When she heard voices below the treehouse, she rose from the bed and folded her hands in front of her in an effort not to pace. She considered trying to pose provocatively, but figured she’d just end up looking like a fool.
Instead, she focused on not throwing up, and sending up silent prayers that this would be the beginning of a new—a better—life for her. Something beautiful and something that would whisk her away from her troubles.
She remembered the warning Rafe had issued years ago, to focus on her and not pin all her hopes on a mystery guy. But now, she was days away from potentially running in the Curusm, or worse, getting mated off to Thatcher.
And the mystery guy in question was right below her tower window—so to speak.
The voices ceased and then she heard it—or him, to be more precise—as he climbed the ladder.
Should she have left the hatch open? Should she have put on music? Perfume? Done her hair differently? Not that there was much she could do with her unruly red curls after a shower, but air drying may not have been the way to go.
Stop, Vivian! She scolded. You can do this. It’s just sex. It’s what you were made to do.
The hatch flew open, hitting the floor with a thud, and then he was there, climbing through the hole, his back to her. She saw his strong shoulders, his powerful arms, as he hoisted himself up.
He was tall, not nearly as tall or bulky as Elliot—which frankly, was a relief. Callum had a more slender build, but she knew there could be speed and agility in slender shifters. Besides, she didn’t care that he wasn’t bulky or heaped with muscle girth.
Until he turned around.
The smile on his face disappeared when he spotted her.
Choosing to believe it was shock and not disappointment, Vivian stood tall and smiled.
“Hi.” Timidly, she motioned behind her to the turned down bed that was highlighted by soft lighting. “I got everything prepared for you. Do you have a preference on position?”
After a moment, he ran a hand over his face. “You’re naked.”
Vivian looked down at herself. “I’m not actually.”
The material covered her from shoulder to knee, but it was most definitely see-through.
“But I can remove it if you’d rather.”
When she lifted her arms to pull at the ties, he shouted for her to stop.
“No, please don’t!” He swallowed.
Why hadn’t he come to her yet? Should she lay on the bed and spread her legs? Was she supposed to initiate this? Because that would be a disaster.
Her palms began to sweat.
“Why are you wearing that? What did you think was going to happen tonight?”
“Um, aren’t you going to imprint on me?”
Appalled—that was the expression on his face.
Vivian’s hopes sunk.
“Why the fuck would you think that?”
Fighting tears, she chewed her lower lip. “He told me you would.”
His face darkened as he took a step forward. “Who?”
Vivian dropped to the bed and tried not to cower. “My father.” Swallowing back her tears, she explained. “It’s my duty to make you happy and let you,” she waved to her body, “do what you want with my body. That you would want to claim me and imprint right away.”
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” he nearly spat the word, as though it disgusted him. Though maybe it was her he found repulsive.
Oh my God, she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hold back her sob. He didn’t want her. He was rejecting her.
Her own mate was rejecting her.
No one is going to want me when they find out. Father is going to make me run in the Curusm. Or worse, sell me off to one of his dirty old friends for sure.
“Are you crying?”
So consumed in her own misery and fear, she’d nearly forgotten he was there. Wiping at her eyes, she went to straighten her clothing, realized she was all but naked, and a complete fool, and a fresh wave of tears, took over.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “He told me to stay pure. He told me you’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”
Callum’s eyes narrowed. “Your father?”
Vivian stilled, barely nodding her head.
“What else did he tell you I’d want?”
Grasping onto that question as though it was a lifeboat, and she was adrift with only one opportunity to be saved, Vivian launched into a list. “I’m great with kids. I’m better at crocheting but I can knit a potholder. I’m very organized. Fantastic with a budget. I can make a wonderful lemon-scented cleaner. Admittedly, my meatloaf could use a little work, but with ketchup it’s great, and I make an amazing lasagna. Oh! And I’ve perfected pie crust now. I make the best pecan pie.”
Finishing her list, she prayed it was adequate enough to please him since it seemed her body wouldn’t do. But then she looked at him and her stomach felt like a rock.
The look on his face was one she was all too familiar with: rage, disappointment, and dark, dark anger.
