CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Someone dropped their popcorn all over the patterned carpet, and Frankie winced in sympathy. Waiting in the long queue for the concession counter, she rested her hand on the rope and looked at the pricing boards for the snacks and drinks. The foyer of the movie theater was well lit and cheerful with all the framed posters and cardboard cutouts for new and upcoming releases.

Trick’s front was pressed against her back, and he’d slung one arm over her shoulder so that he could breeze his fingers along her collarbone. He was a little tense, which wasn’t surprising. A group of girls in the line parallel to theirs kept glancing at him with knowing looks, talking quietly to one another about the YouTube video he was featured in. One girl even subtly snapped a picture of him with her cell phone. It was clear that he despised the attention and the heroic image that people had of him. Just remembering the look on his face when a kid in the parking lot outside had pleaded for an autograph made her smile. And now those girls had him tense as a bow.

Feeling her shake with silent laughter, Trick spoke into her ear. “What’s funny?”

“The big, bad enforcer is scared of some giggling teenage girls.”

He nipped her earlobe in punishment for teasing him. “The last set of teenage girls that came asking for an autograph also wanted a photo of me holding each of them just like I’d held the girl on the video. Stop laughing, it’s not funny. It’s whacked.”

“What did you do?”

“Grunted at them and walked away. What else was I going to do?”

“And now you’re snuggling up to me so those girls don’t get any ideas—effectively you’re using me as a shield.”

“I’m snuggling up to you because you smell good and I like having you close.” His wolf pushed up against his skin for the same reasons, truly content at that moment. Nuzzling her neck, Trick took in her scent, letting it override the smells of popcorn, nachos, spices, and fruity slushes. He was on a date with his mate. Life was good.

It would be fair to say he’d tricked her into going on the date, but only because he’d known that she wouldn’t fuss about it. One thing he really liked about Frankie was that there were no games. No playing hard to get. No acting like she was there under protest. No lies or bullshit. No playing it cool. It was fucking refreshing, and it made her easy to be around.

She was complex in that she had lots of facets—all of which fascinated him—but she was otherwise straightforward and uncomplicated. He loved that. Loved that he could trust her to say what she truly thought and felt, that he didn’t have to waste time reading between the lines.

He was snapped out of his musings as a kid playing on a token machine whooped with joy. Trick slipped his free arm around Frankie’s waist, holding her to him even as they stepped forward with the slow-moving queue. That was another thing he loved: he knew it was strange for her to have someone she barely knew touching her so often, but she didn’t pull away. She let herself relax with him, even though she had to be confused about just why it was so easy for her.

“You should stop nuzzling and nipping my neck,” said Frankie.

“Why?”

Quietly she replied, “Because it’s making you hard, and it’s making me all flustered.” Frankie felt his lips curve against her neck.

“I know. I can smell that you’re wet.”

And she could feel that he was hard. Considering his body was practically folded around hers, Frankie figured she probably should have felt a little claustrophobic. But she didn’t. She felt safe. Protected. Cosseted, even. Her wolf liked having him so close, liked the possessiveness in his touch.

He didn’t release her until, finally, they arrived at the counter. As the cashier rang up their order, Frankie grabbed straws and napkins from the dispensers. Just as they were walking away with their popcorn and sodas in hand, Frankie spotted none other than Vance and Layla heading toward the concession lines. And sadly, they spotted her. Well, hell.

She’d bumped into them once shortly after she and Vance broke up. Layla had clung to him, sending her smug looks. He’d been civil yet stiff toward Frankie, eager to get away. The next day he’d called Frankie to apologize for being unfriendly, explained that he just hadn’t wanted to “set Layla off.”

Today, well, Layla was too busy staring at Trick to care about sending superior looks at Frankie. And her wolf did not like the female appreciation in Layla’s eyes whatsoever. Vance’s gaze, hard and unreadable, danced from Trick to Frankie.

It was Trick who broke the awkward silence. “There a problem here?”

Layla almost jolted. “No, not at all. Frankie’s decided to be rude, so I’ll introduce us. I’m Layla, and this is Vance. We’re . . . distant friends of Frankie’s.”

Unconvinced, Trick drawled, “Right.” He could sense his mate’s discomfort, just as he could sense that there had once been something between her and Vance. It was clear to see in the way the human male looked at her with an intimate familiarity—something that pissed Trick the fuck off. It was also clear by Vance’s pinched expression and tight muscles that he didn’t like seeing Frankie with another male. Tough fucking shit.

Anger flashed through his wolf, who urged Trick to rake his claws down the human’s chest and warn him away from his mate. It was an idea he’d consider.

