Roaring for Him (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Wicked in Wilder Book 1) (17 page)

A peek through the glass inset revealed his mate standing at the edge of the wooden porch, her shoulders slumped, arms wrapped around her waist. An image of dejection, sadness, and almost mourning. She may have left the house to be alone, but he refused to leave her be. She wouldn’t face life on her own any longer.

He eased through the back door, the panel swinging open on silent hinges and he nudged it closed with a soft click. Tilly twitched with the low sound, but otherwise remained motionless. No, that was a lie. She breathed deeply, chest expanding and then slowly releasing the air with a low sigh as she relaxed. So she knew who approached. Knew but didn’t reach for him or even glance at him. Which was fine. He was strong enough—secure enough—to chase after his female.

He was also a big enough asshole to shove his way into somewhere he wasn’t wanted. She sought solitude? Fine. He’d let her be alone. With him.

He padded forward, drawing in her scent as he moved and worked to filter through her emotions as he approached. Pain. He couldn’t miss the hurt, the agony that poured from her. Pain, worry, fear. So much fear. Of him? No, he shoved aside the thought before it fully formed. No way.

Mitchell slowly sidled behind her and slid his arms around her waist, gently tugging her against his front. Like before, Tilly fit against him. She simply fit
him
. Period.

“What are you doing out here?” he murmured, unwilling to break the natural quiet of the night.

“Worrying.” She was equally quiet, but her agony… That was a palpable, living thing in the air. It twisted and turned around them, wrapping them in a suffocating blanket of heartache.

“I know, but I won’t let anything happen to you or Phee. I already said you belong to me. You’re not alone any longer. You have me. You have this pack.” A pack who probably thought he was going a little overboard with Phoebe and Tilly’s protection, but he didn’t give a fuck. Their mother—and an alpha—wanted to take away his sister-in-law. Not. Happening.

“But if I pay—”

“Nope,” he shook his head, the scruff on his chin messing up her hair. “Time to make a stand and get her away from you three for good.”

He refused to acknowledge what they were doing wasn’t exactly legal in the human communities, but he was a shifter. Humans who wanted to break up his family could go fuck themselves.

He’d read the notarized document that’d been shoved under his nose, the words that revoked Tilly’s claim on Phee. Didn’t mean he’d acknowledge them or use them for anything other than toilet paper.

Tilly nodded her understanding but remained silent and he did the same, content to hold her while her emotions raged. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into hours and still he held her close. His wolf chuffed his approval of their actions, knowing they needed to provide comfort. But when her stomach growled, the gurgle shattering their solitude, he went into action.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s go inside.”

Tilly shook her head. “I should find her and…”

Mitchell released her and cupped her shoulders, gently encouraging her to face him. He didn’t speak until her gaze collided with his and he hated the sorrow that filled her eyes. “Why did you move to a shifter town?”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why didn’t you go to a human city? Why’d you settle you and your sisters in Wilder?”

“I don’t—” she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Answer the question, baby.” He knew her answer—or assumed he did—he just needed her to remember the truth.

“Because we’re shifters. The town government would probably be filled with shifters. They wouldn’t necessarily like us because we’re halfers, but we’re still shifters.”

Mitchell nodded. “Uh-huh. And why wolves? Why not Clover or Hart.”

“Because they’d welcome one of us, but not all three. At least here we’ll get a fair shake and all be treated the same. Your wolves may hate us, but there’s no playing favorites based on species. There’s no ganging up on two of us while the third can’t do a damn thing about it. There’s no watching my sister cry while they come at me and—”

Fuck. He sucked in a harsh breath as a sob left her throat. “Goddammit, baby.” He yanked her close, not caring if she was ready for a hug or not. He needed to touch her, feel her body against his so he didn’t fucking hunt down every male that’d dared to come near Tilly, Liv, and Phee. “Never again.”

She snorted. “One of your wolves already came at me, Mitchell.”

“And he’s been dealt with.” More than dealt with. His wolf hadn’t been happy with Seth’s actions and had made his feelings loud and clear to the entire pack. Seth wouldn’t come around again any time soon.

