Keeping the Wolf Page 5

  Her own father swept her into a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” he murmured almost tearfully.

  “It’s okay, Daddy,” she replied automatically.

  She managed to catch Harold, in between backslaps, staring at her, and for a second, she thought she saw uncertainty in his eyes. Uncertainty about her? She doubted he would tell her even if she asked. She really had no idea what life with him would be like, but she was about to find out.

  Chapter Six

  Harold growled as he finally made it to his room. The reception had been interminable.

  His pack was by no means small, and everyone had wanted his attention. Apart from when they cut the cake together and their first dance, he had barely even spent any time with his wife. Even their dance was cut short as his brother decided to cut in. Though that wasn’t for long as her father soon whisked her away for a dance, and kept her for the next four dances.

  Harold huffed at her family’s attitude. It was rather too late if they were trying to protect her from him. They had already signed her over to him!

  Added to the demands of his pack were the business problems – they seemed never ending.

  Finally free from demands and requests, it was to find his bride had already gone up to their room. Would she be angry at him for ignoring her? Or perhaps pleased because she didn’t wish to spend any time with him? Neither option appealed.

  He loosened his tie and noiselessly moved through the suite. Her suitcases and his small case were where his pack mates had left them earlier, still waiting to be unpacked.

  He sniffed, and a wave of her spicy scent hit him. He followed his nose leading him out onto the balcony. She perched on the ledge, staring into the night as one foot dangled to and fro. She still wore her gown but her shoes were gone, and her bright red curls tumbled down her back. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight.

  He stood painfully still, ogling her until it verged on awkward.

  He cleared his throat and Christine whipped her head in his direction. She blinked at him a few times before smiling politely.

  “There you are. I thought you got lost downstairs.”

  He moved to her side. “I apologize. My pack mates are rather needy at times.”

  Christine shook her head. “Don’t apologize. Pack weddings – when they do happen - are more about the pack than the actual couple getting married. I remember when my sister got married we ended up sitting in her room getting drunk because her mate was off with his alpha half the night.”

  Harold frowned. “I thought you were the eldest daughter in your family.”

  “I am. Cissy is a year younger. She couldn’t come today – she’s pregnant and on bed rest.”

  To be fair, Christine had two sisters and two brothers, and many aunts, uncles, and cousins, and apart from her parents only one of the brothers and one of the sisters came to the wedding. He didn’t believe it was because they were not a close-knit family, more that they didn’t approve of the marriage.

  “Was it an arranged…”

  “No, not at all,” she replied quickly, almost embarrassed. “She just found her mate very young – they’ve been inseparable since they were ten. He’s another red wolf, but from another pack – hence the wedding.”

  He frowned and she explained, “In my pack, we don’t usually have weddings – just matings. Only alphas usually get married. But since they were from different packs, and she’s the daughter of an alpha, my dad thought it was a good idea.” Christine leaned slightly closer to him, and told him confidentially, “I think my dad just wanted the chance to schmooze the other pack.”

  Harold nodded. “I understand that.” He undid his cufflinks and dropped them in his pocket. “But in my pack, marriages are more common that matings. Or should I say, our pack.”

  “Right.” Christine huffed a laugh and rubbed her neck. “Still hard to wrap my head around that.”

  “Indeed.” He stared into the black night.

  “How’s your hand?” she asked.

  “What?” He stared down at both of his hands, turning them over, before looking at her questioningly.

  “Given the way people were shaking it earlier, I figured you must have sprained it by now.”

  She grinned at him, and he let out a short chuckle at her playfulness.

  “I believe it is fine, thank you.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  He smiled in return. She was very… easy to smile at. He couldn’t imagine a person not wanting to smile at her. Even a – as Jonathan always called him – cold fish like him. Speaking of…

  “Did you get a chance to meet my family?”

  “Yes, they seemed really nice. Your sister is very quiet.”

  Harold winced slightly. “My parents adopted her a few months ago. Her parents were pack mates, and they passed away. She does not tend to speak much.”

  In fact, she had barely spoken two words at all. She usually just stayed with their youngest brother William, clutching his hand while the nine-year-old pup glared at everyone, daring them to say anything.

  Christine’s face creased in pity. “Poor girl.”

  Harold pushed his somber mood aside.

  “Did you have enough food?”

  Christine rolled her eyes and smirked. “Enough to feed a small army. Your mother sure knows how to order food. But I didn’t actually get any wedding cake. After we cut it, your grandmother whisked me away to introduce me to more of your pack mates. Did you try any?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

  “Oh, I do, and it smelled delicious.”

  Harold pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. Before the man could get out a word, he said, “Ensure that some of my wedding cake is delivered to my house tomorrow.”

  He rang off and froze as Christine gaped at him.

  “My assistant, Thomas,” he explained. “He’ll make sure there is some for you tomorrow.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Harold,” she murmured, “it’s after midnight. You may have woken him.”

  Harold arched an eyebrow. “I doubt it, but even if I had, he would understand.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “He’d understand being woken up for cake? Couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow morning?”

