up to find none of this is real.

I’m not sure any dream could ever conjure this.

I let go and push the short mane of hair off his face to get a good look at him. The yellow eyes peering back at me are beautiful, turning to molten gold as he stares intently. I glance down at his large wolf-like physique. My fur is light brown and short, like a sandy color or caramel, whereas his is so dark it’s almost black, and his frame is much taller than mine.

He reminds me of the beast from the Disney movie, large and hulking with clawed feet. His size and dark mane make me want to mount him and rub my face in it.

I fight a shiver of arousal just looking at him.

“You look so cool.” My gaze bounces over his thick fur, bushy tail, and bulky shoulders. I know in his human form Connor stands around six feet tall, but like this he is almost seven feet. I let out a wolfish huff, realizing I’ve barely grown. “I don’t really get that much taller, do I?”

His snout goes back and forth as he shakes his head. “No. You’re still soft and feminine.”

The need to run floods me and on impulse I reach up, letting my tongue out to play, and I lick at his cheek. His deep citrus and sandalwood scent hits my nose and I melt a little.

“Catch me if you can,” I sing playfully, before pushing to separate us.

My clawed feet tear at the earth as I run at full speed through the woods. A howl picks up behind me and I yip loudly, calling back to him. We run for what feels like ages, dashing through the trees, and then the real wolves howl in the distance as Connor signals back to them.

Watching him with new eyes, I realize he’s making me feel better. He didn’t hesitate. I see that now. I needed help, and he stepped right in with support and kindness.

He pauses at the base of a large pine tree, and I reach down and snap up a pinecone in my hand. I lob it at him to get his attention and yellow eyes snap to mine as he catches it easily before tossing it back.

“Run,” he says, twisting his arm back to throw the pinecone.

Glee bounces through me, and I turn and rush to catch it as he hurls it at me, elation fizzing in my veins.

My face splits with a happy grin and giggles erupt from my chest as we play, tossing the pinecone back and forth to one another as we run through the woods.

A tiny ever-present well of excitement is in my middle, and I am so grateful to be here—to be with him. If there’s a chance at happiness with this man who is going above and beyond to show me that I’m important to him… I’ve decided I’m going to take it.

We finally slow, both of us panting, and he reverts to his human form. I follow his lead, and I feel so much better after letting everything out. Even my cramps aren’t as bad, feeling more like normal.

“Odette said something about having to run miles each day, so I don’t fur out?” I arch a brow at him.

“That would be because I did—three hundred years ago—but you have much more control than I did. I guess her theory of you having a lycan blood-relative might be correct.”

He hugs me to his bare chest, and I curl into him, content and safe, completely uncaring that I’m naked as a jaybird, as my grandma would say, and dirty to boot.

He buries his face against my throat and grinds his hips against me with a skin-tingling growl. With a raspy tone, he grates, “The next time I chase you through this forest, I really want to fuck you, Whitley.”

His dick is nestled between us, and I bite down on my bottom lip.

“That could be arranged,” I tell him as I try to step back before I get carried away.

He does a double take, as if he can’t believe his good luck, and sweeps me into his arms anyway. I squeal with laughter as his petal-soft lips brush my mouth, chased by the delicious scratchiness of his beard, and I press closer, feeling content and secure.

“You never told me how you were turned,” I say when he sets me back down on my feet, once more trying to distract from the mini-Connor between us.

“It’s not the best of tales, which is why I’ve always been hesitant in sharing it. But since it’s you, I don’t mind talking about it. I was an experiment gone wrong, to hear some tell it, but suffice to say, the Van Helsings did this to me. I was bitten by a werewolf they had experimented on, and it’s their fault I’m this way. That is why they hunted me for it, desperate to seek more answers, and for centuries.”

He says it so smoothly and without thought, as if it’s meaningless, yet my stomach instantly clenches. It’s swiftly followed by a stirring of nausea, but I quickly brush it off. The idea that my great-great-grandmother’s family could do such a thing is ludicrous.

I can’t help digging for more information.

“W-what do you mean by experimented on?” I ask with a lump in my throat.

He laughs, but I don’t hear any humor in it. Connor then starts patting and playing with the back of my hair, as if he’s looking for a distraction. I hate how much it makes my skin tingle even though my tummy feels twisted.

“One of their ancestors was some kind of mad scientist. He captured a male werewolf and began messing with him, trying to figure out how to change him back to human and why a lycan’s bite had turned him.” He sighs as he lifts his gaze to mine, and his eyelids lower to soften the connection. I can’t help how my heart stutters at his words. “The werewolf broke out, and whatever concoctions he’d been given didn’t turn me into a werewolf, but some kind of broken lycan. I almost died—and would have, if it weren’t for Vlad and Odette.”

“Dracula, you mean,” I say, trying to lighten to mood. It’s useless, but Connor does softly chuckle. “How did he help?”

“Basically, by loading my sorry carcass into his carriage, and shouting obscenities at me every time I tried to pass out,” he says with a grin.

I blink at that, trying to understand how anyone could smile at such a situation.

“Ready to head back?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts. “There are still plenty of things on the list, and you’ll need your rest.”

“Sure am,” I say, the smile pulling at my lips completely at odds with the apprehension growing in my sternum.