A Mate's Forgiving Touch Read online

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “No need to shout, I ain’t deaf. Find out what?” Bravado couldn’t cover the squeak in his voice.

  “Is it just Mac, or have you been ripping off other suppliers, too?”

  “Shit. Shit! Who told you? The new guy, right? Don’t think I didn’t see you on the back of his bike the other night. Taking you for a ride, huh?” Insinuation laced his tone.

  “You’re dead, Dale. Fucking dead. No one steals from me. Do you understand?” she growled into the phone, the wolf thick in her voice.

  Pitiful protests whined in her ear. Weak. Pathetic. The bloodlust and fury pumped harder through her veins. Plastic cracked in her hand, shards digging into the soft meat of her palm when she crushed the mobile phone in her grip. She threw the remnants across the room. The scent of her blood fueled the need to hunt. A shudder rippled up her spine, and her teeth suddenly felt too big for her mouth.

  Connor filled the doorway, blocking her exit, and she snarled at him. Gold rolled across his eyes, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Hello, little wolf.”

  “Get out of my way, Connor.” She didn’t wait for him to move, the fury pumping through her veins drove her need to stalk her prey and rend him to pieces with her claws.

  She launched herself forward determined to knock the arrogant grinning, sexy-as-hell wolf out of her way. Like Wile. E. Coyote running full tilt into a brick wall, she hit the solid heat of his chest and stopped dead. His arms looped around her back, catching her against him, pressing her close to the tempting flesh of his body. Her need for revenge would not be distracted, and she clawed at his shoulders, twisting her body to try and break free of his hold.

  “Bailey? Bailey! You need to calm down, baby.” Connor tightened his arms, refusing to let her go.

  How dare he try and control me. Her anger turned, finding a new source to attack, and she sank her teeth into the thick ridge of muscle at his shoulder. Hot iron filled her mouth, and her eyes rolled back in her head at the taste of his blood on her tongue.

  “Fuck, lover, that’s hot as hell.” He groaned, slid his arms down her back to cup her ass, and ground his hips against hers.

  Pain and pleasure ripped through her, cutting off the last of her murderous thoughts. Connor sucked the side of her neck, fingers digging into her ass hard enough to bruise as he carried her across the room and set her on the top of her desk. She groaned, spreading her legs to give him access. He stepped between her open thighs, and she rubbed against him, luxuriating in the slide of his hard shaft through the slickness between her legs.

  “Fuck me, Connor,” she growled. Her vision sharpened, the mismatched perspective between her eyes solidifying into one for the first time in forever it seemed.

  He lowered his head, swiped his tongue across her lips, and growled. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he licked the blood from her palm, soothing the deep scratches where the broken phone had cut into her hand. Shock waves from the abraded skin shot straight to her pussy. He cupped her breasts, raising one to his mouth as he leaned over her to catch the tip of her nipple between his teeth. Clawing at his shoulders, she urged him closer, chanting his name over and over. He rolled his hips away from her attempts to line up his cock, and she snarled.

  Lifting his head, Connor snarled right back. “Patience, lover. You’ll get fucked when I decide it’s time, not before.”

  Rebellion flared, but she whined, lowering her eyes obediently. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to her breasts, lapping the puckered areola. Taking advantage of his distraction, she wriggled from his grasp, dropped to her knees, and took his cock deep into her mouth. The musky scent of him filled her nose, overwhelming her. Opening her mouth wide, she swallowed as much of his length as she could accommodate. She sucked on his silken shaft, tonguing beneath the flared head.

  His hands dropped to her hair. Tangling the strands around his fingers, he took control, thrusting his hips, making her moan eagerly. He withdrew, her moans shifting to whines at the loss of her treat. Hefting her over his shoulder, Connor slapped her ass. The stinging blow ignited her passion like lighter fluid on a barbecue, and she sank her teeth into the back of his arm. His hand cracked down again.

  She clawed the cheeks of his ass. “Put me down.”