  He shrugged and felt slightly foolish under her gaze. He had wanted to ensure his wife got what she wanted, though a part of him was trying to show off to her. To show her what he could do for her, that although his pack has demands on his time, that she would still be important to him. Now he felt like a complete jackass. “Thomas is well paid for his troubles,” he said lamely.

  Christine looked at him doubtfully. “My boss was hardly a peach, but even she wouldn’t wake me up for that. An e-mail would have sufficed.”

  Disappointment welled.

  “But thank you,” she added. “I would like some of our cake.”

  “You are welcome,” he murmured. He cleared his throat and grasped at a different subject. He turned and perched on the ledge next to her. “Where did you work?”

  “At an interior design company.”

  “Ah yes, I recall my parents telling me you hold a degree in design.”

  Christine rubbed at her arms. “Yeah, I got a job as an assistant to a designer in Dallas. She was kind of a diva, but at least she let me get my beauty sleep.”

  She gave him a sly look and he couldn’t help the grin. As if she needed sleep to make her more beautiful.

  “Consider me chastised.”

  He wasn’t sure he would change his behavior – he worked long hours and required an assistant who would be available at any time of day. He had two assistants, one general assistant – Thomas – but in the office, he also had an administrative assistant called Linda who he had inherited from his father and guarded his office door as if her life depended on it. His previous assistant had gone on to an even better job, based on his experience with Harold and on Harold’s recommendation – which was why Harold doubted Thomas would be pu
t out by any of his demands.

  She rubbed her arms again.

  “You are cold,” he pointed out.

  “Going to give me your jacket?” she asked, verging on flirtatiously.

  Naturally, he failed to respond in kind. His flirting ability was about on par with that of a bowl of clam chowder.

  “Then I would be cold. I suggest we go inside.”

  Christine beamed. “Good thinking, Batman.”

  He winced, and she caught it. “Something I said?”

  “When we were younger, my brothers Arthur and Jonathan used to play Batman and Robin, and I was always Alfred.”

  She burst into a torrent of musical laughter, and even his irritation at his younger brothers couldn’t stop him from joining in.

  “Could have been worse,” she said through hiccups. “You could have been Batgirl.”

  He stood and took her hand, leading her back into their room.

  “I rather liked Batgirl, with all her red hair…”

  “Oh, really?” she murmured with a toss of her own red hair.

  He turned quickly, ostensibly to shut the balcony door and draw the curtains, but really it was to stop her from seeing his blush. He busied himself removing his jacket, shoes, and socks, and making sure his phone was charging for the remainder of the night. He certainly could not afford for it to go flat. He flicked through a few text messages.

  “Would you like some champagne?” she asked. “Your grandmother sent some up to the room.”

  “No.” He scowled as he turned his phone off. One of the messages was from the pack’s chief lawyer, Graham. Harold had spoken to him briefly about making Christine co-owner of his house, and a joint signature on his bank accounts. Apparently, his grandmother had put the kybosh on that. She wanted to make sure Christine was sticking around before anything like that happened. He would talk to his father about this. Interfering old…

  “Harold?”

  He looked up. Christine was standing in the center of the room, watching him uncertainly.

  He put his phone down.

  “It’s late,” he murmured. “We should go to bed.”

  Her chest rose, and her eyes swam with amber. He wasn’t foolish enough to think it was out of lust. She was nervous. Though, he hoped she wasn’t too repulsed by him. Surely under normal circumstances, a lovely creature like her could attract a better-looking mate, but she was stuck with him now.

  Christine nodded. “Can you help me with my dress? The buttons are kind of stiff.”

  She turned and pulled her hair over her shoulder.

  “Of course.”

  He moved to her and fumbled with the line of buttons. Grunting as one or two nearly refused to budge.

  “This dress is like a torture weapon.”

  “Mmmm, it’s designed to look nice, it’s not designed to be comfortable. I’ve barely been able to breathe all day.”

  “Why choose a dress like this then?” he grumbled. Half killing herself for the sake of a dress was hardly sensible.

  She cast a wry look over her shoulder. “I didn’t have the time or money to get one. Your mother chose and paid for this. There wasn’t time to let it out. Her words were, ‘grin and bear it for one day, darling.’”

  He harrumphed. “My mother always considers style to be more important than substance. There.”

  He finished the last button and unlaced the skirt, helping her step out of the frothy concoction. He gathered the huge dress, struggling to fold it, and ended up just wrapping it into a ball and dumping it on the sofa.

  “That’s better,” she breathed.

  “Yes,” he murmured.

  Her underwear was even prettier than the dress. The matching set was cream with delicate flowers. A bustier barely contained her breasts, while the panties dipped low on her hips, exposing her toned, dappled stomach. Those freckles were everywhere. He wondered if they covered her breasts too. He could only see the tops that bulged out of the bustier. His fingers itched to find out.

  Her cheeks colored and they watched each other for a few moments.

