Mating Brand
Page 19

It had been difficult, picturing his Charma out in the world living without him. He’d imagined her many times—mated, with kids. It had tortured his soul. It had bothered him, thinking she might be happier with someone else but he’d never considered that she’d been forced into a hellish nightmare of shifter politics. She’d been traded by her parents to the pride leader’s son. He understood their motives but it enraged him. He’d rather die than hand any child, even a grown one, over to someone to abuse.
Do her parents know how she was treated? He shoved that thought back. He’d kill them himself if they had stood back and allowed it to happen. His rage continued to build. They had to realize something was wrong. She’s lost so much damn weight. He forced his breathing to slow when he became agitated enough to pant.
I can’t mate her right now. That thought made his wolf recoil in protest. She was too thin, too weakened and probably too scared to have a male go at her the way he would if she were naked on his bed. He might accidentally hurt or frighten her. Either wasn’t an option he was willing to risk.
Most, if not all, of his resentment toward Charma for leaving him faded. She’d loved him but she’d also loved her family. He understood how far someone would go to protect blood. He hadn’t been blessed with siblings but his cousins might as well be his brothers. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for them. Charma had been put in a hellish situation and made a deal with the devil to keep her family safe. They gave my Charma to that prick.
He wished she’d told him everything in the past. He would have moved heaven and hell to bring her entire family into Harris territory. He’d probably upset her by tearing into her parents a bit over their eagerness to sacrifice her future for their own but younger siblings were involved. He hated to admit it but he could see why they’d do it. It wasn’t something he agreed with but if she’d just been honest, he could have prevented them from making the choice they had.
His uncle would have agreed to accept Charma’s family into the pack but his aunt would have gone on a rampage. He winced, remembering what she’d done to Anton’s mate. Aunt Eve was the reason a bunch of feline shifters were about to attack the pack. She’d put her own son’s mate in danger because she’d been desperate to be rid of a she-cat.
He and his cousins had rescued Shannon from the fate Eve had tried to deal her. There was no telling what underhanded thing his aunt would have attempted to do to Charma and her family if he’d moved them into the territory. It no longer mattered though. Eve wasn’t a problem since she’d been banished from the pack but in the past she could have posed a deadly threat.
Either way, they couldn’t change history. Charma was in his bathroom showering. He wanted to claim her but it wasn’t going to be easy or fast. The son of a bitch she’d been forced to submit to had done damage. She needed time to heal and get to know him again in order to feel totally safe in taking a new mate. His wolf didn’t agree, too eager to claim her. It was hard to control the urge since the animal was too close to the surface to be pushed back.
“Goddamn heat,” he ground out.
He’d never be able to keep totally in control of his body if she were naked in his arms. He was man enough to know his limitations and loved her enough to admit he posed a real danger to her in his condition. Males in heat weren’t known for their gentleness or their ability to contain the lust that overcame them during sex. She could take him in the past but he wasn’t so certain about now.
He smiled at the memories of Charma from their time together. She’d been a tough little thing, aggressive as hell in heat and she could give as good as she got. He’d never worried about crushing her or accidently snapping something. She’d had generous curves, meat on those bones, and the plushest ass he’d ever had the pleasure of pounding against when he’d taken her.
His dick chose that moment to painfully throb as if it had a heartbeat. If it weren’t for the thick jeans, it would be pointing straight out. His balls began to ache and he groaned.
“Goddamn it,” he hissed between still-clenched teeth. “I’m going to die.” He nodded at his reflection. “I’m never going to survive having her under my roof, smelling her and wanting her.”
He kicked off his shoes, denting a cabinet in his haste to get the things off, and jerked open the front of his pants. He hadn’t bothered with underwear and his cock sprang free. It barely eased the pain as he shoved the material down his legs. He nearly tore off the glass shower door to get inside the stall. He turned on the cold water and it blasted his body, shocking chill taking his breath. He stood there, endured it, but it didn’t do a thing to his lower half.
“Fuck.”
He reached for the body wash, dumped a handful into his palm and leaned back against the wall. He fisted his shaft, turned his hips enough to avoid the water and squeezed his fingers around his swollen cock. His eyes closed as Charma’s image filled his head. He frantically moved his hand from the base of his dick to the head, applying enough pressure and pace to feel really good. He imagined he was inside her again.
He braced his legs, threw back his head and sealed his lips. He’d never forget how damn tight Charma had been, how wet and hot. Her muscles squeezed him better than his fist ever could. Then there were the sounds she always made when he fucked her hard and fast.
His Charma had always purred for him, urged him on, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips. She had a habit of raking her nails down his spine until she could grab his ass and pull his hips even tighter against her soft thighs. He’d feel her climax. She always screamed out his name, her pussy tightening around him as she trembled from her release. He groaned as he came. Streams of semen shot from the tip of his cock as pleasure gripped him. His hips bucked from the intensity and the pain disappeared.
He panted, opened his eyes and stared at the tile wall opposite him that he’d just decorated. His hand eased off his cock—it had barely softened—and he turned into the water to wash off the soap. He dunked his head, shook it, and reached for the body wash again.
Great. That will last me for a little while before it starts again. He scrubbed his body to wash away the dried sweat from fighting and reached up to grasp the removable showerhead. He rinsed away all traces that he’d jacked off inside the stall as he washed down the tile. He replaced the showerhead, turned off the water and pushed open the glass door.