Layla’s eyes narrowed a little. “I know you.”

Trick tensed. “No, you don’t.” And he was done here. He arched a brow at Frankie. “Ready, baby?”

Layla clicked her fingers. “Wait, you’re the shifter from that YouTube video—you helped that girl. It was so sweet and brave of you to intervene like that.” Her eyes cut to Frankie. “Well, it’s good to see you’re moving on.”

Frankie almost snorted. Yeah? Layla didn’t really seem happy for her at all. Her eyes had been all dreamy and covetous when they’d stared at Trick. Once they sliced to Frankie, they’d darkened in envy and resentment. Layla had loved the idea that she had the guy Frankie wanted, loved that she’d “won.” Seeing Frankie with a male who was a billion times hotter than Vance apparently ticked her off. Good.

“Your grandparents didn’t mention that you were dating someone,” Vance said to Frankie, his voice flat. “I’m guessing they don’t know about him.”

“Not liking how close you’re standing to Frankie,” said Trick, glaring hard at him.

Vance’s brows snapped together and he blinked, as if he only then realized that he’d taken a step toward her. He backed up and moved aside to let them pass, pulling an irritated Layla out of the way.

Trick turned to Frankie. “Let’s go, baby.” As they strode off, Trick raised a brow. “So that asshole’s an ex of yours?”

Frankie sighed. “Sadly, yes. Layla was his ex. He ran back to her, but she hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s pissed that you’re with me. I’m thinking he’ll make it his business to be sure your grandparents know that you were on a date with a shifter.”

“I wish I could disagree with you.”

“Well, we’re not going to think about them,” Trick declared. “We’re going to watch this movie, enjoy it, and stuff our faces with popcorn.”

Frankie’s mouth curved. “Your plan has merit.”

After they’d had their tickets checked, they were directed to the theater. Soon they were heading down the dimly lit hallway and into the dark theater. As they climbed up the carpeted stairs, she noticed that there weren’t many people there.

Trick led her down the empty row at the very top. “I always sit at the back so I don’t have to deal with people kicking the back of my chair.”

“And here was me thinking you’d done it so we could make out in peace.” Her wolf liked his somewhat devilish chuckle. Sitting down, Frankie placed her soda in the cup holder and settled the extra-large popcorn on her lap. Curtains hung on either side of the big screen that was currently displaying overly loud previews. Still, she could hear people talking and munching on popcorn and nachos.

Trick’s cell glowed in the dark as he took it out of his pocket to switch it off. “So tell me, what do you wear for bed?”

A chuckle burst out of her. “What?”

He shrugged. “It’s a simple question. What do you wear for bed?”

Frankie delved into her popcorn. “Who says I wear anything?” She couldn’t help smiling at the low growl that rumbled out of him.

“Such a tease.” Since they were sharing the popcorn, he grabbed some and chucked it into his mouth. “But that’s okay, because so am I.” It was both a warning and a promise.

As they watched the movie, he massaged her free hand—the same one that often seized up. It might have relaxed her if he didn’t occasionally nip at her fingers or rake his teeth down her palm.

About halfway through the movie, he took the box of popcorn from her and put it on the floor. Ready to complain, Frankie looked at him. And her stomach clenched. There was no playful grin there. There was heat and need and hunger.

He spoke against her mouth. “Undo your jeans.”

Wait, what?

His hand curved around her throat and he gave it a light squeeze. “Do it.”

The idea of him touching her that way in public probably shouldn’t have revved her engines, but damn if it didn’t. She was particularly curious about just how far he’d take it. So she snapped open the buttons of her fly and waited to see what he’d do. His eyes went languid with satisfaction, and his hand released her neck.

“Good girl. Now watch the movie.”

Like her attention would be on anything other than what he was doing. Still, Frankie turned her face to the screen. He sucked on her earlobe just as his hand slid into her jeans and panties. Not far, just far enough for him to reach her clit. She liked the direction things were heading in.

Trick spoke into her ear. “I want you to stay still for me while I play with this pretty little clit. Don’t make a sound, Frankie.”

He didn’t play with her clit. He worked her clit. Tormented her until she wanted to cry.

Her pussy throbbed and clenched as his finger circled, rubbed, flicked, pressed, and stroked her clit. Her eyelids flickered as they fell shut. God, she was so wet it wasn’t even funny. Occasionally he’d dip his finger inside her, but only enough to scoop out some cream so he could lubricate her clit. She bucked her hips slightly, wanting that finger to slide between her folds and slip all the way inside her. But his hand stilled and he bit her earlobe.

