Wild Embrace (15 page)

Desiree was excited
about a man for the first time in what seemed like forever. She'd gone through her young and wild phase like most leopard females, but that had been years ago. Though touch was as important to her as to any changeling, she'd been abstaining from intimate skin privileges for long, lonely months. There was just no one she wanted to be with, and though friends had offered to help her ease her touch hunger, she'd turned them down.

There was nothing wrong in being with a friend, in finding comfort in each other's arms, skin to skin as her soul craved, but she wanted more. Felix . . . There was something there, something that had her smiling as she arrived on watch to find him putting her bonsai in the passenger seat of his beat-up old truck. It had hurt her the previous day when he hadn't taken it home, though she'd told herself he could hardly carry it in his mouth.

But, oh, he was a beautiful wolf. It had taken all her self-control to keep her distance when she'd returned to this area in the evening just in time to see him exit the shed in his lupine form; she'd wanted to run her fingers through his luxuriant fur as badly as she wanted to pet that gorgeous hair of his. “Hi.”

A quick glimpse from below a fan of long lashes, his skin stretched taut over the dramatic bones of his face. Not a blush this time. No,
this was harsh tension. Her smile faded. Stopping a couple of feet away, she leaned against the side of the truck. “Is something the matter?”

He blew out a breath, his shoulders rigid under the battered gray T-shirt he wore, the fabric skimming down the hard planes of his upper body. “I can't do this.” Quiet, intense words.

A punch to the stomach couldn't have taken her more by surprise. The spark between them, she'd been certain he'd felt it, too. “You don't like me?” She wasn't the giving-up type, had to know if there was something she could do to stop him from walking away before she'd even gotten to know him.

When his cheekbones flushed, his fingers tense on the edge of the open door, she realized she'd come perilously close to using her dominance against him. Shit, shit, shit. That wasn't how it worked, how she wanted this to work. The cold truth was that a dominant could
compel
a pack submissive to obey her on the sexual level. Felix wasn't pack but as a blood ally, he was close enough—his wolf might just obey her.

Even the idea of it made her skin crawl.

Turning away, she braced her hands on her knees, nausea twisting her gut into knots and shame flooding her mouth with bile.

“Dezi?” A careful touch on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Gentle hands even now, she thought. He'd never be violent, Felix, would never tear and claw. It was always what she'd sought from lovers before—primal fury, her leopard wanting to tangle with a man who was her match. But today, she began to get an inkling of why none of those lovers had ever truly satisfied her.

“I'm sorry,” she said again, staring at the ground so she wouldn't inadvertently lock her eyes with his, make him back down. “I didn't mean to use my strength against you.”

“What?” Confusion in his voice, his big hand stroking her back, petting her. “You didn't do that.”

“I was pushing you.”

He actually laughed, the rich, masculine sound stroking through the fur of the leopard inside her skin. “News flash, Dezi. Dominants do that. A lot.” He shifted to crouch down beside her, his hand still big and warm on her back. “The rest of us have learned to handle it.”

This time, it was Desiree who looked at him through her lashes, their eyes catching for a fleeting instant before he broke the contact. “Please look at me,” she said softly. “I need to know for sure that I didn't hurt you.”

His Adam's apple moving as he swallowed, he nonetheless held her gaze for a long second. A deep, luscious brown, his irises were almost swallowed up by his pupils. When he broke contact again, she read the flush on his cheekbones, the tension in his muscles in a different light. “You do want me,” she whispered, her fingers trembling. “Then why . . .”

His hand fisted on her back. “I can't be your toy, Dezi.”

She sucked in a breath.

“Shit,” he muttered. “That came out wrong. I just . . . I'm ready to settle down, find a long-term lover or a mate. I want pups and a home and a family I can spoil and adore.” He lifted his head, their eyes meeting for another split second. “You know that can't happen between us.”

Dezi wanted to argue with him, but she knew he was right. Her leopard was drawn to strength, to power. She couldn't change that, as he couldn't change the fact that he needed a partner who wouldn't discomfort or inadvertently scare his wolf. “Damn.” It was a soft whisper. “I really like you.”

