CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Ilike it,” said Quinley, taking in the spacious room.

Though the party wasn’t yet finished, they’d left the Tavern once midnight hit. Isaiah had brought her straight to his house and given her a tour … which had ended right here in the master bedroom. And she knew why; knew he’d saved this for last because his intention was that they wouldn’t leave it for a while.

Quinley swallowed, nervous in a kind of … delicious way. She was about to be claimed, and she just knew he’d take her, dominate her, in a way no other male had. And she had not one intention of fighting his dominance.

For Quinley, the idea of taking control in bed was a little off-putting. She wanted a dominant male who’d take the lead. It wasn’t about kink or sex games, it was just part of her nature. She couldn’t change it—nor did she care to—any more than he could alter how it was ingrained in him to lead, protect, shelter, and assume control. It just was.

Many humans had such a skewed perception of submission. Especially when it applied to outside of sex, as if they believed it weak to tend to the needs of another. She’d never really understood that. Was it not a good thing to take care of those who mattered? It wasn’t as if the situation was unbalanced—he’d provide what she needed, and vice versa.

“If there’s anything you want to change, anything you want to add, go for it,” Isaiah invited, standing a few feet away. “It’s your home now, too.”

Liking the earthy color schemes that run throughout the place, she wouldn’t go as far as to paint anything or haul in new furniture. But she’d put her own stamp on the place—it was what shifters did to claim their territory.

“That dresser is new and empty,” he added, gesturing at it. “And one side of the closet is now clear.”

“Thank you.” She cast a look at the unused vanity dresser. “That’s new as well?” Because if he’d originally bought it for a different female, Quinley would replace it.

“Yes,” he replied. “I figured you might need it.”

“You’re good at this mate-thing.”

Isaiah’s mouth hitched up. “Pleased to hear it.”

He stalked to her, every step unrushed and deliberate, making her pulse hiccup. And then he was right there,crossing over into her personal space without hesitation. His scent bounded into her and lured her cat closer.

Sexual tension arced between them, muggy and crackly. It made her stomach clench and her blood heat.

Isaiah gripped her jaw. “This face …” He dragged a blatantly proprietary gaze over her facial features, cataloguing each one. Male appreciation burned in his eyes. “It’s probably good that Havana got in the way of us being alone here earlier.”

“Why?”

“Because I would have fucked you for sure, and I want the first time I take you to be the same time I claim you as mine.” Isaiah watched as need rose up in her gaze and swallowed her pupils. His body stirred and tightened in response.

He wanted to take her. Now. Hard. But before they got to that … “Let’s make sure we’re on the same page, I don’t want any misunderstandings between us. My guess would be that, as a submissive shifter, you don’t want to lead in the bedroom.”

“Holds no appeal for me.”

“All right.” Releasing her jaw, he burrowed his hand in her hair, loving the silky feel of the thick mass. “In sexual contexts, I like to lead. The thing is … it won’t be a case where I just give you orders to follow. Sometimes, there’ll be no orders. I’ll just come to you wherever you are, bend you over something, and take you right there.”

Heat flared in her gaze, and the glimmer of her cat’s eyes flickered behind her own. He liked that he had the animal’s full attention as well as hers.

His own cat stayed back, moodily observing; a non-participant. He knew what Isaiah intended, and he was angry that Isaiah would think to brand a female who wasn’t their fated mate.

“Consent is important,” Isaiah went on, gently rubbing strands of her hair between the pads of his fingers. “I need to know I have it; that when we’re here in this house, there is no need for me to request permission because it’s already been granted. This is our space where, in terms of anything sexual, I lead and you follow. But if you ever say no, then it doesn’t happen. Simple. That’s all you ever have to say: No.”

“But you won’t ask, you’ll just take,” she understood.

“Only if you give me that consent here and now. You don’t have to, Quinley. We can wait; give it time. There’s no pressure. My ultimate goal is to have it eventually.”

She licked her lower lip, her eyes diving deep into his; watching and searching. “You have it now.”

His hardening cock twitched. “You’re sure? You understand what that will mean for you? That no matter where in the house you are, no matter what you’re doing, no matter if you’re asleep or awake, you’re my toy at all times? A treasured toy. One I’d never hurt or misuse. But one that will be there for me to fuck whenever I want it.”

“I understand,” she rasped.

“Can I trust that you will always speak up if you’re not down for whatever is happening? You’re a pleaser by nature, I get that. But it would never please me to realize you’re not enjoying what’s happening. I would sense it. I would know. I would feel like a bag of shit and, worse, so would you. My wants don’t come before your needs, you understand?”

“I’m not someone who’d fail to speak up. If I don’t like something or I’m just not feeling in the mood or whatever, I’ll tell you.”