  Ignoring her plea, he carted her downstairs, tossing her across the firm mattress of her bed. Dragging open the drawer of her bedside table, he withdrew her dildo with a grunt of satisfaction. “Get on your knees, lover. Face away from me.”

  He sat on the bed, back against the pillows, legs stretched in front of him. Straddling his waist, she gorged on his cock, almost choking in her eagerness.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded, moaning around the flesh filling her mouth. He thrust the dildo into her pussy, lifting his hips at the same time. He fucked her until she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but surrender her body to the riot of need. All the anger, all the outrage and fury she felt toward Dale burned away in the heated onslaught Connor waged on her body.

  His finger circled her clit, and she had to close her eyes. Denying one of her senses enhanced the others. She teetered so close to the edge, rocking back and forth between the toy and his cock. His wet digit shifted from her clit to stroke over the puckered entrance to her ass, and she fractured into a million shining pieces. Salt hit her tongue. She drank him down, greedy for every drop of his release, needing to take the essence of him deep into her body.

  Gentle hands removed the hard plastic from her still-quaking body, and she shuddered at the pull against her tender muscles. At his urging, she lifted her head, turning enough to allow him to drag her up the bed and into his arms. He coated her with his body, whispering words of praise and love. He’d held her before. Connor liked to cuddle and pet, dragging her close to him even in his sleep. Never one for such intimacies, she’d indulged him, telling herself it was no big deal. This time, the weight of him draped over her settled the restlessness at the very center of her being. He’d seen her at her worst. Seen her lose control to the monster inside her, and, contrary to her deepest fears, he’d embraced it. Welcomed it even. Hello, little wolf. The pride and passion in those three words struck a chord in her soul that even his declaration of love hadn’t. He saw her, knew her, claimed her as his.

  Our mate is proud of us. Satisfied, her wolf settled, slowly withdrawing into the recesses of her mind. Her sharpened vision faded and Bailey blinked, waiting for the slight disorientation from her mismatched eyes to return. She blinked again when her vision remained clear.

  “Bailey.” Connor’s hoarse voice drew her eyes to his face. Hope glittered in his slate regard, and he raised his hand to cup her cheek. “There you are. There’s my beautiful girl,” he whispered against her lips.

  She opened her mouth to him, welcomed him in, and something shifted in her heart. This man, this mate of hers had helped her find herself again.

  “Mate.” She breathed the word into his mouth, and he pulled her closer, deepening their kiss until she forgot where she ended and he began. They were one in that moment. Could be so forever…if she were brave enough to accept him.

  Chapter Seven

  The phone disturbed his sleep, so Donald Clarke fumbled for the handset, squinting through the backend of a scotch-induced fog. It was still dark outside. “Hello?”

  “Donald.”

  Ice coated his spine. He’d expected the call, but that didn’t stop his stomach from churning. Bile coated the back of his throat, and he swallowed it down.

  Taking a breath, he reached for the attitude he’d used to control Clarke Construction, and most of the town of Franklin at the same time. “Anthony. I sent the transfer last week. Is there a problem?” Playing dumb didn’t fool either of them, but he needed to buy enough time to get his liquor-soaked brain working. Grabbing blindly for the bottle of aspirin beside the bed, he shook a couple into his hand and washed them down with the
last hit of scotch in the crystal tumbler.

  “Problem? That abomination you call your daughter threatens my son, and you wonder if there is a problem?” Goddamn, Bailey. What did you do now? “A wolf is spotted in your territory and you don’t notify me, and you wonder if there is a problem?” The voice on the other end of the phone rose rapidly. He’d seen Anthony in a tear before, and it wasn’t pretty. The leader of their group had a foul temper when crossed. A red-faced, flying-spittle, take-no-prisoners temper that he used to control most of the others. Donald wasn’t afraid of his temper. He was, however, afraid of the secrets Anthony held over him. He knew what Bailey was. Knew because he’d been the one to kill her parents and leave her orphaned. A large portion of Clarke’s profits went into a slush fund Anthony used to support their group’s activities—the price Donald paid to keep his child alive.

