Lone Wolf
Page 13

 Jennifer Ashley

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
They walked back across the ridge and down to the park, Ellison’s hand steadying her. A few humans they passed did a double-take at the polar bear cub romping after butterflies, though most people who used this park knew that it lay close to Shiftertown and had grown used to Maria walking with cubs out here.
Ellison was silent as they wound through the park and walked down the few blocks to Shiftertown. Olaf ran ahead of them through the open gates. He spied another cub in a yard down the street and charged to him, the little wolf rising to meet him.
Maria started a few steps after Olaf, but a Shifter woman came out onto her porch, laughing at the two cubs, and calling a greeting to Olaf. Everyone knew Olaf, and everyone liked him. Olaf and the wolf started a mock wrestling match, Olaf none the worse for his ordeal.
Ellison pulled Maria to a halt in the shade of a tall live oak, the tree screening them from most of the houses. His fingers were warm on her shoulder, but firm. He wanted her to stay there.
“You had a flashback in that culvert, didn’t you?” Ellison watched her, knowing the truth, but willing her to tell him.
Maria evaded his gaze. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I think you need to talk about it a little.” Ellison touched her chin. “You know you don’t need to be afraid anymore, Maria. No one will hurt you, or make you do anything you don’t want to. And not just because the Morrisseys say so. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll break all their fingers if they even try.”
He meant it. She’d seen how he’d been with Broderick last night—ready to kill the other wolf. But Maria could never know what to say to Ellison when he was being gentle and helpful. The only thing she could think of was, “You are all so kind to me.”
“Hey, it’s not kindness, sweetheart. At least not from me.” Ellison’s touch went to her cheek, the caress light.
Warmth spread down through her chest. Maria tried to speak, to explain, but her lips couldn’t form the words. She still struggled to think in English, and Ellison didn’t know much Spanish.
“You’re here, Maria. Safe.” Ellison traced her cheek, increasing the warmth. “Not in the dark anymore. You don’t need to be afraid. And if you are afraid, you come to me.”
Maria managed a smile. “And you’ll make it all better?”
“I want to.”
He leaned closer, and Maria’s back met the bole of the big tree. Ellison smelled of sweat and a small bite of blood, and of himself. The feral Shifters—all of them—had always stank. Ellison smelled of warmth and goodness.
Maria turned her face up to him, rising on tiptoe to offer the kiss she wanted to give him. She couldn’t think of words, but she could show him with this.
She found herself caught hard against Ellison’s bare chest, his hand snaking under her braid, he leaning into her. His mouth fit clumsily to hers, his lips moving before Maria was ready. Their teeth bumped, and Ellison lifted away, laughing a little, his eyes full of heat.
“Shifters don’t kiss much,” he said. “At least, I don’t.”
There hadn’t been much kissing in the feral pack either. No tenderness, not even between the males and females who’d cared for each other.
“Nuzzling, yes.” Ellison leaned to her again, his nose touching her cheek, his breath warm. “I guess when you have a lot of nose, you tend to use it.”
Maria wanted to laugh. No, not to laugh. To go quiet while he nuzzled her cheekbone.
“I never kissed much either,” she said. When Luis had wooed her in the moonlight, before she’d known he was a Shifter, she hadn’t kissed him.
This was new to her, as was Ellison’s gentleness. Luis had charmed her with his dangerousness, exciting to a naive and sheltered young woman like Maria. Ellison mitigated his strength for her, showing her he’d never let loose and hurt her.
“We can learn together,” Ellison said, breath against her lips.
Maria formed an unpracticed pucker, her blood warming as Ellison responded with light pressure. His hand, shirt still dangling from it, went to the tree, his lips firming against her mouth.
Maria felt the strength of his entire body through the kiss, like a hum in the air between them as Ellison licked softly across her lips. She tasted salt and coffee on him, and a bite of himself.
She clenched her hands at her sides. She could barely breathe, nothing existing but Ellison’s lips connecting with hers, his mouth tenderly prying hers open, his fingers working under her braid, loosening it.
Another kiss, another slide of his tongue between her lips. Maria flicked her tongue over his in answer, the velvet heat of it stealing her breath.
She should be afraid. She’d been afraid for such a long time. Ellison stood over her, his body against hers, pinning her with his mouth, his presence, himself. Maria should be afraid and want to duck away from him, to run, but she stayed, letting her hand steal to his chest.
She warmed as she contacted the smooth heat of his bare skin, the wiry curls that dusted his chest. She found his heartbeat, his heart drumming as rapidly as hers.
Maria slid her hand up to his neck, feeling the Collar around his throat, the raw skin it had burned. He’d been hurt, while he’d fought for Olaf, but he hadn’t stopped until Olaf was safe. She didn’t understand the whole story of what had happened inside the culvert, but she was too full of Ellison’s taste and warmth to break away and ask.
He laced his fingers through her hair, caressing her neck as he deepened the kiss. Heat, sunlight, everything that was good and warm—Ellison.
Ellison slid his hand down her neck to her back, the other still supporting him against the tree, the softness of his dangling shirt brushing her shoulder. Maria leaned into his embrace, the sweetness of his kiss unknotting her stomach. She flowed into comfort, into wanting.
A small growl sounded, then air whooshed by her. Ellison broke the kiss, his legs bending as the whirlwind of Olaf smacked the backs of his knees.
“Hey.” Ellison turned around, his big hand still steady against Maria. He’d never let her fall.
Olaf shook himself like a dog and rose up into the form of a small boy with white hair and dark eyes. “I’m hungry!”
Maria sucked in a breath, the taste of Ellison lingering and heady. “You already had breakfast, Olaf.”
“But I want pancakes. Can we go see Sean? Where’s Tiger?”