“Do that again and I’ll stop.” Trick rubbed the side of her clit again, watching as she sank her teeth into her plush lower lip to hold back her moans. She wasn’t shy about her sexuality, and he loved that. Loved how responsive she was to him. Loved that she hadn’t bristled at his orders, that she’d trusted him to give her what she needed. Oh, he didn’t doubt that there would be times when he pushed her too hard and she told him to shove his orders up his ass. She was a dominant female, after all. But for now she was letting him lead, and he liked that a fuck of a lot.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he whispered. “Good. Mouth, Frankie, give me your mouth.” She turned her face to his, and he kissed her hard and deep as he stroked the side of her clit just the way he’d learned she liked it. When he sensed that she was on the very edge, he thumbed her clit and swallowed her groan as she came.

Cheeks flushed, eyes glazed over, she panted against his lips. He wanted nothing more than to drive his cock inside her and take what belonged to him. Not yet. “Next time, you’ll come when I’m inside you.” He withdrew his hand and shoved his wet finger into her mouth. “Suck it clean. I’d do it myself, but I want to have my first taste of you when my head is buried between your thighs.” She did as he told her, holding his gaze. “That’s it, good girl.”

Frankie expected him to grab her hand and drag her outside so he could get her home fast and take care of the hard-on she could see straining against his zipper. He didn’t. He just deftly fixed her fly, returned the popcorn to her lap, and turned back to the screen. She hissed. The orgasm had been great and all, but it only made her want more.

She wasn’t sure how she got through the rest of the movie without slapping him for getting her in such a state. As they were leaving, she shot him a look that called him an asshole. He just grinned.

Back in the foyer, he asked, “You need to use the restrooms before we go?”

“Yes,” she clipped, still annoyed with him. That got her yet another grin.

“If you’re out before me, wait here.” Trick kissed her, tasting popcorn and salt. “Go.” He waited until she was inside the ladies’ room before he turned to the men’s. He quickly did his business, eager to get back to her.

He was zipping his fly when he felt it. A presence. He wasn’t alone. And then a scent drifted to him—dark and familiar. His wolf’s upper lip peeled back.

There was no time to twirl and confront the fucker, because he heard the slight whistle of air. Trick ducked, barely avoiding the steel bar that then slammed into the tiled wall.

Trick rammed back his elbow, connected with a hard gut. There was a pained grunt as the body behind him staggered back. Twisting, Trick stood upright and jerked to the side as Drake then tried bringing the bar crashing down on his head. Son of a bitch.

Anger and adrenaline surging through him, Trick grabbed the wrist holding the bar and pressed his thumb hard on a pressure point, making Drake drop the bar with a curse. Grunting and snarling, they collided with a fury of fists.

It wasn’t combat. It was a brawl. Fast, furious, and bloodthirsty.

Drake was no easy target, and he got some good shots in. A punch to the temple. A strike to the solar plexus. A hard blow to his ribs that sent ripples of agony through Trick and made his stomach roll.

Trick got plenty of his own shots in. A ram of his elbow to the throat. A solid uppercut to the chin. A hard punch to the cheekbone that made Drake’s head whip to the side. Trick topped that off by ramming his forehead into Drake’s nose, smiling grimly at the resulting crack and spray of blood.

The prick didn’t back off, though. He kept on coming, eyes cold and flinty, face flushed and contorted into a scowl. And when he crouched, grabbed the bar, and swung it at Trick’s leg—motherfucker—Trick rammed the sole of his foot into the bastard’s face. Drake fell back, dazed, and the bar slipped from his fingers.

Seething with a rage that bubbled in his veins, Trick fisted Drake’s collar and dragged him along the bloodstained tiles into a stall. He forced Drake’s face into the toilet and flushed. He let him struggle. Let him feel the panic. Let him feel the burn of the fluid in his lungs.

With what little mercy he had left in him right then, Trick yanked the wolf’s head up out of the toilet. Drake didn’t fight back. He sucked in deep, loud breaths, coughing and hacking like a guy who’d just run out of a smoking building. Still, Trick might have dunked the asshole again if he hadn’t looked up to see Frankie leaning casually against the doorjamb of the stall.

Fuck.Shifters fought brutally, sure, and they solved a lot of shit through violence. But Frankie hadn’t been raised with that culture. She’d likely been taught that if shit went down you defended yourself, got out of harm’s way, and called the police for help.

Trick dumped a coughing Drake on the floor and strode out of the stall. She backed up to give him room, simply watching him. Trick stood there, chest heaving, muscles quivering, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

She sighed. “I leave you alone for five minutes . . .” She shook her head sadly, but there was a glint of humor in her eyes.

