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Put like that, how can I refuse?
With a small nod, I pull back from West, shuffling on my knees until my back is too him. I’m playing with fire, doing what I’m about to do, but I fall forward, going to my hands in knees in front of him. I press my legs together so that my pussy is concealed from his sight, but there’s no hiding my bare ass without any panties to cover it.
“My thighs,” I murmur. “He clawed the backs of my thighs, but I wanted those marks gone so I healed them first.”
West’s hand ghosts over my skin. “That’s right, baby. You kept my mark. Not his.”
The possessive note in his voice has me rising up just enough to push my thigh into his palm. “That’s right, West. Only yours.”
He doesn’t point out that I’m lying to him. Maybe tonight I’m his, but the whole reason why he wasn’t there when the feral found me was because I’d finally admitted that we couldn’t keep this up. I still have an intended, but Rafael is a distant memory as West rises up on his knees, bending his body over mine.
He’s still in his sweatpants. As though he wants me to be aware that he isn’t trying anything like that feral did, he rubs the material of the sweatpants against the small of my back before he starts nuzzling my neck.
No. Not nuzzling.
Sniffing.
He’s scenting me. Running his nose along the curve of my shoulder, down my back, near my armpit. As though he needs to know exactly where the feral touched me the most, he’s checking every part of me he can.
When he reaches my waist, near the bruises, he stiffens.
“He grabbed you here,” he says unnecessarily before he goes a little further south. When he skims down one of my bare ass cheeks, he growls, the vibrations enough to actually kickstart my arousal.
When the feral had his mouth on my pussy, I wanted to die. But when it’s West just as close…
“You smell like him,” he announces, his voice gone husky. “I can scent your heat and your cream, and fuck if it isn’t delicious, but I smell him, too.” Another growl. “I can’t stand you smelling like that bastard.”
Of course not. He thinks of me as his. Finding the trace of another male’s scent on his mate? That’s enough to turn even the most even-keeled shifter just a touch feral.
He’s not a feral, but right when I thought I pulled him back from the brink, West is teetering on the edge of his control again.
His hands are on my thighs. He’s still careful not to touch me too roughly, but he’s not letting go. He’s not moving his face, either. Just about burying his nose along my slit, I’m suddenly reminded that, while he has on pants, the feralbitmy underwear off of me.
Just further proof that West is still in control. If he wasn’t, I have no doubt he’d already be finding a way to get rid of the dark scent himself.
Actually, that’s not such a bad idea.
CHAPTER13
QUICKSILVER
Ashower would do no good. Neither would a bath. A male shifter’s musk will only fade with time, or when another male overlays it with his.
Bracing myself in case he rejects me, I ask him, “Would you like it better if I wore your scent instead?”
“Are you asking me to mount you?” I’m not surprised that, over his need to erase the feral’s markers, he sounds incredulous. “You told me that we can’t mate again.”
“I know. But… and don’t feel like you have to… but if you want to use your mouth on me—”
“Feel like I have to? Helene, I haven’t had a taste of you in three years. I never thought you’d let me get this close… and you say ‘feel like I have to’? I know I’ve gone crazy. Have you, baby?”
Honestly? I’m not so sure.
The way I see it, the blood triggered his protective instincts. The scent of the feral’s lust and musk overlaying mine? It’s bringing out his possessive side.
As an omega, I need to rein him in. If I get a little pleasure out of it while making him happy, letting him replace the feral’s scent with his own, is that so bad?
No. He’s right. I think I have gone crazy.