She saw his lips curve, the lower one fuller than the upper, and
wished she could see the gorgeous entirety of his smile. “I like you, too.” Petting her back again, he said, “Friends? For real.”

“Yeah . . . friends.” The most fascinating man she'd ever met and there was no way she could have him, not without hurting him.

•   •   •

Desiree
kicked at the fallen pine needles outside her parents' Yosemite home, trying to walk off her temper before she went in for a late lunch with her mother. She hadn't had a restful sleep after her shift, her body torn up with primal sexual desire focused on a man she simply could not touch.

“You'll kick a hole in the earth all the way back to your
nana
and
nani
in Kashmir if you keep doing that.”

Desiree groaned at the sound of that clear voice with its lilting accent. “Hi, Mom.” Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she met green eyes the same shade as her own and answered in one of the Kashmiri languages her mother had taught her as a toddler. “At least that way, they could visit us more easily.” Her maternal grandparents lived in a remote area of the mountainous region.

“Don't be silly, cublet. You know your
nani
would never stand for tramping through a dirty tunnel. She likes to fly in the jets.” Petite and in dancer shape, her silky brown skin unlined, Meenakshi slipped her arm into Desiree's. “Now, come inside. Tell your ma what's wrong.”

“Nothing's wrong,” she muttered, feeling sulky and frustrated.

That earned her a pat on the arm and a crook of a finger. Surrendering, Desiree leaned down and was kissed on the cheek, Meenakshi's hand warm on Desiree's other cheek as the scents of fire and water mingled with growing green things enveloped her. The fire and water was her mother—an elemental, artistic creature. The growing
green things, that came from her dad, Harry's and Meenakshi's scents permanently entwined after so many years as a mated pair.

Bad mood easing as the scent of home and of family sank into her bones, Desiree followed her mom through the trees and into the house where she'd grown up. Meenakshi waved her into a seat at the kitchen table and pulled out a skillet. She wasn't the best cook on the planet, but she did a spiced omelet that Desiree loved, complete with sliced chilies, onions, a sprig of coriander . . . and lashings of love.

It was exactly that favorite that she made for Desiree today.

Putting it in front of Desiree along with a small bowl of steaming rice, her mother said, “You need carbs as well as protein. Eat.” She placed a platter of cut fruit on the table for afterward.

Sitting down with a toasted bagel that she spread with cream cheese for her own lunch, Meenakshi sighed. “Twenty-seven years and six months since I discovered this and it remains my delicious nemesis.” She took a big bite, made a blissful sound in her throat.

Desiree laughed. “I know. My fault.” Meenakshi had apparently started craving bagels with cream cheese during her first pregnancy, hadn't been able to eat them during her second, then started again right afterward. “At least I didn't make you eat pickles and strawberry ice cream. Together.”

Her mother's eyes widened. “Who's eating that?”

“Ria,” Desiree said, knowing Meenakshi hated missing out on any interpack gossip. “Annie told me Ria sent Emmett out in the middle of the night to find pickles. He bought a jumbo jar and she ate them inside of a day.” She shook her head. “Apparently, she dips the pickles in the ice cream.”

Meenakshi's smile was affectionate. “I can't wait for their cub to be born. And I bet you the baby grows up and either hates pickles or adores them. No middle ground. Just like you can't stand
cream cheese and your sister loves bananas more than is good for her.”

“Sonu call yesterday or today?” Her sister, Sonal, might be roaming the world, but she made sure to touch base regularly, aware Meenakshi worried about her “cublets.”

Her mother's face lit up even as she groaned. “Look at this!” She thrust her phone at Desiree. “Your sister is jumping off perfectly good bridges, just like you did!”

Desiree laughed at the image of her younger sibling's gleeful grin as she bungee jumped off a mist-shrouded bridge somewhere in South America. She decided not to tell her mom that Sonal had already jumped out of a plane. Twice. Those messages had come directly to Desiree. For a cat, her sister had an unusually strong taste for the air. No surprise then that Sonal intended to become a pilot once she'd satisfied her need to roam.

