Gwen’s POV
“What were you thinking going on the run by yourself without telling anyone? Aren’t kings supposed to always have someone accompanying them?”
When I get no answer, I look up from the wound I’m cleaning on his chest to his face. He’s watching me, the corner of his lip turned up slightly as if in amusement.
“What?” I question, wondering what’s funny about this situation.
“Is this where you scold me?” he asks.
“Damn right it is,” I reply right away. “What would have happened to you if we hadn’t come looking? What if there were more of them–”
“I’m fine now, aren’t I?”
I groan and put away the cotton wad. “If you do something like that again, I’ll be the one beating you up.”
He chuckles and tries to sit up, but I press a palm to his chest to keep him down. “Will you at least stay still?”
“We heal fast, Gwen. I can barely feel the scratches at this point.”
I give a doubtful look at the wound I just finished disinfecting. “I’m not sure about that.”
True, the majority of the other scratches have healed up, but the gashes made by claws on his chest are still looking a little raw. He insisted that he doesn’t need to dress the wound, that it’ll be closed in a few hours. Well, it’s been almost twelve hours since we found him and it hasn’t closed up yet.
“Is vampire blood poisonous?”
He shakes his head. “It’s the other way around. Our blood is poisonous to vampires.”
“So they can’t bite us?”
“Not unless they are suicidal.”
“That means vampires are afraid of werewolves, right?”
“Does that make you happy?”
“Of course! If there are blood-sucking monsters around, I want them to be afraid of me.”
He chuckles and reaches up to thread his fingers through my hair. “They shouldn’t worry you. I’ll make sure none get anywhere close to you.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing one,” I say. I mean, what would it hurt if they can’t bite me?
“You do know that they have other abilities, right? Mind control. Telepathy. Telekinesis. They can teleport. Sometimes their fangs are the last thing they need to attack you.”
“Right. There are still many things about this world that I don’t know.”
For one, I never would have guessed that the best steroids for werewolves is vampire blood. Apparently, the werewolf who attacked Stefan last night had fed on vampire blood, immensely increasing his power and speed.
It was a surprise to everyone because vampires haven’t been in the region for a long time, and two, it meant there was a werewolf who had either captured one or was in cahoots with one to fight against Stefan.
An alliance between a vampire and a werewolf is however very unlikely, so I’ve heard, and the popular guess was that there had to be a captured vampire somewhere being used as a blood source. And we all know one werewolf with a knack for imprisoning supernaturals for his use–Theodore.
“You’ll learn with time,” he assures me. “Now, will you allow me to rise? I need to meet with the others to discuss this development.”
“You don’t need to go anywhere, they can come to you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I yelp when a second later, he wraps his arm around my waist and hauls me onto the bed, bringing me to his other side. For someone who survived an attack just last night, he sure is strong.
“Do I need to convince you that I’m capable of moving around?” he asks, positioning his body above mine, caging me into the mattress.
I look down at his chest. “Your wound–”
My words get lost between our lips as he swoops down to kiss me. While his lower body is pressing down on mine, he’s keeping his chest out of contact by resting on his elbows, so I stop worrying about his wound and kiss him back.
It occurs to me that it has been almost a week since we were intimate like this. After that night at the club, he left the next day to begin the project at the old pack house. And when I showed up there yesterday, he left on his little misadventure and we had to bring him back to the mansion during the night. Not a lot of opportunities for a personal rendezvous.
It doesn’t take long into the kiss for all my worries to take a backseat to the desire suddenly running through my veins. But a few times, I have to remind myself at the last second to not wrap my arms around his back to pull him to me.
When he breaks up the kiss, he trails his lips along my jaw to my ear. “I missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over my skin and eliciting delicious shivers.
I gulp, bringing up my hand to bury my fingers into his hair. “I missed you too.”
Sleeping alone in this bed for the past three nights that he spent at the old pack house was torture, and there wasn’t a second I didn’t wish he was with me. The days were a little easier to get through, since I was busy familiarising with the club business, where I’m going to be working soon.
He peppers kisses behind my ear and down to my neck and throat. He reaches between us with one hand and starts working on the sash holding my nightdress together. Once it’s untied, he pushes the satin cloth apart, exposing my stomach and chest.
His lips continue their journey south, skimming over my collarbone and towards my cleavage. He turns his attention to my breasts, wrapping his lips around my left nipple while teasing the other with his fingers. My hold in his hair tightens as his tongue and fingers do wicked things to me, putting me at his mercy.
Just when I think the sensations swamping my body are going to overwhelm me, he abandons my chest and moves towards my abdomen, brushing light kisses on my skin as he goes. My hands switch from his hair to his shoulders, grasping to him as if it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
When his body is situated between my legs, the only thing separating my weeping sex from his mouth a pair of sheer lace panties, he looks at me, his grey eyes dark with lust. “If you still don’t think I should be exerting myself, maybe we should stop here.” While he says that, he runs his hand along the inside of my upper thigh, causing me to hold my breath when he gets high enough to brush his fingers against my crotch, only to pull away a second later. “I mean, your scent is already driving me crazy, who knows what–”
“Point made,” I interrupt him, knowing where he’s going with this. Fine, he has proven he is not a weak invalid. But if he keeps stalling, I might just sit on his face to save him the physical exertion.
A wave of heat rolls through my body at the image in my mind, and with the look he gives me, I imagine my body has given my dirty thoughts away in some way.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Nothing.” When his eyes narrow and he makes no move to address the arousal he has stoked in me, I groan and reach between my legs.
He snags my hand before I can touch myself. “Did I ask for help?”
“Maybe you need it.” I roll my hips into the mattress, and the movement draws his eyes where his attention should be. But the next words out of his lips tell me he has no intention of doing anything about it anytime soon.
“Maybe you’re right. How about you give me a show?”
“Stefan,” I whine. Wasn’t he in a hurry to meet up with the others? Why is he suddenly acting like he has all the time in the world?
When he runs the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip and brings my hand to the waistband of my panties, I know there’s no going back. “Go on, show me how much you want me.”
I end up giving him the show he wants. By the time he stops being a little tease and gives me the release I’m dying for, I almost cry in relief. At the end of it all, I’m the one who has trouble getting out of bed because my legs suddenly feel boneless.
“I’ll see you later,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead while buttoning up a shirt. I’ve managed to convince him to at least tape gauze over his wound to avoid irritating it with his shirt.
“I’ll be down soon,” I tell him. As soon as I get back feeling in my legs and clean up. I also want to be up to date with whatever is going on.
When he leaves, a thought that crossed my mind for a moment in the middle of our love-making makes its way back to my mind. I put it aside when it first occurred, but now that I’m no longer feeling like I’m suspended somewhere in the clouds, it returns to the forefront of my mind.
There was no hint of that intoxicating scent that usually emanates from his skin whenever we are intimate.