  “I’ll deal with it.” He paused, racking his addled brain for a way to avoid his next words. Coming up empty, he tried again. “I’ve been making arrangements, wanted everything in place before I invited you to hunt.”

  “Full moon’s tonight. Perfect timing. I’ve already advised the group. We’ll be there at six thirty. I’ll shoot anything on four paws, Donald. Anything.”

  The dial tone buzzed in his ear. He staggered into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before heaving scotch, bile, and terror into the porcelain bowl.

  The second he heard the growl of Connor’s bike rolling down the driveway, Donald staggered downstairs to hammer on the door separating Bailey’s annex from the rest of the house. She yanked the door open, her pretty features twisted into a scowl. He stopped short when she blocked his attempt to cross the threshold. She’d never done that before. The fear in his belly boiled to anger. It’s still my goddamn house. How dare she try and stop me? He closed in on her, using his superior height to try and intimidate her. Her nose wrinkled, and she stepped back, shooting a look of disgust at the stained front of the T-shirt he’d slept in.

  Donald followed her into the room, slamming the door closed behind him. He’d been too soft on her, and it was time to bring her to heel. Grabbing her shoulders, he shook her. “Have you gone mad?”

  “Get your hands off me,” she snarled, shoving him back with her unnatural strength. Her hands curled and she spread her feet, bracing as though ready to pounce.

  Everything about her posture echoed what she was, and his fear—of her and for her—dragged the cruel darkness in his soul to the fore. He shook his head. “I should have known better. Should never have taken you in. Anthony was right. You’re an abomination, just like those freaks who whelped you. I should have let Anthony put you down when he wiped them out. Your kind are not fit to walk the same earth as decent human beings.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late.

  The color drained from her face, and she swayed so hard Donald reached instinctively to catch her. She slapped his hand away. “Don’t you touch me.” Her voice rose to a shriek. “Don’t you ever touch me!”

  “Bailey. Bailey, I’m sorry, but you bring these things on yourself. If you would only learn to control that thing inside you, then I wouldn’t have to worry about you. Dale told his father about seeing a wolf the other day, and now they’re coming!”

  Her expression hardened. “Who’s coming?”

  He threw his hands up in frustration. The damn girl never listened to anything he told her. “Anthony’s coming. They’re all coming. To hunt. It’s the full moon tonight, and if you don’t stay in the basement where you belong, then there’s nothing I can do to keep you safe.”

  Bailey balled her fists and advanced on him. Her blue eyes shifted to a bright gold, and it was only then he noticed they matched. “Get out of here, Donald, before I kill you.”

  It wasn’t the woman who spoke to him, but the creature inside her. His guts turned watery, and he backed away, scrabbling behind him for the handle to open the door into his part of the house. He’d been a hunter all his life, had faced wolves and bears without a moment’s fear. It was easy when you had a gun in your hand.

  Prey.

  It gleamed in her golden gaze. And his certain death if he didn’t get out of there. Donald turned tail and ran, heart racing so hard he feared it would burst. Expecting the snap of jaws, the shard rending of claws through his flesh, he cried out in relief when the door behind him slammed shut.

  Sinking to his knees in the hallway, Donald bit back a sob. Things had slipped out of his control, and, caught between Anthony and Bailey, he didn’t think it likely he would survive the coming night.

  Chapter Eight

  Not certain whether Dale would show up or not after Bailey’s tirade of threats, Connor rode directly to the worksite. He unpacked his kit, reviewed his work from the day before, and polished off his take-out coffee from the diner as he waited for the rest of the crew. One thing his father had drummed into him, never start work alone. Didn’t matter how well you knew your tools, or if you’d carried out the same task a thousand times, accidents could happen to the most skilled of tradesmen.

  Sitting on the front step of the building, he watched the sunrise, enjoying the calm before the storm. Trouble brewed. He could scent it in the air, feel it in his bones. The wolf stirred uneasily inside him. Full moon tonight meant they would finally meet their mate in her other form. When she’d declared her acceptance of them last night, the creature inside him had howled in triumph, pressed him to seal their claim. The man knew better.