“Not counting recent events, you came to Wilder to be treated fairly and for the protection and comfort of other shifters. Ones that wouldn’t play favorites and harm you. That’s why you’re here. Now let us be what you need, Tilly. Let
me
be what you need.” He stared into her eyes, recognizing when his wolf nudged forward and toyed with his vision. It flickered the world from bright colors to faded hues—some flat out missing—and back again. “Let me fight for you and while I’m doing that, I need you to fight for us.” Mitchell changed his hold to a simple touch around her waist as he steered her toward the door. “Inside. Food.”

“Mitchell…”

He squeezed her hip gently. “Food, Tilly.” He wasn’t about to give up. “Let’s go.”

Thankfully, blessedly, she listened. He had no illusions she’d always be this amenable. She’d fought with him before this mess with Verity and he knew that as soon as they settled things, she’d be back to her sassy, aggravating self. He couldn’t wait.

The house was quiet, the low murmurs of a few of his wolves reached him, but they were mere whispers and he brushed those voices aside. He had to focus on Tilly. If they had a problem, they could come to him.

He eased her toward the bar and encouraged her to slide onto a stool. The moment she was seated, he moved into the kitchen and delved into the fridge.

“How hungry are you?” he called over his shoulder while he surveyed the fridge’s contents. They always kept defrosted steaks on hand. With as many wolves that tromped in and out of the house, ready food was necessary. When she didn’t speak, he lifted his head and peered around the edge of the door. His gaze met hers and he hated the desolation that filled her features. “Baby?”

She sniffled and it broke his heart. Broke. His fucking. Heart. “Um, just a steak, or a chicken salad, or whatever you have in there.”

Mitchell clutched his chest with a gasp and stumbled backward. “Chicken? A
salad?
Are you sick? Maybe I should call the pack doctor.”

He reached for the phone, ready to make fun of her a little more, when Phee stumbled into the room. “I know, right? Chicken
. Salad.
”

“Hey!” Tilly’s objection finally rang through the room. “Chicken is still protein. And the USDA recommends twenty-five grams of fiber—”

Phoebe gagged. “Oh my God, we do not talk about the necessity of fiber. Ever. Poop conversations belong everywhere but the kitchen.”

Tilly glared at her youngest sister. “It wasn’t a poop conversation until you went there.”

Mitchell grinned, letting their bickering flow around him. This was love, family… his future. It didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

“Me?” Phee snorted. “It’s so you. Fiber talk ergo poop.” The teen leaned into Tilly’s personal space, face coming within inches of his mate’s. “
Boom
.”

“Little shit.” Tilly’s laugh was a thing of beauty, the tinkling ringing through the room and he could kiss Phoebe for bringing that sound forward. Metaphorically speaking since he didn’t want his lips anywhere but on his mate.

“Bitch, I outweigh you by four hundred pounds.” Phee smacked her own ass. “It’s all about that bass.”

“Only when shifted,” Tilly countered.

“That’s the only time it counts.” Phee stuck her tongue out. “Just like when a guy only measures his dick when he’s har—”

She did not just mention fucking hard dicks.

Mitchell growled and glared at Phoebe and the young woman simply gave him a wide-eyed innocent stare. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

“What,” he snarled the word, “do you know about guys’ dicks?”

Phee wrinkled her nose. “Whatever the Internet says?”

Nah, skepticism still dogged him. He flashed a questioning look to Tilly, making sure she wasn’t objecting to his line of questioning. Just because Phoebe was his mate’s younger sister didn’t mean he could butt in where he liked. When she gave him a soft smile, he continued. “Uh-huh. I know about Marcia, I don’t want to hear that you’re—”

“Oh my God, you think I’m like banging some guy and actually
talking
about it to you two? Number one,” she held up a finger and propped her free hand on her hip. “Pregnant is not a good look on me. Ever.” She looked at her sister. “I love you and I’m not sad we’re all alive, Tills, but I’m not about to turn into Mom with a baby on my hip before I hit college. Which is a huge possibility.

“And two,” another finger joined the first. “I am not about to waste myself on a guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing below the waist. And if he is my age and
does
know where my clit is without a map,
I
don’t want
him
because who knows where he’s been.” With that, Phoebe shuddered.