They spoke about Sonal and about other family things until Desiree was halfway through her meal. At which point, she told her mother everything, because that was what she'd always done—Meenakshi's love was a fierce force of nature. It centered and comforted Desiree as much as her father's calm, solid presence.

“Hmm,” Meenakshi said afterward. “He's right, your Felix.”

“He's not my Felix.” That was the problem.

“Stop sulking, cublet. It doesn't suit you.”

“I only do it with you.”

Laughing softly, Meenakshi reached out to tweak one of Desiree's braids. “My pretty, brilliant baby, you know what you're like. Your cat fights chains tooth and nail. It'll take a very strong man indeed to tie you down.”

“He's strong,” Desiree said with a scowl. “Submissive doesn't mean weak, you know that.” That was a mistake only outsiders ever made. Every changeling raised in a balanced pack knew that all
submissives would fight to the death to protect the vulnerable under their care, their courage unflinching even under attack from dominants they could have no hope of defeating.

Meenakshi raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “
I
know that. But does your leopard know that?”

Desiree worried her lower lip with her teeth, the leopard prowling frustrated and confused inside her skin. “I want him more than I've ever wanted a man in my life,” she whispered. “And I can't bear to hurt him.”

She met her mother's intent gaze. “He's so talented, Mom, so gifted. I swear he literally coaxes the trees to settle into the soil, to grow.” Rubbing a fisted hand against her heart, she swallowed. “I feel this hunger to
know
him, to find out all the pieces of him and hold those pieces close so nothing can ever harm him.”

Meenakshi set her cup on the table. “That's more than want, sweetheart.”

“I know.” She folded her arms around her middle, hugging herself tight. “I just don't know if it's enough for Felix.”

•   •   •

A
week after she'd agreed to be his friend and nothing more, Felix watched Desiree joke with a fellow DarkRiver soldier as all the adults who'd been helping with the planting that day gathered for an impromptu party. The soldiers had worked out a watch rotation that meant everyone could join in, and Felix had done a run up to the den in the truck to sneak out food and drinks.

Now they sat among the trees to the left of the denuded section, the dark gold of sunset turning the entire area into an oil painting. Felix, seated with his back against a pine, a beer in his left hand, should've been relaxed, content. He was ahead of schedule, the mood of the pack lifting with each new square of greenery. The seedlings
were taking well, and he had every hope that by this time next year, the denuded area would be covered thickly enough that the pack no longer saw it as a vulnerability.

Instead of being happy, however, he was irritable and aggravated, and it wasn't difficult to figure out why. His body hadn't let him get much sleep since the day Desiree stepped out of the trees and sauntered over to him on those stunning legs currently encased in sleek black jeans. He dreamed about the lemon spice and wild cat scent of her, woke up aroused and hungry. Meanwhile, she was leaning against the big male leopard, shoulder to shoulder, the two of them so easy with skin privileges they'd probably end up in bed tonight.

Squeezing his beer bottle tight to the point that he was in danger of fracturing it, he got up and decided to walk off his mood. He left the bottle on a crate the others were using as a table and, hands in the pockets of his jeans, began to stride toward a stream about a ten-minute walk away—hopefully, his head would be in the right space by the time he made the round-trip.

Lemon spice in the air.

“Felix.”

Freezing at the sound of that husky voice, he hesitated only a split second before carrying on.

She came after him, her long legs matching his stride, though he was a solid five inches taller. “You're mad at me.”

He gritted his jaw. “No.”

“You've been scowling at me since the party started. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” No, she'd been . . . friendly. No more dazzling smile, no more flirting, no more sense of invitation in her voice. It was exactly what he'd asked for, and it infuriated him.

Not leaving, she kept walking with him until they were far enough away from the party that Felix could no longer hear the others. Then
she cut in front of him. Bringing himself to a halt, he stared past her gray-T-shirt-clad shoulder, though having her this close to his neck deeply discomforted his wolf. A single move and she could rip out his jugular, sever his carotid.