On the Prowl (12 page)

As reassurances went, it wasn’t much, but Saskia would take it. At this point, any positive sign made the engagement between them feel less like a chain around her neck.

“Great.” She tried a tentative smile, had no idea if it succeeded. “I’ll just go get started.”

*   *   *

Nicolas watched his mate walk away from him with an impassive expression on his face and the feel of his own claws digging into the flesh of his thigh behind the concealment of his large, heavy desk. The expression was meant to keep her from seeing how quickly and deeply her presence disturbed him, and the self-inflicted pain was to keep him from leaping over the polished furniture and dragging her to the floor for another round of primitive mating sex.

Christ, she got to him like a drug. No man would ever need heroin if he could just spend five minutes in Nicolas’s mate’s addictive company. Not that he intended to let another man within fifty feet of her anytime this century. Even her father would need to be evaluated on an individual basis. Never in this life had Nicolas felt possessive of a woman before, but when it came to Saskia he felt himself turning into a jealous monster. What the hell was going on?

Tossing aside his pen, Nicolas ran a hand roughly over his face and scrubbed restlessly at his short-cut hair. Less than twenty-four hours since their engagement, and the woman had him tied up in knots so tight, he didn’t think anything but a chain saw could hack them loose. This did not fall in line with his plans.

He snorted. Every time he saw her, his plans skittered further and further out of his grasp. He reminded himself of a clumsy puppy chasing an ice cube across a kitchen floor, only he wasn’t having nearly so much fun. Instead, he felt himself running in circles, somehow ending up further and further away from his goal of a peaceful, orderly, traditional life with the peaceful, orderly, traditional mate he had selected. About the only traditional thing he’d discovered about Saskia was that she’d somehow managed to come to him a virgin, a fact that had blown his mind a few hours earlier and that still had the power to make his dick hard just thinking about it.

He hadn’t been expecting that, he admitted, and the sharp, sudden scent of blood, the abrupt tensing of her muscles, the unexpected resistance he’d encountered inside her, had nearly given him a stroke. He’d known his mate had been raised strictly by parents who still valued the old Tiguri ways; it had been one of the reasons he’d agreed Saskia might suit him. But he’d never expected innocence. What woman these days made it to her late twenties without ever having sex? Tiguri or no, his mate was beautiful and tempting and so stunningly sensual, he wanted to hide her away from all the men who must have noticed it just watching her walk down the street. How was it that none of them had managed to seduce her before this afternoon? Nic knew that if he had met her some other way, just run into her at a party or a club, he would have chased after her like a hound on a rabbit and he wouldn’t have stopped until he’d had her under him, until he’d tasted all that hot, wild passion he now knew bubbled beneath her elegant surface.

The memory of it made him grateful to be sitting down. It weakened his knees even as it hardened his dick. He recalled the way she had fought him so fiercely in the beginning and the moment when his last, desperate attempt to subdue her had flipped that internal switch and transformed her anger into lust. He’d been able to taste the change on her tongue, a spill of heavy sweetness washing away the metallic tang of her rage. He’d felt the way her body softened and yielded to him, the way she began to struggle not to get away but to get closer, to feel and experience more of the electricity their two bodies generated.

Nicolas groaned and sank back in his chair. He could almost feel her sweet flesh wrapped around him again, so tight and hot he’d almost lost his mind. Hell, he
had
lost his mind. Otherwise, there was no excuse for the rough way he’d taken her. Even when he’d registered her broken barrier, he’d been unable to pull back, unable to slow down, unable to do anything but rut hard against her. He’d staked a primitive claim on her, marking her with his scent and his teeth. He remembered the feel of her soft flesh under his jaw, recalled the taste of her blood in his mouth, the way she’d uttered the tigress’s version of a purr, a deep, rumbling
reowwwr
escaping her with every exhaled breath. He shuddered, the sensory memory literally washing over him like an ocean wave, dragging him under and flipping him ass over elbow until he barely knew which way was up. That was how his mate made him feel, and to Nicolas that was utterly unacceptable.