Relief blew through him, and he pulled in a deep breath through his nose. He couldn’t quite stop grinding his teeth, though. Rage still had a tight grip on him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, the humor in her eyes now replaced with concern. He just nodded. She tipped her chin toward Drake. “Friend of yours?”

Trick forced his jaw to unlock. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you about it when we get out of here.”

But he didn’t tell her. He fell silent the moment they slid into his SUV. Despite his slow, steady breaths and relaxed body language, Frankie could sense that he was still fuming. Giving him the time he seemed to need, she stayed quiet, looking through the window and watching the scenery pass by.

Thanks to the sounds of music, girls’ laughter, and the deafening hand dryer, Frankie hadn’t heard the struggle coming from the other restroom at first. She’d barged in and simply stared as she took in the blood spatter on the floor, the cracks in the tiles, the long steel bar, the kicking legs in the doorway of a stall, and—finally—Trick stuffing some guy’s head down the toilet.

Not a scene a girl expected to find while on a date.

Although she’d love an explanation, she kept her mouth shut. Soon enough he pulled up behind her Audi and switched off the ignition, but he didn’t move to get out. His hands were clenched around the wheel, and he was staring straight ahead. She noticed that his knuckles were no longer swollen or scuffed—God bless shifters’ enhanced healing. “You calm yet?”

“Calm? Let’s see. I took my woman out so she could relax, have fun, and forget about all the shit going on in her life. Then some motherfucker comes at me from behind with a steel fucking bar when I’m taking a piss, and totally fucks it up. So no, baby, I’m not calm.”

“I wouldn’t say he fucked it up. I did relax, have fun, and forget about the other stuff.”

“I would never hurt you.”

The words made her blink. “What?”

“I know I might have seemed out of control back there, and I won’t deny that I can be brutal in a fight. But I’m not someone who flies off the handle and beats the shit out of people. That guy back there is part of a messed-up pack that wants an alliance with Trey. The Alpha, Nash Morelli, isn’t happy that Trey won’t give it to him. Drake is Morelli’s Beta. He charged at Trey during a meeting, and I dealt with it. That back there was retaliation.”

“And since you just kicked his ass, he’ll probably retaliate again,” she mused.

“Probably. Which means I should stay away from you for a while.”

Her stomach bottomed out. “Stay away?”

“I should. But I won’t.” Trick held her eyes, willing her to believe him as he repeated, “I would never hurt you. You never have to fear me. Never.”

“Trick, if I feared you or I believed you’d harm me, I wouldn’t have gotten into the SUV with you. I certainly wouldn’t be thinking about having you in my bed tonight.” She opened the door, hopped out, and walked up her driveway.

Trailing behind her, Trick said, “Say that again.” Because it really was the very last thing he’d have expected her to say.

“You heard me. I already knew that you have a dark streak. You think I bought your laid-back act?” Snorting, Frankie opened the front door and entered the house. “That easygoing charm hasn’t fooled me. I know you tone down your dominance around me. What I don’t know is why you do it.”

Trick closed the door behind him. On the one hand, he liked that he didn’t have to pretend. On the other, she’d have questions he didn’t want to answer. “I didn’t want you feeling overwhelmed or intimidated. You might be half shifter, but you’re not used to our intensity, our ways, or just how possessive we can be.”

That made both her and her wolf bristle. “I’m not made of fine bone china, Trick. You don’t need to protect me from you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this what you meant when you kept saying I wasn’t ready for you? You don’t think I can handle you the way you are?”

“I don’t think you can handle just how much I’ll want from you. Not yet.”

“Elaborate.”

“And scare you off?” He shook his head. “That’s not on my list of things to do.”

“Why would it scare me? You’re not making sense. Are you trying to say that you’re a sadist or something? If so, that is going to be a problem.”

“I’m not a sadist.”

“Then I don’t understand what you’re getting at. Given that you’re very dominant, assertive, and you have a forceful personality, I’ve already figured out that a relationship with you wouldn’t be easy. Am I wrong?” It was a dare to lie to her.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a relationship.”

“Never?”

“There’ve been flings, but they were short and shallow. I never let my partners get too close.” Not even Marcus. Before the enforcer mated, he and Trick had scratched each other’s itches occasionally. Trick had let him close as a friend, but not as a partner.

“So that’s all you want with me—a fling?”

Trick shook his head and gently tapped her nose. “You’re different.”

Frankie frowned. “You mean you see me as yours, since we’re part of the same pack?”

“Something like that.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket. “I need to call Trey.”

