When Olivia saw me inspecting the strange assortment of creatures, she smiled. “Tanner loves animals. All animals. He says he wants to be a veterinarian when he grows up. And Emma—” Her smile made my heart melt even more for her as she reached down and ran fingertips over the little girl’s forehead. “She loves Winnie the Pooh. As you can see.”
I did not know what a Winnie the Pooh meant, but I said nothing, hypnotized by the expression I saw in Olivia’s eyes as she looked at the two children. Her gaze grew rounder, soft. The worry lines disappeared, and her entire face relaxed into contentment.
Love. This was what love looked like on Olivia Mercier’s face, and I hungered for that look to be directed at me. Needed it, more than I needed air to breathe, more than I needed to fill her with my cock and make her scream in pleasure, I needed her like this. Soft and gentle. Accepting and content. Loving.
Without a word I drew her close and held her for long minutes in the silence. She began to sway slowly, side to side, and I moved with her, stroking her back, my mind too full of what I had realized to express it with words, so I touched her instead, prayed to the gods that my hands, the beat of my heart beneath her soft cheek, would be enough. That she would know, sense in the mysterious way females seemed to grasp, what I was feeling, because I wasn’t sure myself. It was too raw, too new to describe. To name. To control.
In the chaos of the Bachelor Beast, I’d found this moment of peace. When I’d transported from The Colony, I never expected to find this, a human of my own and children.
I couldn’t stop the ache that filled my chest, but it was not the pain of a wound. This was different. Lingering. The ache spread, pain moving from my heart to my lungs until it hurt to draw air, up my throat, swelling there so that I could no longer speak, to my face, my eyes, where the pain pooled in the salty, unwelcome heat of unshed tears.
Even when captured by the Hive, I had not felt like this.
I did not cry, had never cried in living memory. Not since I was a very small child at my mother’s knee. But I was helpless to stop them as Olivia’s arms lifted to wrap around my waist and she leaned in to me, melted against me like she was exactly where she wanted to be. With me. Mine.
My beast sniffed, then settled, knowing the one female who belonged to us was in our hold. The children who belonged to her, and thus, belonged to me, safely asleep where I could watch over them.
Longing. That’s what this was. Desperate, vulnerable longing. Longing to be part of her family, to be loved the way she loved these small human children, to finally matter to someone beyond what I could do on a battleship or to enemies in the war. I ached to be accepted as I was now, contaminated and damaged, barely in control of my beast. I longed to be hers. Just her. I needed a home, and she was that now, for me and for my beast.
I shuddered, the act instinctive and impossible to control. That betrayal of my emotions caused her to lift her head, to look up at me. Her gaze widened in shock. “Are you crying?”
“No.” I was not crying. Salted water had overflowed my eye and tracked down my left cheek.
She lifted her hand and wiped the wetness from my face. “Why are you crying?” she whispered.
I shook my head, turned my face to kiss the inside of her palm. “You are so beautiful, mate. Too perfect to be real.”
“I am not—”
I set a finger to her lips to silence her protest. I had already heard all she had to say about her perceived imperfections. She compared herself to other females, which was ridiculous. It was only my opinion on the topic that mattered, and I told her again how I felt. “You are perfect. Beautiful. Soft. I will not hear otherwise, or I will place you over my knee and spank you for treating yourself so poorly.”
She raised her brows at the threat, but there was laughter in her eyes. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I lowered my head and buried my face in the curve of her neck, breathed her in, grounded myself in her existence. “By the gods, Olivia, you are my everything.”
She shuddered in my arms, and I wondered what emotion had caused the tremor, hoped she was feeling what I did. Longing. Need. Desire.
When she pulled away, I was distraught, until she reached out and took my hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before we wake up the kids.” Her voice was so soft I was thankful for my beast hearing.
I followed without question, as I always would, the realization both startling and frightening as the beast settled completely at her command. He had already decided he was hers. He had surrendered completely, and the lack of boiling aggression inside was shocking to my system.
Olivia closed the bedroom door behind us and led me back to the living room. I had no idea what she intended, and I was content to allow her to have her way so long as she didn’t stop touching me. We could sleep. We could fuck. We could talk all night. I could hold her for hours and be content. I was hers.
I had said the words before, meant them at the time, but I did not fully understand the inescapable reality until this moment. Hers. She was not my mate. She was not mine. I was hers. I would protect her, fuck her, kill for her, protect her. HERS.
“Come here, Warlord.”
She pulled me to the couch and indicated I should take a seat next to her. I settled into the cushions and held back a growl when she pulled her small hand free from mine. It would not do to frighten her with my needs. Well, it was too late for that. I’d been insane and insatiable earlier. She knew what she was getting, and she was still here.
I could overpower her, control this situation, but I needed to see what she wanted, how she craved it. She could lead, and I would follow her anywhere.
I was the weak one here, the needy. She was strong. Independent. Caring for two children that were not hers. Working and being the provider.
Alone. She was alone. Like me.
All the lights were out now but one small lamp on the opposite side of the room. The soft light cast an intimate glow on her face, as if she sat before a fire in the dark of night. “You are beautiful, mate.”
Her eyes blinked slowly, but she did not turn away. “Don’t start with that, Warlord. I want to know why you are really here. What are you doing at my house? I’m not a bride. You aren’t supposed to be with me.”
My entire body shuddered as I held back the beast. Without her touch I struggled to remain in control, especially when she spoke such disagreeable words. Perhaps I was not as content as I had assumed. Another shudder passed through me, and my jaw tensed as I clenched my teeth, holding back the transformation.
“What is it?” She frowned, her eyes searching my face. “What’s wrong with you?”
I did not wish to lie to my female, not when the truth was much safer. “My beast is not happy that you broke contact with us. I am having difficulty holding him back.”
“What?” She scooted closer, her adorable nose scrunched in confusion. “You mean you want to hold my hand?” She reached out and took mine between her two small ones.
“He requires touch, mate,” I explained. “He is not human. I am not human.”
She gave a little laugh. “Oh, believe me, I know.” Her tone held what I hoped was humor, but I didn’t worry about it as her hands squeezed mine. The beast calmed. “Better?”
Perhaps a small untruth would do no harm here. “He would settle if you were to sit on my lap.”