The tears returned. Holding her hands firmly clasped in front of her, she tried not to shake, but couldn’t help the stammer that began. “I’m so sorry that it’s not enough. I can do better, I promise, I–”
“What the fuck makes you think I’d want some 1950’s housewife?” He took a step forward.
Cowering, she jumped backward, making herself as small as possible.
The tense look on his face eased for just a moment before he turned away, grabbed the back of his head with two hands, and roared out a curse.
Terrified, she watched the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took a few deep breaths.
She wondered if Rafe was close enough to have heard him holler. Was he near enough to help her if Callum got violent?
Slowly, he turned to face her. His voice was lower and much calmer when he told her, “I want a mate with opinions and ideas. With goals and dreams. Someone who’s going to keep me in line.” A faint smile played over his face. “Someone who isn’t going to agree to everything I say, and spread her legs on demand. I want a partner, not a slave.”
She sank onto the bed, remembering once more that she was naked, and pulled a blanket over her body. “I’m so embarrassed.”
He came a little closer. “You shouldn’t be. It’s not your fault. It’s this fucking pack.” Under his breath he whispered, “I hate it here.”
She snorted. Me too.
“Can I sit?” He motioned to the mattress.
She nodded. Once he’d sat down, his scent was even stronger. The pulsing between her legs grew worse. The ache inside her tightened. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but didn’t dare.
Vivian didn’t look at him when she told him, “If you reject me, you’ll need to do so formally, before Thatcher.”
He shifted on the bed, his body turning toward her. “You think I’d reject you?”
Bashfully, she lifted her gaze. “I’m not what you wanted.”
For a second, his gaze darted down to the sheet she held over herself. A smile played across his face. “Vivian, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think you can be that kind of mate? The kind that’s going to challenge me and make every day worthwhile?”
“I can’t do that with a meatloaf recipe?”
Callum’s shoulders slumped. “Is that what you want? Is that what you want out of a relationship?”
She stared at him for a long time. Thick lashes framed his eyes, and the beard he wore almost hid the dimple on his chin. The sweater and jeans he wore showed off his long, lean form, and the confident way he carried himself, even in an unfamiliar and not particularly welcoming pack.
He was beautiful, and not just on the outside, it seemed. Could he really offer her the life she’d never let herself dream about?
Slowly, she shook her head.
He seemed to let loose a relieved breath, and that easy smile came back, this time engaging his eyes as well, and the sight was breathtaking. “Put aside all the bullshit your dad has fed you and tell me. Tell me, Vivian, who are you? What do you want out of your life?”
She was quiet for a moment, studying him before deciding how much she was willing to confess. This was her mate. She should be able to tell him anything. Even her hopes and dreams.
His gaze never left hers, and when she chewed her bottom lip, he smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Tell me.”
“You know the party today? The BBQ? All the planning and food and games and everything that went into that?” She flexed her fingers. “I coordinated it. All of it.”
“Okay,” he said, seemingly not understanding.
“Thatcher, and my dad think that it’s my mom who does all the planning, but a few years ago, I took over doing it and the events have gotten so much better. Everyone is complimenting her now on what a good job she’s doing.”
“Why does she take the credit if you’re doing all the work?”
“Oh no!” Vivian replied, touching his arm, where his sleeve had been rolled up.
They both looked down at where their skin met. For a breath, neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. As their skin collided, a cool sensation stole her breath. Pleasure slithered across her nerves, lighting them all on fire as the cold became hot. Dampness flooded her panties, and embarrassment flooded her face.
When it seemed she finally remembered how to breathe, that icy grip on her lungs loosened. Mates first touch. If she hadn’t known he was her mate, this confirmed it. She didn’t need the touch to know. Her attraction to his scent was more than enough to prove their bond.
Dropping her hand, she cleared her throat and went on. “My mom helps. It’s not like she doesn’t do anything. She does a lot. But she follows my lead and my suggestions.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Well.” She looked away. “She hates doing it. Hates planning those things, but I love it. She takes credit though, so,” she swallowed, “so that we don’t draw unnecessary attention to me.”
“Because that would mean…?” he prompted.
Unsure how he’d react to the full truth of her home life, to her situation, to the fact that Thatcher might want to mate with her, Vivian switched gears. Clasping her hands, she told him. “I’d love to be an event planner.”