Frankie watched him closely as he swiped his thumb over the screen and tapped it a few times. “Something like that,” he’d said, an odd glint in his eyes. And then her heartbeat kicked up as it all seemed to thread together. The way her body reacted to him, that fierce determination in his eyes, the possessiveness he displayed, the way her wolf tested him to see if he was worthy. Worthy as a mate, Frankie now realized. Her wolf didn’t fight her assumption. Oh hell.

She wasn’t quite as shocked as she should have been, so maybe she’d subconsciously suspected they were mates. Or maybe she’d just had so many shocks lately that she was immune to them at this point. Her primary emotion right then was unease. Not because she didn’t want it to be true, but because she did. She wanted Trick to be hers. She just didn’t want the shit-storm that could follow.

“Trey, we got a problem,” he said. “Or we had a problem until I shoved its face down a fucking toilet . . . Drake . . . I was at the movies with Frankie. He came at me in the restroom. Tried to bash my head in with a steel bar . . . No, I’m fine. I don’t know if Morelli sent him, but I’m more inclined to think that the motherfucker was retaliating for what happened at the meeting . . . Yeah . . . No, I’m with Frankie . . . Yeah. All right. Later.” Ending the call, Trick turned to Frankie. Whatever he saw on her face made his brows snap together. “You okay?”

She swallowed hard. “Are we mates?”

Trick stilled. Really, he wasn’t all that surprised that she’d figured it out. As he’d told the pack, she was smart and open-minded. He crossed to her, pleased when she didn’t back up. “Yes, baby, we are.” He curved his hand around the side of her neck. “At first I thought this was shit timing for you, what with everything else that’s going on. But I was wrong. If there’s one thing you need right now, it’s support, someone who’s all about you. Someone who’s on your side—not the Newmans’ side, not the pack’s side, just yours.”

Frankie raked a hand through her hair. “This is . . .”

“Going to make things a lot harder for you with the Newmans. I get that. And it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re not quite sure that true mate bonds are such great things, given what happened with your parents. But I’m not going anywhere, Frankie.” He skimmed his thumb over her jaw. “It eats me up inside that I missed so much of your life. Eats me up that I didn’t realize who you were to me when we were kids. I’ve been waiting to find you—or, as it seems, to get you back—for so fucking long . . . I’m not going to give you up. Not to spare the Newmans’ feelings, and not because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared, I just . . . Look, I watched the mated pairs when I visited your territory. I saw how devoted they are to each other. I don’t think, just because something went wrong for my parents, that having a mate is a bad thing. But I feel so torn right now. I’m still struggling to find a way to make everyone happy—”

“You can’t,” he said softly. “I wish you could, baby, but you can’t.” His pack would be happy as long as they had contact with her, but she couldn’t give them that without hurting her maternal family.

“I have to try.”

“Then you try. But the Newmans will expect you to give me up and cut contact with the pack, just like they expect you to give up sculpting—like it isn’t part of who you are.” Trick draped an arm over her shoulders, hating how vulnerable she looked right then. “Come on. You need to sit. We’ll talk this out.” He led her to the kitchen, where she slid onto one of the stools at the island. “Wine or beer?”

“Beer.” Frankie waited until she’d had a long drink from the bottle before she asked, “How long have you believed we’re mates?” She thought back to the way he’d behaved at the coffeehouse, how he’d watched her like a hawk, touched her with so much possessiveness. “It’s been since that first day, hasn’t it?”

Trick planted a hand on the island on either side of her, caging her in. “I knew the moment our eyes met outside the coffeehouse and my world tilted that you’re mine.”

“You were so sure so quickly?”

He gently brushed her nose with his. “How much do you know about mating bonds?”

Being half shifter, she’d made a point of learning about mating bonds by reading blogs written by shifters. “They’re metaphysical. Once they’re fully formed, they’re only breakable by death. They join the couple so closely that it’s rare that one can live without the other.”

“That’s right. Some pairs recognize each other as their true mates instantly—not often, but it does happen. Then the mating urge kicks in, and it literally drives the couple to claim each other.”

She’d read about that, read that it was like a fever in the bloodstream that sent the person’s arousal soaring, and the arousal wouldn’t go away until the couple bonded. “I haven’t felt any mating urge.”

“Because something’s blocking the bond. It’s like a frequency; the way needs to be clear for the couple to pick it up. Fears, secrets, and doubts can block a bond. I don’t have to wonder what’s blocking ours. You’re struggling to balance everything. You’re trying to find a way to belong to both worlds—in doing that, you’re splitting yourself in half. All of you has to accept your shifter side.”

Frankie bristled, pausing with the bottle halfway to her mouth. “I do accept my wolf. Always have.”