  Bailey needed to find her wolf in her own time, in her own way. Not through the mating bond. Regardless of how much he ached for their final connection, he wanted her strong, healthy, and whole. His wolf would override hers if it could, forcing her to obey whatever he decided was best for her to be safe. Their beautiful girl would wither under such dominance. She needed a mate, not a master. The wolf snarled in his head, and he mentally flipped it off.

  A truck engine rumbled in the distance, distracting him from his internal duel. The wolf stretched just beneath his skin, knowing their enemy approached.

  Dale flung himself from the truck, greasy hair flying. He marched to where Connor sat, stopping a few feet away, waiting for the rest of the crew to form up behind him. The damn fool stood too close. The tips of Connor’s fingers itched—they could have his throat in seconds. Patience.

  Ignoring Dale, he studied the men ranged at his back. Young Tommy looked over-excited, as usual. The weak link of the group, he’d follow the strongest person around. Brian and Walt kept their heads down and their mouths shut, although Brian chafed more under Dale’s control than he let on.

  “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Burrows,” Dale yelled, fisting his hands at his sides.

  Tommy snickered, a nervous tic rather than a sign of amusement. Connor ignored him, too. Brian took a small step to the right, distancing himself from Dale, although Connor couldn’t tell whether the action was a conscious move. He smelled calm, a little bored even.

  Rising to his feet, he gave his back to the men. The worst insult a wolf could give. You’re no threat to me. “I’ll carry on in the bathroom. Should be able to get the rest of the tile completed.”

  “Where the hell d’ya think you’re going?” Only one set of boots scuffed behind him, pausing when Dale realized he was on his own. Connor looked back, saw Brian’s restraining hand on Tommy’s arm, and nodded to him. Walt shouldered his tool bag, shoving the keys to the truck in his pocket.

  Brian released the kid, and Walt grabbed him, steering him toward the rear of the extension. “Come on, this ain’t our business.” The older man led the youngster out of view.

  “I took a call from the boss this morning, Dale.” The foreman swung around when Brian spoke. The quiet man stepped forward, frowning. “She told me some things I can’t rightly believe. Mac Johnson’s a cousin on my mama’s side. His wife’s been in and out of the hospital for the past few months, and you’re stealing from him?” He shook his head in d
isbelief.

  “Shut up, Brian! You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “Go home, Dale. This is my crew now.” Brian looked up to where Connor waited in the doorway. “I told Ms. Clarke we’ll manage a man light today. She’s going to give Bill a call and see if he’ll sign back with us.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” Connor stepped inside the building.

  “That bitch! She’ll pay for this!” Dale screamed. The anger in his tone rose to a shriek of fear when two hundred pounds of furious man landed on his back. Connor took him to the ground, knees in his kidneys, one meaty palm wrapped in his greasy hair.

  Holding Dale’s face in the dirt without strain, he lowered his face to whisper in his ear. “Touch her and I’ll gut you. By the time I’m done, there won’t be enough of you left to fill a shoebox, never mind a casket.” The acrid tang of urine filled the air, and he snarled in disgust.

  Dale’s hands and feet scrabbled on the ground, making a fucked-up dirt angel. “Get off me. Get off me.” He sobbed, tears and snot streaking his cheeks.

  “Be still.” The wolf presence in his command silenced the human instantly. “Stay away from Bailey. Don’t look at her, don’t speak to her, don’t even think about her.” He flowed from the man’s back then flipped him over with a kick in the ribs. A muddy, wet patch coated the front of Dale’s pants. He panted hard, a green bubble of snot blowing from one nostril. Connor pulled a clean cotton square from his pocket and dropped it on his chest. “Wipe your face, for fuck’s sake.”

  Dale scrubbed his wet cheeks, blew his nose, and took a deep, shuddering breath. “What am I supposed to do now?” he called to Connor’s retreating back.

  “Do I look like I give a shit? Get out of here before I lose my temper.” The wooden steps of the porch creaked under his boots as he strode back into the extension.

  Brian made a good attempt at looking busy, brandishing a measure, attention on a new stud wall. A nervous thread teased through his scent.