“So do it.”
She shook her head. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“You love doing it. You think you’d want to try it as a career?”
She nodded.
Callum’s fingers touched her chin, directing her face, her gaze toward him. “You’re my mate. Nothing stops you now, got it?”
Hope blossomed. “Really?”
That super sexy smile was radiant. “Yeah, really.”
“So you’ll imprint on me?”
Hope stretched up, beaming from her. Maybe, just maybe, he could get her out of here.
His thumb stroked her chin, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her.
“Not tonight. No.”
She deflated with a huff.
Callum laughed. “I’m not rejecting you. I’m not saying no. I just think we should get to know each other a little. Take it slow.”
“But–”
“You’re a virgin, Vivian. It needs to be slow. Keep telling me who you are. I’ll tell you about my life in Maine. We’ll explore.” That thumb stroked higher along her cheek, along her jaw. “I’m going to show you pleasure, but I also want to be sure you want this.”
“That sounds frustrating.”
“Maybe. But our future depends on what kind of foundation we make here and now. What if I imprint on you tonight, and down the line you can’t stand the way I fold socks?”
She giggled. “Wait! How do you fold socks?”
He cringed a little, making her laugh more. “I don’t. I leave them in the laundry basket.”
Groaning, she shook her head. “Well, that’s one thing I can do for you, then.”
The smile disappeared. “I don’t want you folding my socks.”
“Callum.” She sighed.
They really were from two different worlds. It was expected of her to launder and fold her father and her brother’s washing. Callum didn’t want her doing chores on his behalf. Her father wasn’t going to like him. “If we’re going to take this slow, can we keep it secret too?”
“Secret?” He raised a brow.
“I don’t want the pack to know yet.”
“Elliot already knows.”
“So does Rafe,” Vivian confirmed. “But the rest of the pack doesn’t need to know.”
“You don’t want your father to know.”
“Or Thatcher.”
Callum tensed. “We’ll keep it quiet. For now.”
“Will you meet me here? In the evenings?”
“That sounds great. We’ll get to know one another. Have late-night date-nights.”
“I’d really like that.” Her smile was more genuine than she’d ever remembered.
Something changed in his gaze, but Vivian didn’t understand just what the heated look meant until he placed his other hand on her thigh, just above her knee, and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I don’t want you to think for even a second that I don’t want you. I’ve never been so hard in my life, never been more attracted to anyone, but I have to go now, or I’m not going to be able to resist you any longer.”
His lips closed over her earlobe, the tip of his tongue touching the rim before he released her. His nose skimmed along her neck. Willing, she tilted her head to the side, eager for more of the amazing feelings he was rousing in her.
“This was one hell of a welcome, and in return for offering so much more than just this sexy, sweet body of yours, I promise I’m going to teach you all the best ways for us to find pleasure in our mating.”
Her eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. A small moan escaped her.
But then he was gone, across the room, opening the hatch. He glanced back. “Tomorrow? Same time?”
All she could manage was a nod before watching him disappear.
Her entire life she’d been longing for and dreading her mating. It had been the promise of something great, of an escape. It had been a threat that her existence would continue to be miserable, meaningless, and void of pleasure.
She no longer had to fear it.
She’d known about the basics of lovemaking. She knew the base positions and instructions as her mother had described to her. It seemed too mechanic to her.
Tonight, that all changed.
Even the few novels her aunt had given her were tame in comparison to how she felt when Callum was nearby.
She ached. She wanted. She needed.
Running to the window, she looked down to see him vanish between the trees and into the darkness of the night.
Her teeth sunk into her lip as she considered the bed. Moments later she laid down, and with his scent still filling her nostrils, the feel of his touch lingering on her skin, she reached between her legs and tried to make sense of the sensations. Of the ache. Of the wetness.
Inexperienced, she only ended up more frustrated, unsure of what exactly she needed and how to accomplish the illusive orgasm she’d heard about from some of the older females in the pack.
Tomorrow, she’d figure out how to ask Callum for what she needed. Even if she died from embarrassment, she was going to ensure his getting to know one another plan involved bodily knowledge, too.
She’d waited long enough.