“Then no, you don’t get to know what I am yet.” He swallowed back a groan of pleasure as her blunt little nails began to scrape lightly at his scalp. “Mykone,you have no idea how this soothes me.”
Her breath hitched. “I… I find it soothing, too.”
A grin creased his cheeks. “Tell me what your instincts say now.”
“That you are still dangerous. That you are a predator.” There was a lengthy pause. Her fingers never stopped moving, though, as she gathered her courage. “But also that touching you is… right. That you trustme.It’s overwhelming.”
“Do you want to stop?”
Those restless fingers curled into his hair and held fast, making his scalp tingle and his cock jerk. Otto’s hips twitched, desperate to move.Gods save me.
“No,” she answered, voice slightly strangled. “No, I do not want to.”
His words came out slightly choked when he replied, “Whatever else you are,kone,you are without a doubt a submissive.”
“Does that mean I’m weak?” She sounded troubled, as if being soft in a world as cruel as theirs was not an act of profound bravery, but one of shame.
“Weak?” If wasn’t worried he’d startle her, Otto would have reared his head around to give her the look that word deserved. “What weakness? You felt the animal’s fear of death and you came to me anyway. What great bravery that took,kone,I cannot imagine.”
He thought he heard the faintest sniffle. “I don’t feel very brave.”
“I should think that if you did, you would not need to be so brave in the first place.”
A shuddering breath escaped her. “Will you explain to me what it means to be submissive — even though I’m not a shifter?”
Otto would have given anything to be free to clutch her to him then. “It means,” he began, voice rough with feeling, “you are cherished. That you bring joy and warmth to those who are lucky to meet you. That you are soft, and provide a home to those of us who are not. It means you have needs that are different from mine, yes, but that’s not a flaw. It means that it is my job to see you taken care of.”
There was the rustle of skirts. Her hands disappeared, but before he could panic — or begin to beg — Otto was stunned to feel a silken cheek between his shoulder blades. Gradually, in the smallest increments, Josephine leaned her body into his, her arms tucked against his back and her form huddled against him.
She wasn’t clutching him, but rather curled up against him, limbs held tight between their bodies. It was as if she hoped to melt into his back if she pressed close enough.
“This feels like care,” she whispered. Otto felt some great shift inside of him, followed by the shock of a fissure opening up in the foundation of his being — a monumental movement of his sense of self, his heart, his priorities.Everything.
“Can I stay here a while?”
Otto slowly lowered his hands into his lap and leaned backward a few inches, giving her a more comfortable spot to lay her weight. “As long as you need,kone.”
“Thank you.” There was a world of hurt in that simple phrase.
Thank you?Otto squeezed his eyes shut and counted backward from one hundred. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from telling her there was no reason to thank him.
The fact that this was so remarkable to her was disturbing. Had she never known a hug? A gentle combing of her hair? Was her whole life an endless parade of violence and threats?
Rage boiled almost as hot as the fever. If he hadn’t been chained, Otto was certain he would have shifted and hunted down the wretched man she called a father already.I’ll do it,he promised both himself and the animal.I’ll rip his fucking throat out.
And then he’d take his mate somewhere far away, deep into the wilderness, where no one could ever touch her again.
At last, when he had his temper more under control, he began,“Kone,how you’ve been treated isnothow things—Kone?”
It took him a moment to realize that his mate had drifted off to sleep.
ChapterSeventeen
An excerptfrom the diaries of Josephine Wyeth, generously provided by the Wyeth-Beornson family to the Fairmont Museum of Art:
November 13th, 1870-
I have spent a day with a shifter. I don’t know his name. He is blond and powerfully made. I am terrified of his nearness, let alone his attention.
