This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,108
to be marked, but I don’t want my refusal to be interpreted as rejection.
I breathe carefully in the silence between us as he waits patiently for my answer. His body still rests between my legs. Slowly, I bring my knees up beside his hips and curl my legs around his backside. Equally slowly, cautiously, I brace my left palm against the side of his chest and my right hand against his left shoulder.
He tips his head, wary of my intentions just as my muscles flex and I use my strength to roll us over in a quick maneuver, reversing our position so that he’s beneath me.
With rapid movements, I grab his jaw and his shoulder like he was gripping mine and lower my mouth, as if I’m going to mark him instead.
Tristan jolts, his eyes flying wide. His hands whip around my wrists, stopping me, a growl in his throat warning me not to proceed.
I take a breath, pause for a beat as his muscles flex against mine, a challenge of strength that either of us could win.
Satisfied with his reaction, my lips curve into a smile as I hover dangerously close enough to nip his shoulder. “We refuse to be caged,” I say. “Just like we refuse to be marked. That doesn’t mean I won’t stay at your side, Tristan.”
My tongue darts between my lips, pressing to the chiseled muscle at the top of his arm, tasting the skin without leaving a mark.
He watches me carefully, his hands still clamped around my wrists, ready to take back control. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t need a fucking mark to dictate my loyalty or my trust.”
Slowly unfurling his fingers from around my wrists—an act of trust—he lowers his arms, one coming to rest above his head while the other grazes down my side.
I rebalance myself as I trail kisses down his arm all the way to his palm, drawing his forefinger into my mouth as I sit up, straddling him. He’s already hard again and it’s the most natural act for me to draw him inside me.
I bury my moans against his hand and lose myself to our rhythm as we begin again.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
For the next four nights, I relocate myself to Tristan’s penthouse. I spend my afternoons in the gym with Iyana and Danika, my evenings on patrol, and my midnight hours in Tristan’s bed.
Iyana and Danika don’t ask me for any information that I don’t offer, although they tell me they’re here for me if I need to talk. They still respect Helen’s rules about not asking questions, and I realize that I do, too.
Tristan has so many secrets, so much history that I don’t know, but I won’t ask because I know how painful and destructive it is to drag up the past.
My focus is now on the future.
On the afternoon of the third day, Tristan calls me, Jace, Iyana, and Danika to the meeting room to discuss the plan of attack on Baxter Griffin.
When we arrive, he’s gathered a handful of chairs together in a loose circle and is sitting with his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his clasped hands. He’s dressed in jeans and a perfectly fitted tank. It’s only been a few hours since I left his bed and his gaze heats me all the way to my toes.
Jace has been evasive since the night Bridget was hurt, only approaching me once, yesterday, to tell me that Bridget is recovering well at Hidden House. He’s the last to arrive, dressed in jeans and a bicep-hugging T-shirt that hides his tattoo. He waits for me to choose my seat next to Tristan before he picks his own chair opposite us. Danika and Iyana split up on either side of Jace.
“Tessa and I are going alone,” Tristan says, startling me.
Iyana and Danika both shoot me a no-fucking-way look before they turn to Tristan in unison.
“Not happening. You need backup,” Iyana says.
“Going alone is the best way to get yourselves killed,” Danika asserts.
Tristan turns to me, seeking my opinion next, but I’m slower to give it. He hasn’t spoken to me about specifics, but I sense it’s been churning away in his mind for days, just like it’s started weighing on mine.
“We saw firsthand the kind of allies Baxter has now,” I say. “We’re not only talking about my old alpha, Peter Nash, and his son, Dawson. The supernaturals we encountered the other night might only be the beginning.”