“Not talking about your wolf. I’m talking about what comes with her: your heritage, your past, your pack—especially since mating with me will mean moving to pack territory. In case you’re wondering, no, you are not expected to give up your job. You’re not the only pack member who has one. The only thing you would be giving up is this house.” But accepting all that would mean the Newmans would likely turn on her.

Frankie tossed back a mouthful of beer. “If there was no mating urge, how were you so sure we were mates so fast?”

“Because nothing’s blocking the bond on my end. I have no doubts or fears about mating. I have plenty of personal issues, but none that would get in the way of mating.” He dabbed a kiss on first one corner of her mouth and then the other, needing the contact. “It’s commonly believed that our inner animals know their mate at first sight. I trust my wolf’s instincts and I listen to him, so I always believed that I’d recognize my true mate at the same time as he did. To be honest, though, a part of me started to doubt that he’d recognize her so easily.”

“Why?”

“Tao’s wolf didn’t like Riley at first, so I started to wonder if maybe our animals don’t always know instantly. I told myself that just because Tao’s wolf didn’t initially like her didn’t mean that he didn’t recognize her as his. Riley loved to drive Tao insane, so I supposed it was possible that his wolf just felt disrespected and dismissed by her.” Trick cupped the side of her neck and began lightly breezing his thumb up and down the column of her throat. “If my wolf recognized you as mine when we were kids, he didn’t communicate it to me.”

“Maybe you just weren’t as in tune with him back then.”

“I should have known.”

Frankie didn’t like the self-condemnation in his tone. “Why? Did you have the same mentality about mating that you do now?”

“No. I was a kid, so my priorities were much simpler. But I was protective of you, though I just figured it was because you were the youngest pup. I was even a little possessive, now that I think about it. When you left, I kept asking Iris when you were coming back. I was angry when you didn’t. Not at you, just at the situation. My wolf was just as angry.”

“How did your wolf react to me when we met outside the coffeehouse?”

“He went perfectly still. Searched for a weakness. Ready to pounce and claim. He sensed you were his instantly. He was pissed the hell off when I left you at the coffeehouse. Wanted to take you home and keep you safe.” He paused as something occurred to him, something that made his pulse quicken and gave him hope. “You haven’t said we might not be mates. Why?”

“I haven’t slept with a lot of guys, but I have enough experience to know that my body’s instant reaction to you wasn’t normal. At first I figured it was just because you were an unmated shifter—that it was like calling to like. But I didn’t react that way to Dominic, and he’s unmated.

“Plus I’m not a touchy-feely person and I like my personal space, but it doesn’t bother me or my wolf that you’re very tactile or that you eat up all that space. And you have this way of putting me at ease just by being there, even though I barely know you. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not willfully blind. None of that is normal, is it?”

“No, it’s not. And I’m glad that you’re so open-minded and you don’t turn a blind eye to things that you don’t understand.” He snaked his hand around to cup her nape. “You are mine, Frankie. And I’m yours. You were made for me. And I was made for you. Are you going to fight that?”

She swallowed. “I’m not going to deny that you’re right. I think you are. But I don’t know if I’m ready for the bond yet.”

“Baby,” he began softly, “didn’t you hear what I was telling you earlier? I know you’re not ready. You’re still adjusting to being part of a pack and facing the truth about your parents. The bond will demand everything from you, and you’ve got enough things demanding stuff of you right now. I can wait. I’m here, and I will continue to be here through all the shit that’s going on. I know you’re feeling like you’re being pulled in different directions, but I’m the one person you don’t have to try to please, because you please me by just existing. You’re my priority. You get me?”

Frankie licked her bottom lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s priority.”

That just about broke his heart. “You can trust that you come first to me. There isn’t one single damn thing that’s more important to me than you.” He took the bottle from her and placed it on the island. “Kiss me, Frankie.”

Tired of thinking, she shoved everything out of her head. Everything but him and how much she wanted him. Frankie pressed her mouth to his, but she didn’t kiss him. She traced his lips with her tongue, hands sliding up his chest to fist his shirt. Teasingly, she briefly slid her tongue into his mouth just enough to glide it against the tip of his own. And apparently that was all Trick could take.

With a growl he slammed his mouth on hers and plunged his tongue inside. It wasn’t a kiss. It was an explosion of need. An earth-shattering devastation of her senses.

He shoved his hands up the back of her shirt and yanked her forward so she was flush against him. Sensations bombarded her. His tongue licking into her mouth. His teeth biting her lip. Calloused fingertips digging into her waist. His dark scent swirling around her, flavored with need.

