Tangle of Need
Page 77“He sent me divorce papers!” Clearly outraged, Lisette fisted both hands … though her eyes continued to drink in the sight of her husband.
“Cut him a little slack. He was thinking crazy.” Riaz had tracked Emil down with the intention of getting to the bottom of things, of making the other man see how badly he was hurting Lisette. However, it turned out Emil had already made up his mind to reclaim his wife and trust in the strength of their love to get them through the test to come.
“When I spoke to him today,” Riaz continued, “he was planning to storm the defenses, but he agreed to give me a few minutes with you first.” Only because Riaz had promised to try to soften Lisette’s mood—though until right this second, he’d had no idea she even had a temper.
“Hah!” Lisette kicked the wall with a foot clad in a flimsy peach-colored heel, trying to push up the locked-shut window at the same time. “He thinks he can get me back just by turning up?!” A rapid storm of indignant French as she gave up on the window and stalked to the door.
Opening it so hard it slammed into the wall, she headed out.
Emil wasn’t looking at the hotel when she stomped out, but he turned a split second later. Expression lighting up, he went to take Lisette into his arms. At which point, his sweet, loving, cultured wife punched him on the jaw, hard enough that his head spun. After which she cradled his face in her hands and kissed the life out of him, before stepping back and gesticulating in unrestrained fury.
Then she reached down, took off her shoe, and threw it at his head, oblivious to the small crowd of fascinated bystanders. Ducking the missile, a laughing Emil grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides. But Lisette had enough freedom of movement to tug up the skirt of her knee-length shift and attempt to unman her husband.
Riaz winced, then grinned, knowing the other couple would be okay. The sophisticated and elegant Lisette the rest of the world knew would never cause a scene of such fiery proportions—clearly it was only with the man she loved that she let her shields fall. Just like his Adria would never allow any man but Riaz to reduce her to giggling fits as she wiggled across the bed in an attempt to escape his tickling fingers … or to hold her when she was at her most vulnerable. “I’m coming, amada. And I’m not leaving without you.”
ADRIA knew it was beneath her wolf to have run, but she’d needed space to think. Something Riaz made it impossible to do when he continued to court her with such unyielding focus. After her talk with Martin, she’d walked into her office to find a potted plant waiting for her, big red bow around the pot.
Queen of the Night. For my empress. Let’s plant it and see if she blooms for us.
Adria still had the note in her pocket, wrinkled and soft from constant handling.
The other wolf on watch up here had his base camp at the opposite end of the route, would run the second watch, but Adria had to be rested for the third in a few hours. Even knowing that, she felt no desire to sleep, her mind a chaos of need and want and impossible choices. She had only tonight before she had to return to the den, and she had no answers to the questions that tormented her.
When she caught the dark woodsmoke and citrus bite of Riaz’s scent as she moved, she moaned, realizing it was coming from the sweatshirt. She’d thrown it into her pack from where it had been lying on top of the dresser, forgetting she hadn’t worn it since the morning after the midnight meadow … the night she had given herself to him.
Now the mule-headed wolf was holding her to her word, contrary to every rule in the book when it came to mating. Emotions fluctuating between frustrated fury, black despair, and a passion that burned, she pulled the sleeves of the sweatshirt over her fingers and hugged her arms around herself, even knowing it was no way to clear her head.
Another whisper of that dark, hotly masculine scent … too strong, too fresh to come from the sweatshirt. Rising to her feet, her heart in her throat, she turned toward the trees. Either she was going mad, or the stubborn lone wolf of a male had come after her. God, but she loved him. “You have a mate.” It was a desperate reminder to both of them, because her willpower … it was crumbling to so much dust.
“I have you.” Rough, determined words. “An aggravating woman who asked the man I all but stole the Queen of the Night from to babysit it! I’ll probably have to tie Felix up to get her back.”
Adria shook her head, taking a physical step backward. “Don’t be charming.” Every wall she tried to put up was melting, every shield cracking. “I won’t steal your chance at mating.” It would poison their relationship one corrosive drop at a time.
Riaz continued to walk toward her, slow and relentless. “I gave it away of my own free will,” he said, his eyes flickering dark gold in the light from the laz-fire. “I love you to distraction, Empress.”
