"Fine. Why don't you take the next few weeks and stay with your mate while she is marked? We'll take care of Fang in the meantime."
Did he dare trust that offer?
"Are you sure?"
"Oui, cher. You can trust some animals, even bears. I promise you, your brother is safe here, but your mate, she's not safe alone while she carries your scent on her."
Nicolette was right. If, as he suspected, his pack was looking for them, their scouts might find his scent around Bride. She would carry it as long as she bore his mark, and a trained Were-Hunter would be able to sniff her out.
There was no telling what his enemies might do to her.
"Thank you, Nicolette. I owe you."
"I know. Now go and be with your human while you can."
Vane nodded, then flashed back to Bride's side.
She was still asleep on her couch. Lying on her back, she looked extremely uncomfortable. Her legs were bunched up and she had one arm over her head while the other dangled off into nothingness.
Tenderness flooded him as he remembered the way she had looked as she came for him. The sight of her face in the mirror as he held her.
She was a passionate woman. One he ached to taste again and again.
Against his common sense, he reached out and touched her soft cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped.
Bride sat up with a hiss as she thought she saw Vane standing over her.
"Vane?"
The wolf padded around the couch to sit beside her.
Confused, she looked around, then gave a nervous laugh. "Boy, am I hallucinating or what? Oh yeah. Looney Tunes, here I come."
Shaking her head, she lay back down and tried to go back to sleep, but as she did, she could swear she smelled Vane's scent on her skin.
For two days, Vane stayed in wolf form as he watched over Bride, but with every minute of it, he felt as if he were being brutally tortured. His natural instinct was to claim her.
If she were a she-wolf, he would be inside her even now, showing her his prowess and authority.
The beast inside him demanded the courtship. The human in him It scared him most of all. Neither part was listening to his cool, calm rationale. Not that he really had any of that where she was concerned.
Around her, he had a raging hormonal surge so profound it made a tsunami look like a toddler's wave pool.
His need to touch her was becoming so ferocious that he was even afraid to be with her now.
A few minutes ago, in wolf form, he'd run out the door to try and get a grip on himself before he returned to her shop for more torment. Every time she moved, it made his blood heat. The sound of her voice, the lick she gave her long, graceful fingers as she flipped through the pages of her magazines, it was all torture for him.
It was killing him.
You wish.
Really, he was beginning to. Death had to be preferable to this. Where were the assassin wolves when he needed them? Yeah, pain. That was the answer.
Nothing like severe pain to curb his sexual appetites.
Think of something else.