But not like this. Not like some trophy in a contest. He kissed her deeper, tasting huckleberries and sweetness. Figured. She was a treat he’d never tire of, and he wanted all of her. His dick went rock hard, and fire roared through his chest.
He forced himself to slow down before he lost control entirely. That edge was always there, the part of him that took what he wanted and justified it later. He wouldn’t let that part touch her. So he broke the kiss, leaning back, his hands gentling on her arms. “I will never force you to mate. Won’t let anybody do that. I give you that vow now.”
She gulped, her lips swollen and her eyes wide. “I agreed to this, Caidrik.”
“Don’t care.” And he didn’t. The old him, the one who hunted and killed, was dead. This was a new beginning for him, and he wanted to be the good guy. Sometimes good guys destroyed people when their family, their pack, was threatened. He could do that. He would. For the right female and the right pack.
The one on his lap represented both. “I’ll kill the other three challengers, but after that, I’m killing only in defense.” It was a promise he figured he’d better make to her. To them both. “You need to know that I’ve been a mercenary my entire life. Never really killed anybody good, though.” He wanted her to feel safe with him. “But I also won’t lie to you. We will be mated and we’ll have a good life. Once you choose me.” And she would. He’d make sure of it.
Her gaze dropped to his lips and then lifted, those dark eyes unfathomable. “You’re very arrogant.”
“It’s good you’re seeing me.” Might as well let all of his flaws show. He’d wandered most of his life, and he wanted a home. A place to belong and protect. “I think you’re beautiful.”
A fascinating peach hue filled her cheeks.
His female was a blusher. He liked that. A lot.
Then his stomach turned.
The tea.
An image slammed into him without warning. Nadia with a delicate teacup in her hands. He’d been seconds, maybe minutes, away from losing her without ever touching her at all. What if she’d taken a sip of the poisoned tea? What if she was the body being held in the snow, waiting for a fiery funeral?
He cut the thought off, took her mouth again, taking them both under. She kissed him back with a small sound of surrender in the back of her throat. He tried to end his thoughts, but even as he felt her softness against him, the beast inside him fought to take her. To end this problem and find new ones…with his mate.
He hated that part of himself. Hated how clean the solution felt. Kill the threat. Claim what mattered. Move on. Even more strongly, he truly hated the contest. Hated the rules. Hated that a pack could dress murder up as tradition and sleep at night. He’d grown up under rules like that. That type of organization needed to be destroyed.
Nadia didn’t belong anywhere near it.
She was sharp and stubborn and way too willing to carry a weight that wasn’t hers. The idea of her collapsing on the floor like the others made his gut clench. If that had happened, there wouldn’t have been rules left to argue about.
He released her mouth and licked along her jawline.
She moaned and ran her hands over his torso. He’d never felt anything better. God, he wanted her. Had for what felt like eons. But before now, he was only a killer without a pack, and he figured she deserved better. Then Bulwark had made a move, and Nadia had become a damn trophy. Caidrik couldn’t let anybody else claim her.
Good enough for her or not, he was her future now. Unable to stop himself, he slid the straps of her camisole down her arms, letting his calloused fingers trail across her clavicle and down the sides of her breasts, kissing her thoroughly. Completely. Pouring as much of himself into her as he could.
He barely had time to register the sound before instinct took over.
The door burst open, and he jumped up, putting himself between her and danger.
Bussy Bluebird stood in the doorway wearing a long white nightgown, her hair in curlers, with a baseball bat in her gnarled hands.
Nadia yelped and scrambled backward across the bed, ducking under the covers far too late to be effective. She dragged the blankets up to her neck, her fingers fumbling at the straps on her shoulders as heat flooded her face. Had she just flashed Bussy?
Bussy stood in the doorway, staring at both of them. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered the baseball bat. The tip struck the hardwood floor with a sharp thwack that echoed through the room. “What in all that is holy are you two doing?” She planted one hand on her hip and shook her head.
Nadia squinted closer, confusion cutting through embarrassment. Something was wrong with the woman’s face. Oh. Cream. Thick white blotches were smeared everywhere, even into her hairline. It clung to her temples and dotted the edges of her ancient-looking curlers, which made the whole thing somehow worse. “We weren’t doing anything,” Nadia blurted.
Bussy’s gaze snapped back to her, unimpressed. “You know the rules.” She turned her head toward Caidrik. “So do you. All canoodling needs to happen during the trials. Not outside of them.”
Canoodling? Seriously? Nadia wanted to hide her face in a pillow.
Caidrik’s head jerked toward her. “Wait a minute. What?”
Nadia hauled the covers up almost to her neck and pulled her knees in. “Don’t ask me. I didn’t write the rules.”
Caidrik shifted his attention to Bussy, his posture straightening. “Explain,” he said, the Alpha threading through his voice clear and strong.
