Big Bad Wolfie novel Chapter 45

Wolfie looked at me with golden fire in his eyes, and I immediately got defensive.

  "Oh! Don't you give me that look! You — !"

I had a whole rant ready about how he had no right to drag me anywhere, how he wasn't allowed to be mad, and how much I absolutely despise him.

. . . Then it all puffed out of existence when his lips slammed onto mine.

They came down on me hard and fast and vengeful.

My mind went so crazy it was silent.

Then all my senses came back with a resounding NO.

But I couldn't stop my hands from gripping the back of his head and forcing him impossibly closer if I tried.

Crap, he's going crazy and it's driving me crazy.

His and his wolf's scents are mingling and heating up my usually cold blooded self.

Speaking of his wolf, a.k.a Malaki, he's on the verge of breaking out.

  Wolfie's entire being is shaking. His skin feels even tighter and hotter to the touch than usual with all the muscle bulging against it. Almost like it's trying to break out.

  As much as I crave to see his wolf, I don't know if a side room of a club is the best place to unleash him.

  Also, I'm pretty sure he's the one putting most of the animalistic ideas in Wolfie's head.

Forcefully marking me, for instance.

My mind flashed back to the present, the one with Wolfie's lips on mine, when I felt one of his canines bite into my lower lip.

It made a very uncharacteristic squeak come out of my mouth that we're not going to talk about.

All anyone needs to know is that it drove him crazier.

His arms around me got more frantic in their search to feel every inch of me. I almost didn't feel it when he rammed us into a wall.

I barely registered that he set me on a counter. The only thing that truly clicked, was when he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back.

It didn't hurt, it was just very clear I wasn't going anywhere.

He started attacking my neck. My mind is going haywire.

I feel like my entire being is betraying me. The closer he gets to his mark, the more I hate him and want him off.

But at the same time, never want him to stop.

I focused on my feeble breaths for a second.

"Wait, stop," I mumbled pathetically.

Goddess, that practically sounded like a plead for more.

He surprised me by tearing himself back — of course not too far — but enough to be able to look at me. His eyes are crazy.

I know I say this a lot, but I mean it every time, his eyes are more animalistic and alight than I've ever seen them.

"Must get scents off," the sound rumbled from the back of his throat.

He went back to his open mouthed and aggressive kisses on my neck.

I couldn't stop squirming in his iron hold. I feel like I'm being set on fire.

Why is he always doing that?

Apparently he wanted me to stop squirming though, because his grip tightened almost — but not quite — painfully.

A growl tore through the air as he gritted into my ear. "Mine!"

He went back to attacking my neck, a little more aggressively.

I only panted in response.

He didn't like that.

He gripped my hair tighter and pressed me impossibly closer between the wall and him.

Now I know how peanut butter and jelly feel.

Half of me is jeally and the other half is crying with conflicting emotions.

But then he bit down on my mark and it felt like I literally just took a hit of all the best drugs.

And without the terrifying needles! How lucky.

"Mine!" He growled again loudly into my neck, and bit down even harder, demanding my full attention and a response. My tummy turned at his power move. He's trying to show me who's boss.

I'm sure I'll have a problem with it later, but I can't seem to find myself having one now.

I let out another embarrassing sound that was a mix between a squeak and a yelp.

Crap, I'm putty in his hands.

. . . Oh well, screw it.

I gave a weak nod.

"Say it!" He bellowed, removing the intoxicating torture from my mark, but not letting up on his attack on my neck.

He started working his way back up to my face.

"Yours," I panted.

His chest rumbled in approval.

Holy frick, I can't take this. He's too intoxicating and I'm too drunk on him to think straight.

"Mine," I mumbled on autopilot as I brought his lips to mine to kiss him slowly.

Somehow, my hands ended up under his shirt, and the kiss isn't slow anymore. It's back to being fast and crazed.

He went to reach under my shirt as well, but only found the knot I had tied very tightly into my shirt.

He growled in frustration at how it wasn't budging.

I found myself giggling and exploring more of his chest while he struggled.

He became even more frantic, "No fair," he whined against my lips.

I giggled even louder.

He finally got it untied and his hands dove under my shirt.

  He caressed my back and stomach and everything and it drove me mad. I don't know how I can go madder than I already am, but I somehow managed.

  After a few minutes, or hours, or days — I don't really know, or care — things started slowing down.

  I panted with my arms around his neck and stared into his beautiful swirling eyes. He stared back into mine with something that looks so close to love, it's painful.

  He rubbed my cheek with his thumb.

