Alpha Omega 03 - Fair Game

your mate to take care of herself and help, damn it, instead of having to protect me from whatever you are hiding.” She hated crying. Tears were weaknesses that could be exploited and they never solved a damned thing. Sobs gathered in her chest like a rushing tide and she needed to get away from him before she broke.
    Instead of fighting his grip, she tried to slide out of it. “I need to go,” she said to his chest. “I need—”
    His mouth closed over hers, hot and hungry, warming her mouth as his body warmed her body.
    “Me,” Charles said, his voice dark and gravelly as if it had traveled up from the bottom of the earth, his eyes a bright gold. “You need me.”
    He kissed her again, his hands roaming from her jaw down her neck and shoulders. His hips pressed forward, and he released her mouth as he slid his body up until his sex pressed, hard and full, against hers. She jerked involuntarily, and he laughed in the same deep way that he had spoken. She growled at him, wolf to wolf.
    “There you are, there you are,” he said. “Are you just going to let me do this alone?”
    He was talking too much when he should be feeling. She curled one leg up until the angle of their hips was better, climbing his body until she could bite down on his collarbone. He drew in his breath at the pain and she released him. Now his attention was on her instead of on making words, so she could be gentler. She licked the wound she’d made, feeling it heal under her tongue as she cleaned the iron-rich blood from his skin. She lunged upward and this time she caught the tendon in his neck gently, and his gasp had nothing to do pain.
    She wiggled her hips, rubbing the seam of her jeans on him as she absorbed the heady smell that was her mate when he was aroused. She wanted to smell it better so she slipped down and rested her openmouth against his hardness, letting her hot breath caress him through his jeans. It had been so long since they’d touched.
    His scent grew stronger: musk and forest, salt and bitter, with an indescribably delicious edge of sweetness.
    “Anna,” he said, a little desperately. “Isaac, Malcolm, and probably that damned fae can hear us.”
    She opened her mouth and bit—not hard, just enough to shut him up and to let him know that pushing her away was not an option.
    Charles made a noise that might have been a laugh, but all she heard was the surrender in it, and then he let her knock him onto his back in the damp soil of the island and unzip his jeans until she could get to him. Once she had his bare skin in her hands, the frantic need lessened, partly assuaged by the clear evidence that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
    His skin was so soft to sheathe something so hard. She licked him delicately, loving the taste of him now seasoned by the ocean’s salt. She loved him in all of his flavors, loved the noises he made as she pleasured him, loved the catch in his breath and the jerkiness of his movements—he who was always graceful.
    She swallowed him down, claiming him, man and wolf, in the most basic way possible.
    “I am yours,” he said, a finger under her chin dislodging her claim. “And you”—he moved his hands under her shoulders and pulled until she was all the way on top—”are mine.”
    Her jeans were in the way so he rolled her to the side and stripped her shoes, pants, and underwear off in three quick motions. He pulled her back on top with hands that were more urgent than gentle and slid inside her.
    She closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of the slow burn, the slick pressure and warm friction that meant he was hers. Then he grabbed her hips and asked, so she moved—and quit thinking altogether.
    Limp and well loved, Anna panted on top of Charles. As the last tingles died down, she started to think again instead of just feel.
    “Did we,” she whispered, feeling the blush start at her toes and travel all the way out to her ears. “Did we really make love while everyone was listening? Right out in the open? When there might be a bad guy we can’t see or hear watching?” She might have squeaked the last word.
    Underneath her, Charles laughed, his belly bouncing her up and down. He felt resilient and relaxed, like a cat bathing in the sun. “All I was trying to do was get you to call up your wolf so she could fight off the black magic that was making you doubt yourself.” He paused and the relaxation faded. “Making you doubt me.” He rubbed her back. “I made