He shoved away from his desk, unable to sit still any longer. Obviously, the time had come to set down some rules for his new mate. She needed to understand the way he intended for this relationship to work. He had every intention of caring for her, providing for her, and treating her with respect, but if she thought he would allow himself to be led around by his dick, she was sorely mistaken. He would make it clear now that he had taken charge of their union and he would steer it in the direction he deemed most appropriate. If she had a problem with that, she’d better start learning to cope, because Nicolas Preda had a plan, and he intended to see it through.

Five

Nic had himself back under control a few minutes later when he made his way into the kitchen. The sight of his wife—politically incorrect and clichéd as it might be—standing barefoot at the expansive counter contributed nicely to his newly acquired calm.

She looked at ease in the space, her classical features and feminine delicacy somehow striking a pleasing balance with the slick, dark modernity of the utilitarian room. She held a large, sharp knife comfortably in one hand, the other guiding a pile of cleaned and stemmed mushrooms into the path of the flashing blade. She barely hesitated when he approached, offering a tentative smile across the granite peninsula.

“I thought a stir-fry would be quick and easy,” she said, and he noticed the small prep bowls of neatly chopped vegetables spread around her.

He tried to look pleased. “The vegetables look … pretty.”

She laughed. “Don’t be scared. The beef is marinating in the fridge.”

Nic relaxed in relief. “Ah.” He lifted his head, sniffing at the fragrant air. “Something already smells pretty good.”

“I put the rice on first. It should be ready by the time I have everything else cooked up.”

“How long?” He didn’t really care. As hungry as he was, he just wanted to keep her talking, and the subject of food seemed like a safe territory to explore.

She glanced over her shoulder at a digital timer. “About ten more minutes.”

He nodded and slid his hands into his pockets, scanning the room for something else to say. When in doubt, he told himself, offer assistance. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“No, I’ve got it under control.” She kept working for a couple of minutes, then glanced up with a tentative smile. “You could get us something to drink, though. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to keep me company.”

Right. Drinks. Nic could handle that. He glanced at the clock on the double oven. Just after four. That meant the sun was over the yardarm, right?

“How about a glass of wine?”

“That sounds nice.”

Crossing to the well-stocked cabinet against the wall, he scanned labels thoughtfully before reaching for a heavy green bottle. “Red okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

He busied himself with the production of opening the wine, letting it sit on the counter to breathe while he pulled down a pair of balloon goblets. The cozy domesticity of the scene, each of them working at their chore, companionably sharing the family space, eased a bit more of his tension, and Nic found himself almost relaxed and he took a seat on the stool at the other side of her work surface.

“Where did you learn to cook?” he asked, pouring them each a glass of wine.

She thanked him for hers but left it on the counter as she moved on from mushrooms to carrots. “I’d love to say Paris, mostly because I wish I’d gotten the chance to spend that much time there, but oddly enough, it was in Bern.”

“Switzerland?”

She gave a small grin. “Yeah, not exactly famous for the cuisine, is it? But it’s true. My school was just a couple of miles outside of the city, so I got to go there a lot. I spent so much time in this one little bistro that the owner finally got exasperated at my taking up space and decided to put me to work. She dragged me back into the kitchen so she could show me how to make my own crêpes, and after that she had trouble getting rid of me.”

“You enjoyed it?”

“Very much. I like to use my hands, and I like to make things. The fact that cooking means I can make things that also taste good is like a big bonus.”

He asked her more questions about her years in Switzerland and about her childhood and found himself actually listening to her answers. Her words painted a picture of a pleasant but somewhat isolated existence. Her parents had constantly reminded her of the importance of her heritage, and while they had encouraged her to pursue the things that interested her, like cooking and art and—to Nic’s surprise—needlepoint, they had always made her aware of how her choices and her hobbies would have to fit in with the life for which they believed her destined. He wondered whether it was some sort of miracle that Saskia’s interests all seemed to suit her role as Tiguri mate so well or she had subconsciously only chosen to pursue things she knew wouldn’t upset her family. The idea made him somehow uncomfortable, and he had to make an effort to push it away.

