Chapter 12: The Worshipping
The silence in the Alpha quarters was a living thing, heavy with the echo of Marcus’s threats. Charlie stood at the window, staring into the blackness of the forest, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She could still see his sneer, hear the condescension in his voice.A little bitch who doesn’t know her place. The words were nails hammered into old, half-healed scars.The soft rustle of paper made her turn. Rennick was at his desk, a map of the northern territories spread before him, his brow furrowed in concentration. The firelight caught the silver in his eyes and the sharp line of his profile. He was a study in contained power, but the worry for her was a quiet hum she felt in her own chest, a second heartbeat.“You’re thinking too loud,” he said, without looking up.
“Someone has to,” she replied, the attempt at lightness falling flat.He finally lifted his gaze. The intensity there, the sheer focus, momentarily stole her breath. He saw the shadow in her eyes, the tension coiling her shoulders. He pushed his chair back and stood, the movement fluid and predatory.“Come here.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a low command that vibrated through the bond, pulling at her.She didn’t move. He crossed the room, the space between them dissolving until he was right in front of her. He didn’t touch her, just looked down, his presence enveloping her.
“He can’t hurt you here,” Rennick said, his voice a gravelly promise.
“It’s not about being hurt,” she whispered.“It’s about… dragging my shit into your world. Your pack doesn’t need this. A war over a stray.”
His hand came up, fingers gripping her chin gently but firmly.“Look at me.You are not ‘shit.’ You are my mate. My world is yours now.Their war is ours. And we don’t lose.” His thumb brushed over the mating mark on her neck, a deliberate, possessive stroke. A bolt of pure, electric sensation shot down her spine, pooling low in her belly.Her breath hitched.
A slow, knowing smile touched his lips.“There it is,” he murmured.“Stop thinking about him. Think about this.”
He lowered his head, his mouth hovering just above her skin. Then he nipped the mark—not hard, but with a sharp, claiming pressure that was all teeth and promise. She cried out, a short, sharp sound of surprise and intense pleasure, her hands flying to his shoulders to steady herself.
“Rennick…”
“Shhh.” He soothed the same spot with his tongue, a hot, wet contrast that made her knees buckle. He caught her, his arms solid bands around her, and lifted her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried her from the study into the dimly lit bedroom.
He didn’t lay her down gently. He deposited her on the center of the large bed, following her down so his body covered hers, pinning her with his weight.It was overwhelming, perfect. He kissed her then, deep and consuming, his tongue plunging into her mouth with a hunger that mirrored the ache growing between her legs.She could taste the faint bitterness of his worry, the dark spice of his arousal. She met him thrust for thrust, biting his lower lip, drawing a low growl from his chest.
He broke the kiss, breathing harshly.“Clothes.Off. Now.”
His tone brooked no argument. They moved in a frantic, clumsy tangle, pulling and tearing at fabric until it pooled on the floor. The cool air of the room kissed her skin, followed immediately by the searing heat of his gaze.He knelt back on his heels, looking his fill. She lay bare before him, her auburn curls fanned across his pillows, her body flushed and trembling.
“So fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his voice ragged. He hooked his hands under her knees and pushed, spreading her wide open for him.The vulnerability was acute, terrifying, and unbearably exciting. She was completely exposed, her damp sex glistening in the low light.
He didn’t tease. He lowered his head between her thighs and licked a long, flat stripe from her entrance to her clit.Charlie jolted, a broken sob escaping her. He did it again, slower this time, savoring her taste. Then he zeroed in on her clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it with ruthless precision.
“Oh, god, yes, right there,” she babbled, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking more pressure, more friction.He gave it to her. One of his hands slid under her ass, tilting her pelvis, giving him better access.The other hand found her soaked entrance. He pushed two thick fingers inside her in one smooth, devastating thrust.
She cried out, her inner walls clenching around the invasion. He curled his fingers, searching, and found that spot deep inside her that made her vision whiten.He pressed against it as his mouth continued its relentless assault on her clit.
The dual sensation was too much.The coil of pleasure in her abdomen wound tight, unbearably tight. She was panting, her fingers tangled in his dark hair, holding him to her, fucking herself against his face and his hand. “I’m gonna… Renn, I’m gonna come…”
He growled against her, the vibration pushing her over the edge. Her orgasm ripped through her, a violent, convulsive wave that tore a scream from her throat. Pleasure radiated out from her core, burning through every nerve ending.He didn’t stop. He drank from her, lapping up her release as she shuddered, his fingers working her through the last pulses until she was oversensitive and twitching, pushing weakly at his head.
“Too much… please…”
He relented, crawling up her body. He kissed her deeply, forcing her to taste herself on his lips and tongue.It was filthy, intimate. She could smell her own scent, musky and sweet, all over his face.His erection, thick and fiercely hard, pressed against her thigh. The evidence of his own need was a blunt reality. He reached between them, guiding himself to her entrance.The broad head of his cock pressed against her, still fluttering from her climax.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his silver eyes blazing.She did. He pushed forward, burying himself inside her in one slow, inexorable stroke. She was so wet, so open from her orgasm, that he slid in with devastating ease, filling her completely, stretching her to the brink. They both groaned, a shared sound of profound relief and consuming hunger.
He didn’t move for a long moment, just held himself there, buried to the hilt, his forehead against hers. “Mine,” he whispered, a raw truth.
“Yours,” she gasped, the word a surrender and a victory all at once.Then he began to move. He set a deep, punishing rhythm, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in.Each thrust was a claim, a reaffirmation. The slap of skin on skin, the wet sound of their joining, filled the room. He braced himself on his arms, his muscles corded with strain, watching her face with rapt attention.
“You feel so fucking good,” he gritted out, his pace increasing. “So tight around my cock. Taking me so deep.”
The dirty words, spoken in his gravelly voice, stoked the embers of her pleasure back to life. Another orgasm began to build, lower and hotter than the first.She met his thrusts, arching her back, driving him deeper. He shifted his angle, and the next thrust rubbed directly against that sweet, oversensitive spot inside her.
She shattered again. This orgasm was darker, less sharp but more consuming, a slow burn that tightened every muscle before melting her into the mattress. Her inner walls clenched around him in rhythmic pulses, milking his length.It was enough to break his control. With a final, guttural roar, he buried himself as deep as possible and came. She felt the hot, spurting flood of his release inside her, a primal, possessive marking. He collapsed on top of her, his full weight a welcome anchor, his breath hot and ragged against her neck.
They lay tangled like that for long minutes, the only sound their slowing breaths and the crackle of the distant fire. The world, with its threats and challenges, had been pushed back, held at bay by the sanctuary of sweat-slicked skin and shared breath.
Eventually, he shifted, rolling to his side and pulling her with him, keeping them joined.He tucked her against his chest, his arms a fortress around her.His lips brushed her temple.
“Sleep, Charlie,” he murmured, his voice already thick with exhaustion. “I’ve got you. The pack’s got you.”
In the warm, spent darkness, wrapped in the scent of him and sex and safety, she almost believed it. But as sleep began to pull her under, a cold, stubborn thought surfaced.The pack had her. But did she have what it took to be what they needed when the storm, now brewing just beyond the scent markers, finally broke? The question followed her down into uneasy dreams.