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“Don’t mess around. If you were playing a joke, just tell me. ”
“Secret, I swear to God it wasn’t me. ”
He shut the door, blocking out the chilling wind, and turned to get a good look at me. Seeing I was uninjured and more irritated than scared, a smirk played at his mouth.
“What?” Yup, definitely irritated.
“Nice outfit. ”
I smacked him in the shoulder but had the presence of mind not to do it with my sword hand.
His grin widened. “That’s the best you got?”
This time I punched him in the arm with my real strength, and he winced. I might have felt bad if he didn’t make a lunge for me. My gut reaction was to swing the sword, a response that had killed many more frightening foes than a werewolf in human form. But luck was on Desmond’s side, because I happened to be in love with him and love tended to trump other natural responses.
He took full advantage of my hesitation by grabbing me around the waist and snatching the sword out of my hand. So much for that option. Desmond tossed the sword through the open apartment doorway where it bounced over the carpet, scaring the bejeezus out of poor Rio, who hissed at it before hiding under the loveseat.
Desmond lifted me as though I weighed nothing—which was probably what I felt like to a buff werewolf—and slung me over his shoulder. I wanted to fight, but this angle gave me a fabulous view of his wonderful, toned butt, and I was hard-pressed to find anything wrong with that.
He kicked the door closed behind us, and I watched the apartment slide by as I dangled upside down, a curtain of my blonde curls obscuring most of the view.
“Aren’t you at all curious about the knocking?” I wheezed, the question directed at his tush.
He didn’t stop walking until we were in the bedroom, where he heaved me onto the unmade bed.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, lifting his head and looking around the room.
“Hear what?” I listened closely but heard nothing.
“Nada. Not a damned thing. No knocking. ” With his coat on the chair and his tie already loosened, I could tell strange noises were the last thing on Desmond’s mind. Getting to my knees, I fixed him with a serious look.
“What if it was a monster?” My tone was playful, but just saying the word reawakened my guilt. He must have seen the shift in my eyes because he climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of me, cupping my face between his warm, rough hands.
The touch of his wide, familiar palms made a sensational heat bloom inside me. If there was one thing Desmond could be counted on for, it was making me forget my problems.
“The monsters will always be there, Secret. Let’s just pretend for a little while we don’t know anything about them. Deal?”
I ran my hand through the thick, dark waves of his hair. It had gotten longe
r in our time together, and wilder. Sometimes it reminded me of the carefree waves Holden had always favored, but I bit my tongue whenever the comparison sprang to mind. Desmond’s extraordinary violet-gray eyes were searching my face, trying to judge my reaction to his request.
I smiled and traced a path from his hair, down his cheek, my fingernails grazing the five o’clock shadow that made him look both mature and dangerous.
“Stand up,” I whispered.
A befuddled look overcame him, but he edged backwards off the bed and complied with my instructions. I crawled towards him, my gaze fixed on his face, and the new expression there was worth every slow, painstaking inch I traveled.
When I stopped I was on all fours at the end of the bed, eye level with his Gucci belt buckle. I breathed out a hot, openmouthed sigh, and Desmond groaned. He reached out to touch my hair, but the instant I felt the brush of fingers, I pulled back and shook my head.
“That’s not how this is going to work. ”
He raised a single brow and couldn’t hide the smirk threatening to overtake his lips. As patient as he was, his resolve wouldn’t last forever. Werewolves, especially those with Alpha leanings like Desmond, were used to being in control at all times. It had never bothered me that his dominant nature exhibited itself in our bedroom, because I knew it was hard for him to keep it buried in the pack.
As Lucas’s second, Desmond couldn’t flaunt his power since he didn’t want to upset the balance. If he wasn’t the king’s lieutenant, he’d be Alpha of another pack, and I wondered if he ever regretted not being given the opportunity.
But I had dominant urges too. And with all the stress and pressure that had been mounded on me, I didn’t want that to be one more thing I needed to bury.
Tonight I needed to let my freak flag fly.