Reassured, he nodded. “To be clear, you have the same permission where I’m concerned. Don’t feel you ever need to ask to speak or touch me or anything else—I’m looking for you to give up control, not be a mindless participant. You want to struggle, struggle. You want to be passive, be passive. You want to make your own demands, make your own demands. Do whatever you want … unless or until I tell you otherwise.”

“Are we done talking now?” she asked, clearly eager to move things along.

That made him smile. “Not quite. I know some shifters in our situation wait until a bond forms before they brand each other. I get it. Brands are permanent. But to wait would be to start off this mating with doubts. I don’t want to do that.”

Also, putting that mark on her would be the only way to make his cat consider her his. “I want to brand you tonight, mark you as mine. I want you to do the same to me. But if you’re not ready for that, I’ll understand.”

She swallowed. “I want us to do it tonight. I don’t feel a need to wait.”

Satisfaction flamed in his belly. “Good.” He snaked his hand around her throat, taking a firm grip of it, power flooding his veins. He could do whatever he wanted to her. The knowledge of that wasn’t merely a thrill, it was liberating. He could be himself. Wholly himself.

This extent of power wasn’t something he’d had before. No dominant would give him that level of control—it just wasn’t in their makeup. He got it. Because it wasn’t in his.

But it was in Quinley’s, and he fucking loved that.

Dipping his head, he tipped up her own and caught her bottom lip between his teeth; gave it a demanding tug. “Open.” She parted her lips, and he delved right in. Licked into her mouth. Took her taste inside him, let it mark him.

He kept the kiss soft, lazy, and sensual. Fluid as liquid.

As she rose on her tiptoes for more, he flicked the tip of her canine with his tongue to stir up her cat, wanting her raring to bite. Quinley’s lavender-and-vanilla scent took on a feral note; telling him her animal was very near the surface. It snagged his cat’s attention.

Isaiah broke the kiss, drinking in the need-drunk look on her face. “Now”—he fingered the soft material of her jumpsuit—“take it off.”

Quinley blinked, pulled out of her daze by the punch of dominance in his voice. She watched as he backed up a step and folded his arms, his expression molded into a mask of absolute authority. Her mindset shifted that easily—she took a mental step back, let her brain power down, and focused on only him as she lowered the side-zipper of her jumpsuit.

His gaze burned with approval. “Good girl.”

Excitement tumbling in her belly, she peeled down the suit and let it puddle at her feet. Her bra went next, then her panties. His gaze tracked her every move, his focus steady and unshifting. Once she’d kicked off her heels, she used her foot to slide the pile aside.

She looked up at him … and immediately became immobilized by the dangerous predatory heat that gleamed in his gaze. Sparks of tension prickled the air and skipped along her bare skin. She’d never felt more exposed, naked, or aware of herself.

He began to circle her, reaching out to let the pads of his fingers idly trace, press, glide, and tease. His touch was light but transmitted pure avarice and male ownership.

“So much to play with.” There was more grit in his voice than usual, turning it throaty. “You are beautiful, do you know that?” A distracted question. He was busy shaping and palming her ass.

A shaky breath shuddered out of her. Already she was damp, anticipation winding her tight and gnawing at her patience.

Still behind her, he suckled on the crook of her neck. “I think I’ll put my claiming brand right here. You’re going to wear it with pride, just as I will yours.”

“Isaiah.” It was a plea.

“You never have to beg me, Quinley,” he assured her. “I won’t ever ask that of you. I want you to trust that I’ll give you what you need … even though I might not give it to you straight away.”

Again, he circled her. This time, he didn’t only explore with his fingers. He sucked on a nipple. Drew his teeth over the other. Nipped at her shoulder. Scored his blunt nails down her back. Briefly slipped a finger between her slick folds.

Basically, he teased her body into a state of such agonized suspension that her legs trembled. She couldn’t be sure her knees wouldn’t give out on her.

Finally, Isaiah came to stand before her once more. His arresting gaze held hers as he deftly undid the fly of his slacks and backed her toward the bed. He lowered his face closer to hers, pausing with his mouth mere inches from her own. “Get me wet.”

She looked down to see his cock was now free, jutting upward. It was long and full. Thicker than she was used to.

Quinley sat on the bed and curled her fingers around the base of his cock. Warm and hard, it pulsed in her grip. She took him into her mouth and licked around his shaft.

“Eyes up, Quinley.”

She lifted her gaze just as he flicked open the top button of his shirt. He didn’t once break eye-contact as he tackled the buttons, and she never once stopped sucking him in and out of her mouth. She kept the suction tight, took him deep, and—noting he liked it—deliberately let the head bump the back of her throat again and again.

Finally, Isaiah shed his shirt and dumped it on her pile of clothes. Damn, his body was just sheer male strength. Flat abs, defined muscle, impressive ink.

