Page 34 of Untamed

I brush my thumb once over his cheek. “Then you lead.” He rises onto his knees and kisses me slowly at first, and the want stays warm in the bond when his mouth meets mine. After a few seconds he takes one of my hands and sets it at his waist, leaving the other where it is until the kiss deepens on his choice. The soreness in my shoulder keeps the fight from becoming something either of us can pretend away.

The first time I shift beneath him, panic snaps through the bond. Orion immediately leans back, breathing harder, and I go still with him instead of reaching after him. His hand stays at my shoulder while he gets his breathing back under control, and I keep both hands exactly where he left them. “Need to stop?”

He shakes his head after a few seconds. “Slow.” I repeat it once so he knows I heard him and don’t move again until he does. Orion comes back to me by degrees, one hand braced on my shoulder and the other at the side of my neck while he decides the pace. When he kisses me again, it’s softer, and when he presses closer I let him set the pressure until the panic recedes instead of being pushed aside.

He stays straddled over my thighs after the kiss breaks, breathing against my mouth while one hand remains at the side of my neck. The want in the bond never disappears, even while his breathing slows and the last of the panic ebbs. I keep my hands at his waist and wait for him to close the distance again. “Still want this?”

“Yes. I want to control the pace.” Orion’s thumb moves once against my jaw while he says it. He stays straddled over my thighs and keeps his weight where he chose it.

My hands stay at his waist. “Then you do.” I don’t move them when Orion reaches between us and opens my pants himself.

The first touch of his hand around me pulls a breath from my chest, but I don’t thrust into his grip. He watches my face for a second, then leans down and kisses me while his hand keeps moving slowly between us. Want warms the bond again while my shoulder still burns where he clawed me and his split lip brushes mine when he kisses me. He shifts higher onto my lap and pushes my shirt up enough to put his palm against my stomach.

When I touch the outside of his thigh, his body tightens for half a second and I stop immediately. Orion closes his eyes, breathes once, then moves my hand back where it was. “Slow.” I repeat the word and stroke my thumb along his thigh without moving any higher until his body loosens again.

He’s the one who reaches for the oil from the side table, slicks his fingers, and works himself open while I stay beneath him. Watching him prepare himself sends heat low through me, but I stay where he put me. The first finger makes his body tighten, the second takes longer, and by the time he reaches for me again the tension in his thighs has eased and there’s no panic in the bond. When he finally lifts himself over me, I brace both hands on his hips and wait.

Orion lowers himself slowly, stopping twice to breathe before taking more. His forehead comes down against mine when I’m fully inside him, and neither of us moves for several seconds. His hands remain steady at my shoulders even though his breathing doesn’t.

“You okay?” I ask without shifting beneath him. I keep my grip light at his hips and wait for him to decide whether the stillness is enough.

Orion nods, then makes himself answer aloud. “Yes.” His forehead stays against mine for another breath before he moves.

I keep still until Orion rocks his hips once, testing the movement, then again with more confidence. He sets the rhythm from there, slow at first, one hand planted on my shoulder away from the claw marks while the other grips the back of the chair. Every time his breathing changes, I feel it in the bond before I see it on his face. When I want to pull him harder onto me, I ask with my hands and wait until he leans into the pressure.

Another flicker of panic catches at the edge of the bond, and Orion stops on his own. I stop with him before he has to tell me anything. His breathing evens while I stay still beneath him, and he watches my face for a long moment before his hand settles back at my shoulder. Then he starts moving again at the pace he chose.

My shoulder burns when his fingers brush too close to the scratches, and his swollen lip makes me remember my fist every time he kisses me. Orion slows once when he catches the pain through the bond, shifts his hand away from the claw marks, then starts moving again only after I pull him closer. He comes with his forehead pressed to mine and my name rough in his mouth. I follow a few breaths later, holding his hips without dragging him down harder than he wants, and afterward he stays on my lap until both of us stop shaking.

Later, Orion sits on the bathroom counter while I wet a cloth under the tap. His lower lip is swollen where I hit him, and seeing the split up close makes my stomach turn again. I tip his chin toward the light. “Hold still.” He gives me a look but does, flinching once when I press the cloth gently to the split before staying put while I clean away the dried blood.

His eyes stay on my face the whole time instead of dropping to my shoulder. “Your turn,” he says when I finish. I turn enough for him to see the four claw marks running from the top of my shoulder toward my arm, shallow now that the bleeding has stopped. Orion’s face tightens before he can hide it.

I catch the look on his face before he turns away. “Don’t turn staring at my shoulder into penance. Clean it.” I hold out the clean cloth instead of softening the order into reassurance.

Orion’s mouth tightens. “I wasn’t.” He takes the cloth anyway and looks at the scratches again before meeting my eyes.

I raise my eyebrows until he huffs. “You were.” I leave it there and turn my shoulder toward him so he can reach the marks.

His fingers are careful around the scratches, and mine stay braced against the counter beside his thigh while he wipes away the last dried blood. Neither of us apologizes again. When we go back into the kitchen, the wall is still cracked and one coffee mug is sitting cold beside the books Orion knocked crooked hours ago. He looks at the wall for a long moment before glancing at me. “We should probably fix that.”

Chapter Nineteen

Orion

The morning air smells like wet pine and old grease from the mess hall. I keep my pace steady on the gravel, boots grinding small stones into the path while I put another row of houses between me and ours. Arlo is back there with coffee, probably staring at the wall the way he does when he is working through a problem. I told him I needed to walk, and he let me go without asking where.

The permanent bond keeps him warm at the back of my mind as the paved road gives way to dirt between the supply warehouses and the trees. He is home and safe, and I hold on to that while the residential noise fades behind me. By the time I reach the warehouses, I can hear my own boots, a truck idling somewhere past the fence, and guards changing posts behind me. Nothing else moves until someone says my name.

“Mr. Cavell.” I stop. Two men are standing beside a storage shed, one in a white lab coat I do not recognize and the other in a charcoal suit that looks too expensive for Wolfscorge. Neither man has a guard with him, which means they either think I cannot hurt them or they know I will not. The suit’s hands stay loose at his sides while the doctor keeps a tablet tucked against his chest.

“We’ve been looking for a moment to speak with you privately,” the suit says. He does not come closer. He does not need to.

A growl gathers at the back of my throat and stays there. I keep my voice human because giving either man proof of volatility before they explain why they stopped me would be stupid. “Talk while I’m walking.” I take one step toward the road, but the doctor speaks before either of them follows.

“It’s about Arlo Maddox.” The doctor glances at the tablet as if he needs the file to remember Arlo is a person. “He is a remarkable Alpha. Strategic, biologically anomalous, and unfortunately supported by a file that remains very precarious.”

Arlo’s name changes everything. I stop moving and step close enough to smell sterile soap on the doctor’s skin, every instinct suddenly measuring the distance between these men and my mate. “Arlo is compliant. You got the permanent bond you wanted, and he has given you no reason to touch his placement.” My hands start to curl, so I force them open again.