The Burning Claw
Page 55
She climbed out of bed, realizing that she didn’t want to be braless and in her pajamas when she faced Drake, so she gathered up some clothes and headed into the bathroom.
Just as she was combing out her freshly blow-dried hair, Bethany heard a knock on the bedroom door.
“Bethany?” Drake’s deep voice rumbled through the door. Hearing it caused chills to race up and down her body. “I know you’re still angry, but I need to see you. I need to see that you are…okay.” He paused and then growled. “Please.”
Letting out a resigned sigh, she walked over to the door. “I’m going to open the door, Drake. No touching.”
He growled at her and she couldn’t help the smile. He was like a kid who’d had his toy taken away.
Bethany unlocked the door and then pulled it open. Drake stood only a foot away, looking as though he hadn’t slept at all. His eyes took in every inch of her greedily, and Bethany had to force herself not to fidget under his scrutiny. When his eyes finally met hers, she saw that they were glowing.
“Are you alright?” he asked her, his voice guttural and dark.
“I think the better question is, are you alright?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed. “No, I am not alright.”
Okay, so he wasn’t going to beat around the bush. Fine. She could be just as blunt as he was.
“Who’s fault is that?” she asked as she folded her arms in front of her and leaned her hip against the door jam.
He dropped his head and his shoulders seemed to sag as though the weight of the world had been laid upon them. “Will you just let me hold you? Please.”
Bethany fought the urge to scream Yes! at him and throw her arms around him. She was going to have more dignity than that. She also wasn’t going to admit that it was taking something akin to a miracle to keep herself on the opposite side of the doorway. As soon as she’d opened the door and laid eyes on him, she realized just how much she missed him. She didn’t like being away from him, not even for one night. She hated that she’d gone to bed alone, without anyone to tell her goodnight, like she’d done so many times during her captivity. She hated that the sound of soft breaths coming from the other room hadn’t been the sound that helped her drift safely off to sleep.
“Dammit, female! I can feel your need as strongly as my own. You can’t keep something like that from seeping through the bond. And my wolf can smell it on you—your desire, anguish, regret, and fear. Why do you continue this nonsense? Why are you torturing us both?” He was on one knee now. His forearm across his thigh as he leaned forward, resting his other hand on the ground to support himself.
“Nonsense?” she asked slowly. “You think how I feel about something is nonsense?”
“That’s not what I said, Bethany. Don’t twist my words.”
Bethany clenched her hands into fists at her sides and snarled as she stomped her right foot. “It is not nonsense, Drake. You hurt me. You refused to listen to me. You yelled at me and threw a lamp.”
“I didn’t throw it at you,” he grumbled.
“I didn’t say you did. But throwing objects is not something that will be a part of our fights.”
“Well if that’s the case, then our Alpha female didn’t rub off on you too much,” he said as he raised his head and looked up at her.
“Jen didn’t live in violence for eleven years,” she answered coolly. “She hasn’t been bitten almost daily, struck repeatedly, and thrown about like an old ragdoll. If you feel like you are getting angry enough to throw things, then I need you to walk away for a while.”
“Bethany, you threatened to seek out another male.” Drake surged to his feet, energy suddenly infusing him.
She nodded. “You’re right, I did, and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the effect those words would have.”
He stared at her open mouthed. He hadn’t been expecting the apology.
“It seems we have some things we need to talk about.” Bethany walked past him, and from the corner of her eye she saw his face cringe as though he was in pain. She must have gotten too close. She went straight for the kitchen, her stomach growling. She’d had nothing but hot chocolate the night before. Drake’s eyes were on her the entire length of the suite and he stalked her like the predator he was.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him over her shoulder as she reached for two glasses from the cabinet. She heard a grunt and took that as an affirmative. Bethany didn’t know how to cook. Her meals, if you could call them that, had been provided by the monsters. She could only recall being able to make one thing before she’d been captured—peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So she went to work searching out a butter knife and bread before hunting the peanut butter (crunchy) and the jelly.
Thankful she’d found everything she needed, Bethany made them both a sandwich and poured them each a glass of milk. When she turned to take Drake his plate, she had to take a step backward to keep from bumping into him.
“Here,” she said, thrusting the plate at him and the glass. He’d rattled her, though she didn’t think that was his intention. As Drake took the offered breakfast, Bethany paused long enough to look at Drake’s face. She saw then that Drake, the man, was not the one in control. His wolf had taken over.
Calmly, she turned and grabbed her own plate and drink from the counter. She walked over to the breakfast table and eased into a chair. Instead of sitting across from her, Drake took the seat right beside her. He was careful not to touch her, but he got as close to her as the magic would allow.
“So do you talk when your wolf is in control?” she asked before taking a bite of the sandwich.
“Mine,” Drake growled as he continued to stare at her.
“Okay,” Bethany said as she watched Drake sniff his sandwich. “One syllable words will have to do.”
“Touch,” Drake huffed as he reached his hand out to her but quickly pulled it back before reaching her arm. He snarled but she knew it wasn’t at her. He was snarling at the magic that kept him from her.
When his glowing eyes rose to hers once more, Bethany’s heart nearly stopped at the emotion that poured out of those eyes.
“Hurt,” he grumbled at her.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she practically whispered. “I need your touch too. I need—” she breathed out as she attempted to get control of her emotions. “I need you to believe me when I say that I know what I want and what I need. I may have gone into that coven as a little girl but I emerged as a grown woman.”