His fingers burrowed into her hair gently. So gently. And then they grabbed a tight fistful of it and tugged. “Up.”

Inwardly wincing at the sting to her scalp, she rose to her feet.

His eyes moved over her face, pure male greed simmering there. “Another time, I’m going to fuck this face.” He let go of her hair. “And that pretty throat.” He slowly twirled his finger, his expression one of expectation.

She turned to face the bed. He gripped her hips and—with an easy strength that made her toes curl—propped her onto her knees on the mattress. A hand landed between her shoulder blades and pressed down, bending her over.

And then two fingers plunged deep.

She sucked in a breath as he scissored them. He muttered what sounded like “Tight” and then began pumping his fingers, his mouth trailing suckling kisses up and down her spine. His fingers abruptly thrusted faster, deeper, harder.

And then disappeared.

“First time I clocked your ass,” he began, wedging the fat tip of his cock inside her, “I imagined holding it tight while I fucked in and out of you.” He grabbed two fistfuls of her ass, his fingertips digging in hard. “So that’s what I’m gonna do.” His hips sharply lurched forward, ramming his dick balls-deep.

She didn’t have time to really feel the sharp burn that streaked up her inner walls, or to process how uncomfortably full she felt. Because then he was moving. Thrusting. All that power he kept contained quite simply spilled out.

Clenching his jaw, Isaiah kept punching his cock deep at an insanely savage pace. She was almost unbearably tight, and so fucking hot it near scalded him; made him need more.

So he took more. Rammed into her rougher and faster, filling the room with the sound of flesh slapping flesh.

She was small and slight with perfect curves. Like a living, breathing sex doll. Easy to lift and position her exactly as he wanted her. There was something intoxicating about that.

Power sang in his veins. She’d done that. Given him that. Gifted it to him.

Quinley didn’t fully trust him yet—he saw that, wouldn’t expect anything different. But she’d still surrendered control to him; had still agreed for them to brand each other here and now.

Even though she’d suffered a terrible betrayal, she wasn’t holding back from him, she had the guts to put herself out there. Isaiah admired and respected the hell out of it. Out of her.

Looking at the faint score marks he’d put on her back earlier, he felt his balls tingle. Upping his pace a notch, he dug his fingers harder into the globes of her ass. His grip was going to leave bruises and they both knew it. But she didn’t ask him to ease up, didn’t complain, let him use her as he pleased.

He was fucking high on the thrill of it. So high that his release was almost on him.

Curling over her, he planted one fist on the bed beside her head and clamped his other hand on her nape. “Who’s in you? My name. Say it.” He needed to feel that she knew exactly who was about to claim her.

“Isaiah.” It was a trembly rasp that licked up his shaft.

A growl rumbling in his chest, he sank his teeth deep into the crook of her neck. Skin broke, blood pooled—the taste tore a feral snarl out of him. He licked and sucked at the brand. “You’re mine now.”

A gasp flew out of Quinley as he pulled out, flipped her over, and slammed back inside. Jesus Christ.

An intemperate need thrashed in his eyes. “Bite,” he said, the sound so guttural it was barely human.

He began frantically drilling his cock into her yet again, no restraint, no mercy. The pleasure was spiced by the rhythmic sting of the throbbing mark on her neck.

Clinging tight to his back, she reared up and clamped her teeth around his shoulder, driving them down deep until she tasted blood.

“Fuck.” He heaved his hips forward faster and faster, harder and harder, as she sucked on the brand. “Come, Quinley.”

The build-up of tension that had been bubbling inside her finally boiled over. A hot, spinetingling supernova wave of pleasure crashed into her and ripped through her body.

She unlocked her teeth from his skin as a raspy scream tore out of her throat, her inner muscles squeezing and rippling around his cock; whips of hot come bursting out of him.

The strength vanished from her body, rendering her limp. Floating in a sea of bliss, she was barely aware of him lazily gliding his dick forward and backward; his every breath fanning the fresh bite on her neck.

Claimed. She was claimed. And that she’d been able to claim Isaiah in return, that he’d wanted what someone else had once flung back in her face, settled something inside both her and her cat—possibly that part of them that had felt so lost and alone for years.

All that was missing now was an imprint bond.

Finally, he raised his head. “Stay,” he said, his face all soft and languid.

“Okay,” she murmured.

He withdrew his softening cock, edged off the bed, and then left the room. He returned moments later with a damp cloth and cleaned her up, ignoring her offer to take over. Once done, he threw the cloth in the laundry basket and arched a brow. “You like sleeping naked or not?”

“Not. There’s a long tee in my—”

“You like wearing tees for bed, you can wear one of mine.” He snatched one from his dresser and tossed it to her.