  “I’m still on the pill,” she blurted. “I know that according to our agreement I have to give you a son within five years, but I didn’t think either of us would want me to get pregnant right away.”

  “Agreed,” he said softly.

  Christine blew out a breath of relief. “Have you read the full agreement?”

  “Actually, I have.”

  He thought it best considering his grandmother’s duplicitous nature to check over the agreement personally. He knew all the ins and outs.

  “A male child within the first five years and at least one more within the next five after? Little high handed, right?”

  “I’m in line to be alpha after my father. My grandmother and parents wanted to ensure they could secure the next alpha after me.”

  That didn’t seem to surprise her; she must have known about that part of the agreement as well.

  “It doesn’t seem to bother you – your family planning your kids for you.”

  “I’ve known I would have an arranged mating since I was thirteen – since my first shift. None of this is a surprise to me.”

  Christine folded her arms. “Yeah, well, the examination your doctor gave me sure surprised me.”

  “I am sorry for that. I admit that part surprised me, too.” He had thought his family would at least take her word for it that she wasn’t already pregnant. But no, he found out after it happened, that his grandmother flew the family doctor over to Texas to check her out personally.

  “Well, I guess they had to check I was fertile. Can’t risk me not being able to produce the next alpha.”

  Her mouth bunched and her pale skin flushed. It was the first time she had allowed a hint of bitterness to enter her tone. He was amazed she had managed to control herself this long.

  “You are tired.”

  “A little,” she admitted wearily. “But not too tired. I know we need to… you know.”

  Yes, another part of the agreement. They were required to consummate the relationship within twenty-four hours, lest they think they could avoid coupling at all. His grandmother thought of everything.

  “It can wait if you wish to sleep first.”

  Though truthfully, he did not wish to wait a moment longer, and the sight of her in only her underwear certainly wasn’t helping.

  She graced him with a small, knowing smile. “It doesn’t seem like you want to wait.”

  She could easily scent his desire, and she could see his arousal hardening for her.

  “You are in your underwear – would you not be more surprised if I were not turned on? But I would not force you to do something you did not want. I know you do not wish to be here.”

  Christine shook her head a little sadly. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here. My parents wanted me to agree to the mating, but they didn’t force me to do it. I chose to be here, and I choose to be with my husband. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t have a little trepidation, but I’m not here against my will.”

  “Good.” An inner weight lifted.

  She ran her fingers over her necklace. “Shall we go to the bedroom?”

  “Are those my grandmother’s pearls?”

  “Actually, yes. She gave them to me. I tried to refuse but she insisted, nay demanded I take them and wear them today. I kind of thought you could give them back to her after.”

  “I probably should. She’s been promising them to my mother for years. That’s a fight we can hopefully avoid.”

  He moved to her and reached around her, his face inches from hers. She leaned up and kissed him, her perfect pink lips caressing his. He froze just as he unclasped the pearls.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled tremulously, realizing he had just been removing the necklace. “I thought you wanted a kiss.”

  He shuddered lightly, even as flames licked through his body. He had thought to store the pearls away for later carefully, but rather,
he tossed them on top of her wedding dress.

  “I would like another,” he admitted, surprising himself with his desire.

  She giggled, nervousness ebbing away, and cupped his chin, pulling his lips down to hers. It was as unexpected and unabashed as the first time they kissed. At the altar, he had thought for a quick peck on the lips, but she had given him more – so much more. It had been a fairly chaste kiss of course – he despised overt public displays of affection – but there had been a kindling of fire in that kiss. Now, as her tongue pressed into his mouth, now he really felt that he might light on fire.

  Harold pulled her flush against him, growling into her mouth as her lush breasts pressed against his chest. He ran his hands over her back, reaching down for her peachy buttocks, squeezing the soft flesh. Christine whimpered into her kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. Any worries he had that they would not be compatible, that consummating their marriage would be difficult, disappeared, combusted, burned to a crisp with that kiss.

  She was so warm, so responsive, so soft and perfect for him. Lust surged. He wanted to take her, to make her scream with pleasure.

  Harold tore his lips away from hers, lavishing fluttering kisses over her cheeks, moving down to her neck, onto her chest, planting kisses over her freckles. He licked the tops of her breasts before dropping to his knees; perfect height for those two beauties. Inexpertly, he ripped the bodice apart, tearing it in his impatience to caress his wife.

  Hell, they were beautiful as well. Two round, creamy orbs, dusted with brown freckles and adorned by raspberry pink nipples. Had there ever been a woman who could hold a candle to his wife? At that moment, he doubted it.

  He suckled at her breasts, laving his tongue over her hard nipples. Christine let out mewls of appreciation, enjoying his attention as she held his head to her. He freed her flesh, chuckling at her dismayed whimper and licked his way down her dappled stomach. He kissed her bellybutton, as he made his way down to her panties, down to the real prize he sought. She gasped as he tore the panties away and he growled in delight as he scented her arousal. Arousal for him – she wanted him. He felt like the most powerful man on earth.