Wild and Free (The Three #3)(162)

Abel didn’t reply.

“You wanna call off your wolves?” Teona requested.

He felt Callum’s canine eyes on him.

“Go,” Abel said and finished, “But come back.”

The wolves whirled and exited the room.

He watched his brother’s gaze move to Abel’s mate.

“Delilah,” he said softly.

“Eyes to me,” Abel barked, and his brother cut his gaze back to him.

“I have a mate, Abel. I know you two are new, but you’ve got to know that I’m no threat,” he stated.

“So you know,” Abel returned, and Cain shook his head with apparent confusion.

“I know?” he asked.

“You know that wolves are protective of their mates. Fiercely protective,” Abel explained.

Teona shifted uncomfortably, doing this pressing closer to her man.

Cain held his brother’s eyes.

“I know,” he said softly.

“How?” Abel asked.

That was when his brother, who he’d known for less than five minutes, gutted him.

“Pop taught me.”

They’d left Abel in an alley.

But they’d kept Cain.

Instantly, Delilah slid to his front, doing it keeping herself plastered to him along the way. When she got there, she put her hands to his abs and started pushing at him gently.

She did this speaking.

“Lucien, can you see to it Cain and Teona are made comfortable? Abel and I have to have a chat.”

“Of course,” Lucien agreed.

“We’ll be back,” she went on, but seeing as he didn’t take his eyes from his brother, he only assumed she was speaking to Cain and his woman.

She kept pushing.

He didn’t budge.

“Baby, in the hall,” she urged softly.

“You knew our parents?” Abel asked his brother.

She pushed harder and was louder when she said, “Please, Abel honey, in the hall.” He opened his mouth to say something else to his brother, but Delilah fisted her hands in his shirt and her voice was ragged when she begged, “Please.”

It was her tone that got to him. He tore his eyes from his brother and looked down at his mate and saw it immediately.

This wasn’t about her pushing him to do something she wanted him to do when he wasn’t ready to do it.

This was something else.

She was suffering.

For him.

Therefore, without hesitation, he clamped an arm around her and pulled her into the hall and down to living room five. There, he walked them in and shut the door.

The instant he did, she wrapped her arms around him, pressed close, and held on tight.

“Just hold on,” she whispered into his chest.

He folded his arms around her, dropped his mouth to the top of her head, and did as told.

It took a while, but the feel of her, the smell of her, what he knew she wished desperately to give to him penetrated, and the numbness, which had invaded in order to control the fury, slid away to a stillness that he knew was fighting the fury.

“I love you,” she whispered, and the stillness became warmth that wasn’t the blaze of anger but a soothing balm so beautiful, in centuries, he’d never experienced anything like it.

He knew she loved him. She’d mostly said it.

But not straight out.

Not like that.

But she wasn’t done.

“I love the way you love your family. I love how protective you are, of me and of everyone you love. I love how into me you are. I love how you seem to be able to give me everything I need before I even know I need it. I love that you say you’re sorry straight up when you feel those words. I love that you’re beautiful to look at. I love that that beauty runs so deep, even when I have it for eternity, I know I’ll never find the end. I love the way you touch me. I love the way you smell. I love the way you dress. I love the feel of your hair. I love the sound of your laugh. I love that you’re smart. I love that you’re fierce. I love that I know I have thousands of more things I love about you, and I love that you’d stand there, holding me and listening to me, even if it took a year for me to say them.”

“Yeah, ’cause you’re tellin’ me how awesome I am,” he replied, his voice gruff, and lifted his head when hers tipped back. He caught her eyes. “Any guy would stand here for a year and listen to that.”

She kept whispering, her heart in her eyes, her love for him etched in her expression, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in two hundred years.

And he knew right to his gut that it would be the most beautiful thing he’d see for eternity.

“And I love it when you’re a smartass.”

He’d had enough. More than he could take. He’d never known beauty needed limits, but he now knew that if you took in too much, like all Delilah was giving him, you might explode.

So he had to stop her.

He did that by slanting his head and dropping his mouth to hers, drinking deep, taking all he could get.

And as usual, Delilah, his temptress, his mate, his woman, the love of his life, the only love he’d had, the only love he’d ever have, held on tight and gave him everything she had.

When he broke the kiss, he didn’t move away.

He stayed close, looking in her milky-green eyes, eyes he hoped like f*ck he’d be able to look into for eternity, and it was him who was whispering.