Isaiah watched as she sat up and slipped it on. He felt his lips twitch. The tee dwarfed her, but she looked fucking cute in it. There was something far too satisfying about knowing his scent was now all over her.

He unconsciously dropped his gaze to the bite on her neck. It was red but no longer bleeding. It would heal, but the imprint of it would remain. A thought that comforted him more than he’d expected.

His cat had a mixed reaction to the sight of the mark. He was angry that Isaiah had branded her, but he was unable to dismiss its significance. The feline really saw her now; registered every detail, acknowledged her as under its protection.

Well, it was a start.

After flicking back the covers and settling her into bed, Isaiah lay beside her. He could sense that she was exhausted—it had been a pivotal day for her, and the emotional weight of that would have tired her out. But he couldn’t let her drift off just yet.

Positioning himself on his side facing her, he gave her hip a little squeeze. “I want us to have one more talk, then you can sleep.”

She blinked hard and stared up at him, giving him her full attention just like that.

“You and me … if we want to build something, we need to be forthcoming—starting now.”

She nodded in agreement.

“This might be an arranged mating, but that makes it no less real. I don’t expect you to trust me so soon—that can’t be given, it has to be earned. But you can trust me. You can be sure that if you ever need me, I’m there. That if something’s wrong, I’ll do my best to fix it.”

Caution flickered in her eyes. She made him think of a wounded animal who was hesitant to invest her full trust in someone. Who wouldn’t be, when the person whose loyalty to you should have been absolute had let you down in every way?

“Your oldest sister has been your rock a long time,” he went on. “You’re used to turning to her, and I get that you won’t naturally stop doing that. But know I’m a person you can rely on above all others. You’re my priority.”

“As you’re mine,” she said, her voice low.

He felt his lips tip up. “You can come to me about anything, day or night. If something’s playing on your mind, run it by me. If you’re unhappy about something, tell me. If you’re sad or missing your family or feeling any regrets, say so. We can’t get past something if we don’t speak of it.”

“Communication is important,” she agreed. “Patience, too. We’ll be learning each other’s hot buttons, pet peeves, etc. on the fly. We’re both gonna need some room to mess up in the beginning or there’ll be unnecessary arguments.”

“And let me state here and now that I don’t consider you second best. It would be easy for both of us to worry that we’re not the other’s real choice. That isn’t true. I chose you. You chose me. That’s it now. It’s done.”

The finality in that statement soothed a jagged concern in Quinley that she hadn’t realized was there. But of course it was there—she should have expected it. They’d both been denied the opportunity to bond with their true mate, but their situations were different. She knew hers would never want her, whereas he would live with the knowledge that his might have wanted him if things were different.

“You never have to worry you’re playing second fiddle for me either,” she assured him. “For me, entering this mating was never about finding a replacement, it was about moving all the way forward. I guess it was easier for me than it has been for you.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Your TM doesn’t know you exist. Mine does. He deliberately picked someone else over me; hurt me and my cat in a way we can’t forgive. It wasn’t like that for you.”

His brow creased slightly. “That doesn’t mean I’ll get caught up in what-ifs, Quinley. I would have had no business claiming you or anyone else if my head wasn’t on straight.”

“But your cat isn’t mentally where you’re at,” she said, recalling the messages he’d sent her through the site, explaining his situation.

“No, he’s not. Not yet. In time, that’ll change.”

A shifter’s inner animal craved a mate so much more than their human half did, so it was little wonder that his cat hadn’t yet made his peace with everything. Even as she understood, it did sting that the feline wasn’t invested in the mating. It felt too much like a rejection, and she’d had enough of those. But … “I can be patient. I understand his pain.”

At least she knew that Isaiah was fully invested. She really wanted to place all her trust in him; craved the security he offered, just as her cat did. They’d been without it for so long. They needed to feel they could rely on him in a way they’d never been able to rely on another.

And that, she thought, was a two-way thing. In his own way, he’d need to rely on her. And Quinley was determined that she’d give this mating her all. She’d pour into it everything she’d needed to hold back from Zaire, even as it terrified her a little that she’d be putting so much of herself out there.

“Your TM … what’s his name?” Isaiah asked.

“Zaire. Why?”

“Because as of this moment, I’m not going to refer to him as your true mate anymore. I claimed you. The word ‘mate’ will never be applied to him again where you’re concerned, not even as a reference to what fate intended him to be for you.”

Hmm, she liked that. As did her cat. “Fair enough.” She bit her lip. “What’s her name?”

“Lucinda.”

“Pretty.”

“I like yours better. And mine is way better than Zaire.”

Quinley chuckled into the kiss he slapped on her mouth.

He slid his hand from her hip to the small of her back and drew her closer. “Now sleep.”

“’Kay.” Feeling snug and warm and safer than she had in a long time, Quinley let her eyes close.