And… Mitchell was at a loss for words. He shot a look at Tilly and she simply shrugged and gave him a look that basically said, “You asked for it.”

Yeah, he did. Now he wished he hadn’t. “That was way too much information. You can’t just blurt that out to people.”

Now it was Phoebe’s turn to shrug. “You’re not people, you’re family. Unless you don’t cook for family, in which case I’m a mouthy guest who likes her steaks medium rare.”

Emotion wrapped around his heart and squeezed, filling him with unfamiliar feelings. Sure he had his own relatives, but this girl—one who had no reason to trust him or even
like
him—was welcoming him in her own way. A look to Tilly revealed his mate’s eyes were slowly filling with tears. Further proof he was getting a gift with the teen’s acceptance. “I’ll make an exception and feed mouthy family members today.”

“Sweet,” Phee grinned. “I’m gonna call Marcia and see where she’s at. And we definitely
won’t
talk about hard dicks, clits, or sex.” The girl padded to Tilly, wrapped her arms around her sister and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Phee.” Tilly wrapped her arms around Phoebe’s waist and squeezed tightly, the two women clinging together as if their lives depended on that connection.

“They’ll find her, and run her off, huh?” Phoebe whispered.

“Yeah, they will.”

Hell yeah, they would.

“In the meantime, the eye-candy is great, my closet is huge, and I’ve got my BFF within walking distance. This place is perfect.”

“We might not be staying after—”

Oh, that shit wasn’t gonna fly.

“Phoebe,” he growled as he approached the two women.

The teen shot him a look and her eyes widened before she untangled herself from Tilly and backed away. Her next words were sing-songed as she continued her retreat. “Somebody’s in trouble and it’s not meeeee.”

“What—” Tilly began, but he silenced her the only way he knew how—a kiss.

He pulled her from the stool and then lowered his head. He delved between her lips, taking possession of her mouth before she could utter an objection. He slipped in, tasting her, dominating her, taking what he desired and showing her
exactly
how he felt.

He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her closer when she would have retreated. He pressed their bodies together, front-to-front, and he shuddered with the feel of her abundant curves against his hard lines. She was sweetness and sexy and fucking his and if she thought for one moment he’d let her leave… She was mistaken.

Her nipples pebbled and hardened, the thin fabric of her shirt doing nothing to hide their state from him. Just as he realized his mate was aroused by his kiss, the scent of her desire struck him. It slid around him and embraced him in a drugging blanket of seductive musk. If he slipped his hand into her jeans, he knew he’d find her wet and slick for him.

Mitchell traced the length of her spine and then cupped the plump mounds of her ass, loving the way they filled his palms. He kneaded her flesh, aching with the need to tear the fabric away and touch her once again. It’d seemed like forever since he’d tasted her, slipped his fingers into her sheath, and forced her to scream his name.

Mitchell’s cock was rock hard and aching for her, his dick anxious to fucking fill her already. To get her on his prick and his teeth in her shoulder. He’d claim her, tie her to him so tightly she’d never even think of leaving him.

And he wanted to do that. Now. Fucking traditions be damned. He wasn’t sure he could wait for the full moon gathering of his pack.

He squeezed her ass tighter and used his hold to lift her. It took one small turn of his body and he placed her on the counter, putting her at the perfect height to rub his cock against her—

“Oh my God, people eat off that counter!”

Tilly stiffened in his embrace, all hints of her burgeoning desire banished with those screeched words. Unfortunately, Mitchell’s hard-on wasn’t as easily forgotten. He breathed deeply, fighting for calm, and he groaned when his nose was filled with Tilly’s delicious flavors. Dammit, that was not helping.

“That’s just gross.” That voice came to him again, growing louder the closer the speaker came. He wondered if Kade would be pissed if he strangled Darcy.

“Excuse—” he continued to scramble for calm, “the fuck outta me?”

The woman obviously didn’t get the hint. “What? It’s the truth.” She brushed past Mitchell, the stink of her heavy perfume coating him as her clothes rubbed his. “Who knows where she’s been,” she murmured.

Truthfully, he should have walked away. He should have snatched Tilly to him and carried her to his den to continue exploring her body. What better way to take her mind off her mother’s bullshit than making her come?