Just as she was combing out her freshly blow-dried hair, Bethany heard a knock on the bedroom door.
“Bethany?” Drake’s deep voice rumbled through the door. Hearing it caused chills to race up and down her body. “I know you’re still angry, but I need to see you. I need to see that you are…okay.” He paused and then growled. “Please.”
Letting out a resigned sigh, she walked over to the door. “I’m going to open the door, Drake. No touching.”
He growled at her and she couldn’t help the smile. He was like a kid who’d had his toy taken away.
Bethany unlocked the door and then pulled it open. Drake stood only a foot away, looking as though he hadn’t slept at all. His eyes took in every inch of her greedily, and Bethany had to force herself not to fidget under his scrutiny. When his eyes finally met hers, she saw that they were glowing.
“Are you alright?” he asked her, his voice guttural and dark.
“I think the better question is, are you alright?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed. “No, I am not alright.”
Okay, so he wasn’t going to beat around the bush. Fine. She could be just as blunt as he was.
“Who’s fault is that?” she asked as she folded her arms in front of her and leaned her hip against the door jam.
He dropped his head and his shoulders seemed to sag as though the weight of the world had been laid upon them. “Will you just let me hold you? Please.”
Bethany fought the urge to scream Yes! at him and throw her arms around him. She was going to have more dignity than that. She also wasn’t going to admit that it was taking something akin to a miracle to keep herself on the opposite side of the doorway. As soon as she’d opened the door and laid eyes on him, she realized just how much she missed him. She didn’t like being away from him, not even for one night. She hated that she’d gone to bed alone, without anyone to tell her goodnight, like she’d done so many times during her captivity. She hated that the sound of soft breaths coming from the other room hadn’t been the sound that helped her drift safely off to sleep.
“Dammit, female! I can feel your need as strongly as my own. You can’t keep something like that from seeping through the bond. And my wolf can smell it on you—your desire, anguish, regret, and fear. Why do you continue this nonsense? Why are you torturing us both?” He was on one knee now. His forearm across his thigh as he leaned forward, resting his other hand on the ground to support himself.
“Nonsense?” she asked slowly. “You think how I feel about something is nonsense?”
“That’s not what I said, Bethany. Don’t twist my words.”
Bethany clenched her hands into fists at her sides and snarled as she stomped her right foot. “It is not nonsense, Drake. You hurt me. You refused to listen to me. You yelled at me and threw a lamp.”
“I didn’t throw it at you,” he grumbled.
“I didn’t say you did. But throwing objects is not something that will be a part of our fights.”
“Well if that’s the case, then our Alpha female didn’t rub off on you too much,” he said as he raised his head and looked up at her.
“Jen didn’t live in violence for eleven years,” she answered coolly. “She hasn’t been bitten almost daily, struck repeatedly, and thrown about like an old ragdoll. If you feel like you are getting angry enough to throw things, then I need you to walk away for a while.”
“Bethany, you threatened to seek out another male.” Drake surged to his feet, energy suddenly infusing him.
She nodded. “You’re right, I did, and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the effect those words would have.”
He stared at her open mouthed. He hadn’t been expecting the apology.
“It seems we have some things we need to talk about.” Bethany walked past him, and from the corner of her eye she saw his face cringe as though he was in pain. She must have gotten too close. She went straight for the kitchen, her stomach growling. She’d had nothing but hot chocolate the night before. Drake’s eyes were on her the entire length of the suite and he stalked her like the predator he was.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him over her shoulder as she reached for two glasses from the cabinet. She heard a grunt and took that as an affirmative. Bethany didn’t know how to cook. Her meals, if you could call them that, had been provided by the monsters. She could only recall being able to make one thing before she’d been captured—peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So she went to work searching out a butter knife and bread before hunting the peanut butter (crunchy) and the jelly.
Thankful she’d found everything she needed, Bethany made them both a sandwich and poured them each a glass of milk. When she turned to take Drake his plate, she had to take a step backward to keep from bumping into him.
“Here,” she said, thrusting the plate at him and the glass. He’d rattled her, though she didn’t think that was his intention. As Drake took the offered breakfast, Bethany paused long enough to look at Drake’s face. She saw then that Drake, the man, was not the one in control. His wolf had taken over.
Calmly, she turned and grabbed her own plate and drink from the counter. She walked over to the breakfast table and eased into a chair. Instead of sitting across from her, Drake took the seat right beside her. He was careful not to touch her, but he got as close to her as the magic would allow.
“So do you talk when your wolf is in control?” she asked before taking a bite of the sandwich.
“Mine,” Drake growled as he continued to stare at her.
“Okay,” Bethany said as she watched Drake sniff his sandwich. “One syllable words will have to do.”
“Touch,” Drake huffed as he reached his hand out to her but quickly pulled it back before reaching her arm. He snarled but she knew it wasn’t at her. He was snarling at the magic that kept him from her.
When his glowing eyes rose to hers once more, Bethany’s heart nearly stopped at the emotion that poured out of those eyes.
“Hurt,” he grumbled at her.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she practically whispered. “I need your touch too. I need—” she breathed out as she attempted to get control of her emotions. “I need you to believe me when I say that I know what I want and what I need. I may have gone into that coven as a little girl but I emerged as a grown woman.”