Her lower lip quivered, her traitorous heart slamming against her ribs. A lone wolf didn’t say those words to just anyone, his devotion a gift he’d give only to the woman he called his own. “Riaz…”
He gripped her arms when she would’ve taken another step back, dragging her to his chest to hold her tight. “Don’t.” A husky whisper that was more wolf than man. “Don’t walk away from me again. I couldn’t bear it.”
Her entire body shuddered as she fought the need inside of her and lost. “You’ll hate me,” she said, her arms locked around him because she couldn’t not hold him when he was close. “One day, you’ll hate me.” It was the thing she most feared.
Tears lodged in her throat at the fierceness of his vow. She felt suddenly brittle, as if she was made of the same glass as the tiny figurines Riaz had brought her from Venice. But when she parted her lips to say something—she didn’t know what—he covered them with his own. It was no ravaging, possessive brand, but a slow, sweet seduction, a persuasion.
Arrogance, force, dominance, she might’ve withstood, but this tenderness…
“Adria. Adria. Adria.” His voice a rough murmur, he kissed a path down her neck, back up to her mouth. “My Adria.”
She was only a woman. A woman who loved this man with the heart of the wolf within. She’d fought so hard, walked away even when it threatened to forever break her, had given him a choice. That he’d chosen her … no, she wasn’t superhuman enough to resist that, even though deep inside, she knew the choice she was about to make might one day savage her. “I love you,” she said against his mouth.
“Promise me you won’t ever walk away from me again.” A demand, his callused hand cupping her face, one of his thumbs brushing possessively over her lips.
“I promise.” She kissed him when he would’ve returned the promise, loved him until he forgot what he’d been about to say.
Chapter 70
SIENNA SURVIVED ANOTHER meeting of the maternals to crawl into bed under the fluffy sky blue comforter she’d bought online. Patterned with white snowflakes, it felt so soft around her body that she felt as if she were floating on a cloud. Until it was tugged away sometime later, to be replaced by a far heavier, hotter blanket. “You’re late,” she murmured sleepily.
Nuzzling kisses along her neck, strong hands caressing the curve of her waist. “According to my many spies, you went to bed at eight thirty.” A kiss pressed to her breastbone. “Maternals make your head hurt?”
“A fraction less this time.” Pushing her fingers through the thick glory of his hair, she tugged him up for one of those long, lazy, sexy kisses she adored from her wolf. “What did Lucas say?” With anchor detail having wound down as Nikita and Anthony began to shift the anchors into permanent safe houses in earnest, Hawke had gone down to DarkRiver territory with Riley for a meeting to finalize the inter-pack dating rules.
Lips tugging upward at the satisfied statement, she wrapped one leg around his waist. “My friends gave me some very pretty lingerie as a mating gift.” The intimate present had caused her to blush—making Evie, Maria, and the rest of her lunatic friends howl with laughter. “I’m scared to wear any of it,” she told the wolf in bed with her, “in case you tear the satin and lace to pieces.”
Nipping at her lower lip, he ran one hand up to pet and fondle her breast. “You can do a fashion parade later—after I’m suitably sated.”
“Arrogant man.” She nibbled on his jaw. “You woke me up from a very nice dream.”
A gleam in the wolf blue. “I’ll make it up to you.”
He did. Twice.
Lying happily exhausted across his chest, she stroked the muscled heat of him and spoke of something that had been on her mind since the confrontation in the forest. “Ming’s not going to let it go.”
“I know.” Hawke didn’t sound worried—his voice was that of a predator in hunting mode. Cold. Focused. Without mercy. “Which is why I’m going to kill him.”
Pushing up on his chest, she looked down into his face, her hair creating a ruby red curtain around them. “Excuse me. I think you must’ve accidentally used the wrong pronoun.”
The growl that rumbled up out of his chest was loud enough to rattle the water glass on the bedside table. “Fine, you can stand in the corner and cheer while I kill him.”
She burst out laughing, and it was the last thing she’d have ever thought she’d do while talking about Councilor Ming LeBon, telepath and a monster who had turned her childhood into a torture chamber. Unlike the man in bed with her, the one who’d taught her to play, and who treated her like she was a gift he’d been waiting a lifetime to open. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">