How did she know?
I swallow hard. She’s so fucking young. Soft. Innocent.
Jesus, I hope she’s innocent, at least in the way I need. My inner bear starts to tense as thoughts of her being touched, kissed…fucked by anyone else...nearly push me into a murderous rage right here in my grandmother’s kitchen.
“Wynter…” Gran leads her down the hall until she’s standing only a few inches from my side. “This is my grandson, Ragnar.”
She looks uncomfortable, glancing down at the dogs, then to Gran and back to me.
“Hi. Yeah, we’ve met.”
“Oh!” Gran’s voice is more excited than is called for. “Yes, I do think Josephine mentioned that when I stopped in for a drink with Howard yesterday, on our way back from our massages. Something about some plumbing or work at your shop. Isn’t that right, Ragnar?”
She winks, and if she wasn’t my precious grandmother, to whom I owe everything, I’d be pretty fucking angry right now.
Instead, I manage a grunt and a nod, which only makes Wynter shift her weight from side to side and grip the strap of her backpack with both hands.
Fuck. Why can’t I get this right? I’m acting like an ass when all I want deep down is to take her somewhere and make her mine.
I want to rip her clothes off with my teeth and mark her ivory skin until everyone knows who she belongs to. My dick twitches, thinking about how tight she would be on me. How her juicy cunt would be dripping down my balls as I plant my seed in her womb, my hand on her throat, as I take what I need from my mate.
“I’m sorry.” She blushes, her voice shy. “I can come back another time. I didn’t know you were going to have company.”
Yeah, you didn’t, but she sure did. Meddling Gran.
“We met last week when I went in to pick up my coffee at the The Daily Grind where she was putting up some of her photography. You know how Caroline likes to have local artist’s work for sale there. Our local coffee shop slash art gallery. I’ve wanted professional pictures taken of the babies for so long. Seemed like serendipity. Don’t you think?”
Gran looks between us as I clench my teeth, trying to get my bear and my cock under control.
“Ragnar.” Gran walks around the edge of the counter to where she was starting to prep our breakfast. “Take Wynter outside. Show her the yard and the cabin so she can get some ideas of where to take the pictures while I finish up breakfast.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come back later? I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast.” Wynter looks uncomfortable and I know I’m the cause.
“Pish posh.” Gran waves her hand, holding the knife. “The more the merrier. Besides, you’re new in town and I want you to feel like the Badlands is your home. Ragnar’s lived here his whole life, so I think you two could be good friends. Put your backpack right there on the chair and you two go for a walk and find the perfect spot for my baby’s pictures.” Her eyes twinkle as she stifles a smile, then shoos us out the back-patio door.
Don’t fuck this up. My bear roars as my heart pumps harder and every filthy thing I want to do with her fills my mind.
All the reasons I fought this feeling for the last month fall away, and in their place, all I know is that she is mine. I will take her. Own her.
I will protect her above all else. What happened to my mother at the hands of my father will not happen to us.
As if she’s read my mind, Wynter turns, her topaz-blue eyes wide as she shrugs her shoulders, turning slightly away from me. Then, on a deep breath with the sun on her pink cheeks, she reaches out and touches my arm as I tower over her.
“I’m not so sure I understand all of this shifter stuff.” Her eyes are curious now, not afraid, and I’m so hard I nearly double over from the strain of my erection. But I don’t want to lose contact with her. “But, Josephine explained to me about mates, and…” She bites into her bottom lip. “Is that what’s happening here? Because, otherwise, I think I might be losing my mind…”
“You’re not the only one,” I grunt out, my hand darting to her cheek, the feel of her soft flesh under my fingers making my body bulge and throb as my bear pushes forward to get to her.
“So, can you promise me something?”
“Anything,” I reply, before I realize: as much as I want to give her whatever it is she wants, I’m not sure I can.
“Don’t run away from me anymore.”
“I promise. You have to promise me something too…”