  There are paragraphs of unspoken words behind his eyes, but he won't let me know them. Weather it's because he doesn't know how, or he thinks it will ruin everything for him, I don't know. But I do know, I'd give everything to have him let me in, to let me see everything, not only through his eyes.

  ". . . Did you force my story out of me to hurt me?" I blurted.

  It's been gnawing at me since the kiss in my room and this ordeal brought the question to the surface.

  His eyebrows drew together. "What?"

  I looked down, "Well. . . Did you?"

His features softened and the fire in his eyes turned back to the beautiful, calm, cloudy gray. "I know I've f**ked up," he looked down, "and I know I'll keep doing it," He ran his hand through his hair, looking like he's really beating himself up inside.

I really wish I could be happy about that.

"But I promise, the only thing going through my mind when you were telling me your story was your safety." After a pause, he continued, ". . . I wanted to convince you not to come to keep you from reliving all of that. I didn't want you to be hurt," he finished as he played with a piece of my hair.

"I can handle a little pain."

  He looked back up at me with so much care and concern in his eyes, you'd think he loved me. "It didn't sound like only a little pain."

. . . Now, what do I say to that?

  He kissed me on the forehead.

  My chest tightened.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off.

". . . Wait," I looked down, "What does all this mean. . ? All this kissing, and sweet talking." I slowly looked back into his eyes. "Is something going to change?"

  Swallowing, I tried to put all the chaos in my head into words. ". . . Because I don't know how long I can take it if something doesn't," I choked out.

  I don't know why my mouth has suddenly gotten so dry. Maybe it's because of how terrified I am of the answer to this question.

He grabbed the sides of my face lightly and made me look at him. "I think you need to let that idea go. Y'know, of things changing."

I stiffened.

  "But things don't have to change for us to work," he wrapped his arms around me in a death grip, like he's afraid I'll run away.

  He's right to be afraid.

  "We just need to —"

  "No," I cut him off.

  "Maria," his voice broke as he held me even tighter.

  "Let me go," I whispered, trying to keep the moisture behind my eyes at bay.

  "Please, just —"

  "I hate you."

  That shut him up.

  Heck, that turned him off. His arms went limp around me, and his mouth fell open.

  I think I even saw his eyes turn glossy.

  Now he knows how I feel, I guess. . . And again, I can't bring myself to feel happy about it.

  I breathed in a shaky breath and blinked the tears away. "I'm gonna go," I stated dumbly as I pushed his arms off me and practically sprinted out of the room.

•••Jason's POV•••

I feel like someone just tore a hole through my heart.

  I suppose I'm the only one to blame for it though. I got myself into this.

  I got myself into trouble with Abaddon. The one person everyone told me not to do business with.

But he's so powerful, and I wanted that, for me and my pack.

I just wanted to prove myself. To prove to everyone that I can live up to what Dillan would have been.

But of course, I failed miserably.

I let Abaddon convince me to take over House Crimson so that he could get to their natural resources, sense he owns 10% of mine in exchange for help when we need it. What's Crimson's would be mine once I took it over.

I'm not so much of an idiot that I didn't realize that. But I should have wondered why he hadn't done it himself. It didn't take long for me to realize us getting an opening in their defenses was pure luck.

It literally came down to a patrol member on a bathroom break, and then a bunch of other small, lucky mishaps on their side happened. The path straight to their Master House practically fell into our laps. Especially with a small group. The rest of the worriers were just outside smelling range of the vampires, waiting for our mind-link to tell them we had captured the Pure Bloods of the House.

It was sad how willing the Master and Mistress were to give up their House in exchange for their lives.

But I'm grateful. I didn't wanna kill anyone that day.

BUT, again, here's the reason nobody else wanted to do it.

We slipped through small cracks in what I'm sure is usually a well oiled machine. If the plans I found a few days after on their whole defense system are anything to go by, we would have been screwed if things didn't go conveniently wrong for House Crimson.

Or even if they did, even if their whole defense plan still fell apart, if Maria was there, she would have fought tooth and nail for her House. I know it. Mate or not.

But I think she's starting to give it up. . .

And even if it means she'll hate me forever, at least I can keep her safe from Abaddon by making sure he gets what he wants.

After taking a final shaky breath, I stepped out of the room and subconsciously started searching for Maria.

I found her in an interesting place.

She was talking on a public phone on the wall(I didn't know those were still a thing). The atmosphere is loud and she's across the room, so I didn't get much, but I did hear the end of her conversation. "Okay good, so you've been getting my messages?" She spoke into the phone. "And everything is in order?"

  Whoever is on the other side started talking.

  She nodded, "Good."

I watched her hang up while wiping a tear from her eye.