Chosen One (Forever Evermore #6)(69)

I placed my finger over his lips this time, leaning a bit with the action. “As you’ve said…I’m a bit possessive, so don’t go threatening him.” My tiger huffed quietly. “I’m the only one that can do that.” That…was the truth, but…he was being damn adorable going all I’m-the-baddest-wolf-on-the-block, so I leaned a bit more and kissed the corner of his mouth softly, and felt him go predatory still at the touch. “But, yes, I believe it would be one hell of a battle between you two.”

He leaned a bit…just a smidge…keeping my mouth pressed to the corner of his, and he murmured, “I’d win.”

My lips curved. “God, I wish you hadn’t been such an uncaring asshole.”

“And I wish you were a wolf,” he stated just as gently, and then paused. “Hell, I’d even take you as a damn bird…and that’s fucking saying something.”

I tilted my head, and did what I wanted, stroking his lips full on, but very softly, still hurt…still so full of hate. “What’s wrong with a bird?” But, God, his lips were so damn perfect.

His wolf made a damn…huffing-growl-purr sound that had my libido thumping in time to my heartbeat as I stroked his unmoving lips again, and he spoke against my mouth, again pressing into the touch, but not adding to it. “They sometimes squawk during intimacies, just like my wolf growls.”

“Mmm, I agree,” my brows lifted, “that would be awkward.” I kissed him once more, and paused, faltering, holding my mouth against his when he cautiously kissed me back, the very softest of brushes. Air rushed past my lips, fucking grateful I wasn’t completely alone in this, and I pressed my lips to his more firmly, my eyes closing with the motion, not wanting to do any more than this, not after everything between us, and also, not after the horrible first day on the job as the Chosen I’d had. Our last joining had been heady, but these delicate touches were intoxicating as his plush lips pressed against mine more firmly, stroking my lips in a tender caress. I pressed even more firmly for a moment, holding my lips there, just being in this soft moment with him…Cain…him without an agenda I reviled, without his detest for relations outside his kind…just us…well, it was really nice. Peaceful, almost.

His hand cupped my cheek softly as our mouths melded so damn seamlessly, his thumb brushing over my jaw in soft strokes, his breath shuddering a bit against my mouth before he nipped delicately on my bottom lip, tugging it softly. “This changes nothing. You’re still a spirit bitch to me.”

“Agreed, she says to the uncaring asshole.” I chuckled against his lips, my mouth caressing, stroking his again with my words. “As I said, we love to hate one another.” Currently, there was no other way for us, both of us feeling…too much. I stroked his lips once more, his mouth, supple and soft brushing mine before pulling back gently, staring into navy blue eyes an inch from my own. “At least we’re being honest with each other now.”

Black brows lifted the barest bit. “That, we are.” His lips twitched. “And if I’m completely honest, I’d have to say your Vizoac’s seriously the most screwed up I’ve ever known.”

I blinked, and then glanced down. I stared. Isolde was lying on her back…on his lap…snuggling between my feet and his bare, rippled stomach…snoring softly. “Oh.” She looked damn cute. “She’s comfortable.”

His thumb brushed once more over my jaw before he lowered his hand, and his gaze, from my face, and with an extremely tentative motion, he used one finger to gently rub her belly. She woke, and he froze completely, but she only lifted her head, sniffed his finger…then dropped her head back, and not even a second later, she was snoring again. “Yeah,” his wolf huffed quietly, even as he started petting her again, “seriously the most screwed up one I’ve seen so far.”

“Hush,” I muttered, resting back against the couch, situating the blanket so he had some. “I want to watch the movie now, not listen to you make fun on my Vizoac.”

He grunted, but he carefully, and slowly, lifted her sleeping tiny body as he pulled the blanket over his legs, scooting down on the loveseat, and I quickly moved my almost empty plate to the arm of it when he pressed more of his upper body against my chest, resting the back of his head against my shoulder and neck, placing Isolde on his massive chest, then gently pulled the blanket up over them, so only her tiny head peeked out. His soft curls were tickling my cheek and his heavy muscled weight could have definitely been distributed differently, but I didn’t utter a word of complaint, not wanting to ruin this stolen moment as we began watching the movie in—what felt like—peaceful silence.

And, I realized…my mind had calmed while in his presence.





Chapter Fifteen

During training the next morning I could tell Elder Merrick was tired.

He was back to being an Elder asshole in front of the others, his tone frigid again—although it wasn’t as bad as the previous day—and he repeatedly kicked my ass, unrepentant and merciless, never helping me stand when I lay sucking oxygen on the ground, hurting and—sometimes—bleeding. But I had seen him stifle a yawn twice. And he did this odd thing with his shoulders, not a roll like some do to relieve tension, but like a half roll/half trying to pop his back motion, which had his cotton t-shirt stretching quite nicely over his chest, which I had glared at plenty, getting irritated and pissed I still managed to notice after he, or Elder Zeller, slammed…knocked…shoved…smacked…thumped…bashed…jostled…or tripped me repeatedly onto my damn back, my own body now aching.