His growls poured down her throat and rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her nipples. Claws raked at her back just hard enough to feel good. And when he shoved his hand under her bra and splayed it possessively on her breast, she tugged on his hair, demanding more. Always more.

Trick cupped and squeezed her breast as he kissed his way down to her pulse. He sucked it into his mouth, felt it beating there, and decided right then that he’d one day leave his claiming mark on that very spot. He couldn’t claim her yet—not officially—but he would sure as hell make her feel thoroughly claimed. He wouldn’t take his mate for the first time on a kitchen island, though.

He slid his hands under her thighs and lifted her, and she locked her legs around him. As he carried her up the stairs, she licked, bit, and sucked at his neck—branding him as hers, and sending his need soaring. The demanding prick of her claws on his back made him growl.

Reaching the landing, he fisted her hair, snatched her head back, and took her mouth. Possessing and dominating, ensuring she knew exactly who was in control. When she went pliant, he spoke. “Bedroom?”

“On your left,” Frankie rasped.

Carrying her inside, he slid her down his body. There was no finesse in the way they stripped. Clothes were tugged, clawed, and yanked until they were both finally naked.

Frankie swallowed at the deliciously masculine view before her. He was all hard muscle and sleek skin and untamed power. She skimmed her hands over his solid shoulders and down his tanned, totally ripped chest, heading right for the long, thick, hard cock that—

He tossed her on the bed, and Frankie surprised herself by chuckling. When he didn’t move to join her, she said, “You going to stand there all night or are you going to fuck me?”

“I’ll fuck you when I’m ready to fuck you,” Trick said simply, raking his gaze over her. Fuck, she was gorgeous. Her breasts were round and full, topped with rosy nipples that tightened even further under his scrutiny. The diamond anchor belly button ring was hot as fuck, especially with the black, delicate vine tattoo that started on her left hip, diagonally swirled its way across her ribs, and then disappeared up her side.

“You look ready to me,” she said, flicking his hard cock a meaningful glance.

Trick fisted his hands as she spread her thighs a little, tempting him, inviting him. Her pussy was pink and glistening, and he needed to taste it. He snapped his eyes to hers. “Grab the headboard, Frankie.” Her brow slowly lifted, but she curled her hands around the iron rungs of the headboard. “Good. Keep those hands right there. Do not let go.”

“But—”

“Do not let go.” He knelt on the bed and tapped her thigh. “Wider, Frankie. Offer me what’s mine.” Agonizingly slowly, her thighs fell open. Her scent rushed into his lungs. Yes, this was what he wanted, her all spread out for him like a feast. “I’m not going to claim you yet, but I am going to leave my brand on you. Here. Now. As many times as I want.”

Frankie gripped the headboard tight as Trick began to torture her neck with his tongue and teeth, leaving several marks. Not bites that were hard enough to draw blood or scar like a claiming mark, but hard enough to make a statement that she was his. As those possessive hands roamed and explored and squeezed, they also branded her as his just as surely as any bite.

A gasp flew out of her as he suckled on her nipple. Each rhythmic tug seemed to shoot sparks of need straight to her clit. “Trick—” She jolted as he left a suckling bite on the swell of her breast. “I get it! Consider me branded and fuck me!”

“Not done with you yet.” Trick kissed his way from her breast to the vine on her ribs and then trailed his tongue along the tattoo, following it all the way down to her hip. He bit hard, leaving yet another mark, and soothingly laved it with his tongue. He needed her to be all marked up. It galled him to know that she’d been with others. If things had been different, he could have claimed her long ago. He’d have been the only male to ever kiss her, ever touch her, ever sink inside her.

A growl rattled his chest. “No one else should ever have had you.” He curved his hand around her chin, his grip tight. “No one but me will ever again have you, Frankie. No other mouth will taste you. No other cock will fuck you. No other hands will touch you. Why is that?”

She licked her lips. “Because I’m yours.”

Loosening his grip on her chin, he stroked his thumb along her jaw. “That’s right. Mine. And you won’t forget that, will you?”

“You wouldn’t let me.”

Trick smiled. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Sliding down her body, he settled himself between her thighs and inhaled deeply. “I swear I could get drunk off your scent.” He swiped his tongue between her slick folds and groaned at her sweet and spicy taste. “Fuck, yeah, I like that.”

Keeping a tight grip on her quivering thighs, Trick pretty much devoured her. Every raspy, gritty moan stroked his cock. Every buck of her hips spurred him on. Every rain of honey on his tongue shoved him that much closer to losing his control.