“University was sort of overwhelming at first,” she confessed, sliding her prepared ingredients to the side of the huge cooktop. She set a wok on the top of a burner and lit it, leaning down to expertly check the level of the flame. “I mean, I’d spent eight years at the same school tucked away in the mountains of Switzerland and suddenly I was trying to navigate my way around Edinburgh without a single familiar face around me.”

Her mouth curved into a wry smile as she pulled a covered bowl from the refrigerator and set it beside the vegetables. “I probably spent the first month looking like a deer in headlights.”

She reached for her wine finally, took a sip, and gave an appreciative little hum. Nic shifted on his stool and tried to ignore the way that sound altered the fit of his trousers.

“What made you decide to go to school in Scotland?” he asked, mostly to distract himself.

“Because my parents wanted me to go to Oxford.” Her smile widened into a grin and her eyes sparkled as she added oil to the hot wok and then tossed in garlic and shallots. “That was my rebellious phase. My parents were living mostly at Shadelea at the time, and they liked the idea of me being so close to home. I didn’t.”

She moved with graceful efficiency, adding carrot, celery, and broccoli flowers to the wok, using a rounded metal spatula to keep it all moving. “Big rebellion, I know. A whopping three hundred and fifty extra miles. But at the time, that seemed like a grand gesture.”

“Not every gesture needs to be a grand one. It looks like yours worked out fairly well.”

“It did.” Beef went into the wok, got tossed around, then coated with a splash of the marinade. “I had a wonderful time in Edinburgh, and I got the taste of independence I wanted. I was still able to visit often enough to keep my parents happy, but I wasn’t so close that they felt compelled to check in on me constantly. I enjoyed it.” She turned to look at him. “This is just about ready. Should we take it into the dining room?”

The table there sat at least twelve, even without the extending leaves. Nic shook his head. “Let’s eat in here. Would you mind?”

“Not at all. Can you grab place mats or something?”

He dug out a pair of colorful mats, folded linen napkins, and chopsticks. Somehow after seeing her expertise with the wok, he doubted the wooden implements would present her with any sort of challenge. Setting two places side by side at the counter, he moved around to pick up her wine as she dished rice, meat, and vegetables onto two plates.

“That smells wonderful,” he commented. He watched while she reached across the counter to set out the food, then circled around to take the stool beside his.

Because he was watching her closely, he saw the slight grimace of discomfort when she sat, even with the stool’s padded seat. Damn, he’d been too rough with her.

She didn’t betray herself with so much as a grumble, just smiled and spread her napkin daintily across her lap. “I hope it tastes good.”

It did, so good he gave an involuntary grunt of pleasure the moment the first strip of tender, flavorful beef crossed his tongue. Saskia said nothing, but he saw her smile over the rim of her wineglass.

They ate in silence for several minutes, Nic working his way steadily through a healthy pile of meat, rice, and vegetables while his mate lifted each bite-sized morsel to her lips with the delicate grace of a house cat. The contrast made him feel like an even bigger brute for the way he’d handled her earlier. He wracked his brain for a delicate way to broach the subject but came up empty. Did a polite way even exist to ask a woman if you’d fucked her hard enough for her to require medical attention?

Finishing his meal, Nic pushed his plate away and angled his body toward his mate. She glanced up at him, caution and curiosity mingling in her expression. He decided the only way to get answers was to ask the damned question and worry later about who blushed harder. He felt pretty safe in assuming it would wind up being her, anyway.

“Did I hurt you earlier?” He tried to keep his voice soft and undemanding but surprised himself when it came out low and intimate. As he’d predicted, her cheeks turned the color of ripe apples.

She also nearly choked on a mouthful of rice.

“N-no!” she coughed, reaching for her wineglass and taking an indelicate swig. After clearing her throat again, she shook her head, her eyes watery and unable to look straight at his. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.”