He’d held back with every one of his past partners. Always held a part of himself in check. With Frankie he didn’t have to hold back a damn thing. He could lose himself in her, give her everything, because she was everything.

Trick carefully dipped his thumb into the tight bud of her ass. “Did you save this for me, baby?” She nodded, and his wolf growled in contentment. Trick gave her pussy a long rewarding lick. “My good girl tastes so good.” He draped himself over her and slammed home just as his hands closed around hers, keeping them locked around the iron rungs. He groaned as her inferno-hot pussy squeezed and rippled around him.

She curved into him. “Move.”

“I’ll keep to my word and not claim you, Frankie, but there’s no going back after this. None.” He needed her to understand and accept it. “Mating bond or not, you’re mine. Are we clear on that?”

“Crystal,” she rasped. “Now fuck me.”

“Oh, I’ll fuck you.” He flexed his cock inside her. “I’ll fuck you until your hot little pussy clamps around my cock and milks me dry. You want to feel my come shoot inside you?” Her pussy rippled again. “Good. Because you’re gonna.” And then he began ramming into her.

Frankie had always liked her sex rough, and she’d never been ashamed of it. This was beyond rough. Each hard punch of his hips was aggressive and ruthless. His cock stretched her until it stung and battered at her womb. Yet this wasn’t just fucking. She knew it. Felt it. Saw it in the dark eyes that stared at her with a gut-twisting naked possessiveness.

She struggled to pull her hands free, wanting to touch him, but his hands kept hers pinned. And she had to admit, a part of her liked it. Liked that all she could do was take the hard pounding he gave her. “Trick, I’m close.”

“I know.” He growled into her ear. “Can you hear your pussy greedily sucking my cock back inside you?” Trick ground his teeth as her pussy heated and fluttered around his dick. “Fucking love that sound.” He slammed harder, faster, pushing her closer to the edge.

Frankie tightened her legs around him. “I’m going to come.”

“You’re going to come for me, Frankie. You’re going to make me come inside you.” He sank his teeth into her neck with a growl. Her spine snapped straight as she screamed, her pussy squeezing and contracting around him. His own release swallowed him whole and, keeping his teeth locked on her neck, he brutally thrust his cock deep and exploded—the white-hot pleasure went on and on and on.

When his brain finally switched back on, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him and keeping his cock snug inside her. A strange kind of peace settled over him, leaving him more sated and content than he’d ever been in his life. And he knew it would be ten times better when he finally claimed her. For now, this was enough.

As she lay over him, boneless, he trailed his fingers over her back. Feeling slight grooves, he lifted his head to see fresh claw marks. He didn’t remember leaving the brands, but he sure as hell liked the look of them. He saw something else there too. Between her shoulder blades was a weeping willow tattoo, its low branches whipping in the breeze. He traced it with his finger as he guessed, “You had this done for your mom.”

“How did you know?” she asked, her voice dreamy.

“She planted a weeping willow tree near your cabin on pack territory. You used to dance around it.”

Propping her chin up on his chest, Frankie frowned. “I don’t remember that. She planted one in Marcia’s flower garden too. Apparently she used to sit under it and read or write in her journal. It was her favorite spot.”

He smoothed his hand over the tattoo on her upper arm. “Why a dream catcher?” She just shrugged. Trick hazarded a guess. “So that you can catch and hold on to your dream of being a sculptor, no matter what others say?”

Her eyes narrowed a little. “I’m not sure I like how well you understand me.”

“Learn to like it.” Bunching her hair in his hand, he kissed her. Tasted. Teased. Savored.

“Speaking of tattoos,” began Frankie, “I like yours.” The tribal tattoo sleeve on his left arm also bled onto the left side of his chest and abs. On the right side of his upper chest was the quote “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” It was a Shakespeare quote, if she remembered rightly. She was just about to ask what had prompted him to choose those tattoos when his thumb breezed over a mark he’d left in the crook of her neck, making her shiver just a little.

“I’ve been wanting to leave my mark on you since first I saw you at the coffeehouse,” he said. “You can’t imagine how hard it was to walk away from you that day. It never gets easier.” And Trick was done with it. “No more nights apart, Frankie. I won’t pressure you to give me what you’re not ready for, but I need something. I need what you can give. And now that you know we’re mates and that this is heading somewhere, I don’t need to tread so carefully around you. You’re not going to be confused or weirded out by me turning up here whenever I want and spending whatever time I can get with you. We’re both busy people, but we can at least spend our nights together. Yeah?”

Frankie swallowed and said softly, “Yeah.”

His face smoothed out and went all lazy with satisfaction. “That’s my girl.” He gave her a light kiss. “Now sleep.”