We watched Roscoe lope away. “You’ll be sorry,” he muttered, staring back at us and then disappearing into the bushes.
Jackson could have gone after him, but Roscoe had lost a challenge. When you lost a challenge, you let the opponent limp away to lick their wounds. You didn’t attack him again.
And I was here, wounded. The alpha male would never leave the alpha female injured and unprotected.
Jackson’s hand flexed on my shoulder, and then he turned to me, his beautiful mouth hard. His gaze moved over my face, and his fingers gently brushed my chin. “You okay?”
I nodded. “He caught me in a rope trap.”
He examined my wounds, his fingers brushing over them as if he needed to assess them for himself. I could tell he was still pissed. Fury was locked in every muscle of his body. No sign of easygoing alpha here. This Jackson was cold and furious.
“You got here just in time,” I told him softly. “Another moment and I probably would have lost consciousness.” My hand went to my bruised throat. “And Roscoe’s not the type to ease up just because the girl’s unconscious.”
That only made Jackson more angry, and he stared back at the woods where Roscoe had left. I could tell it was killing him not to go after him, but that wasn’t the wolf way. He finally turned back to me. “You sure you’re okay?”
What, did he expect tears? “No, I want to punch something. It’ll be you if you keep asking me if I’m okay.”
A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth and he pulled me close, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Ah, the female alpha.”
I didn’t know if that was admiration or irritation. But I allowed him to hug me close and kiss my forehead, and I let him keep his arm around me as we walked through the woods.
The pack caught up with us as we walked back, and I heard Trina’s worried whining at the sight of my bruises.
“I’m fine,” I told them. “Just had a run in with Roscoe. Jackson chased him off.”
Spence came up and licked my hand, seeking reassurance, while Trina whined and moved closer to Jackson. Even Len loped a bit closer.
“We’re all fine,” I told them again, my voice reassuring. “It’s handled. Jackson took care of it. Roscoe was mad that he was thwarted and he caught me unawares. It won’t happen again. No need to be upset.”
Easy for me to say. I was serene on the outside, but there was a hard pit of anger in my stomach. It wasn’t just anger at Roscoe, either. It was anger at myself, and at Jackson.
If sleeping with Jackson would keep my pack safe, then I needed to do it, and he needed to push me toward it, damn it. No more of this easygoing shit.
Chapter Nine
Jackson was getting good at sensing my moods. By the time we headed up to our shared room (after soothing the rest of the pack again), I was bitterly angry and feeling helpless.
As soon as the door was shut behind us, though, Jackson took one look at my face and pointed me to the bed. “Sit there.”
I thumped to it, seething at my inability to resist his command and my stupid desire to please him that came with talking to an alpha. “Why?”
He went to the bathroom and ran the water, then returned to my side with a wet towel. Jackson sat next to me and his fingers brushed under my chin, tilting my head so he could examine my wounds. “So I can help you clean up.”
I sat there, stewing, while he patted at my bruises and cuts. My one eye was swollen, but I imagined it’d go down by tomorrow. Werewolves healed fast. I’d taken quite a beating, but within a few days I’d be good as new again.
“You wanna tell me why you’re mad?” Jackson asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be mad? That asshole was on my property.” My fists clenched at the memory of Roscoe’s hard face. His hand slapping my ass. The indignity of it all.
“You have every right to be mad about that,” he said, and dabbed at a scratch on my cheek. “I meant why are you mad at me?”
I gave him a narrowed look. “I’m not mad.”
“You are,” he said, putting down the cloth. “You’re vibrating with it. I’ve done something that made you angry. Might as well tell me what it is and how it relates to this Roscoe stuff.”
I swallowed hard. Tried to compose myself. Failed. “You’re not pushing me.”
“Not pushing you?” His brows drew together.
“To consummate this mating,” I hissed at him, then lowered my voice when I was sure the others would pick up on it. “Roscoe could tell I was a virgin.”
Jackson regarded me. “And you’re mad about that?”
“I’m mad because every day that I’m still a virgin is another day that my pack isn’t safe.” I glared at him. “And you haven’t even kissed me.”
He studied my face. “I don’t want you to make a decision like that under duress. You have to be ready to move forward.”
“My pack depends on me moving forward—“
“Your personal life is yours. It’s not your pack’s.”
I began to get irritated with his attitude. “It’s intertwined.”
“To an extent. But you have to make decisions for you.”
Was he not listening to me? I was trapped on all sides. “Everything I do is for the good of the pack.”
“I know. But I want you to make one decision for yourself.” His fingers lightly touched my jaw again, examining my battle wounds.
“You’re not making this easy for me,” I said testily. “You’re supposed to kiss me and seduce me. You’re the alpha.”
“You’re an alpha, too,” he told me. And then his thumb brushed over my lower lip. “You want me to kiss you?”
I grew flustered at his direct, piercing gaze. I could still see flickers of wolf in his eyes - as it was probably still in mine. How did I answer that? Would saying yes mean showing throat to him? Could I let go of even a little bit of pride to ask for what I wanted?
“Shouldn’t we kiss?” I asked, letting my bluster answer for me.
That slow smile spread across his face. “I figured what we did last night was more intimate than kissing.”
My throat went dry, thinking of last night. My slick hands moving over his cock, and how it had made me hot just to touch him.
“But maybe you need to kiss?” Jackson asked softly. He moved a little closer to me on the bed, and I suddenly remembered that we were both still naked and sweaty from our run in the woods. His scent overwhelmed me, as did the nearness of all that bare, tanned skin.
Jackson studied my face a moment longer. “Does your mouth hurt?”
I studied his lips, in a daze with how close they were to mine. It was a strange thing to ask. My breasts ached, the nipples tight. Even my sex felt achy. Empty. But my mouth? “Does my mouth hurt?” I echoed, confused.
“Did he hit you in your mouth?”
Oh. A flush hit me again. That was what he’d been talking about? I felt foolish. “No, my mouth is okay.” Was he going to kiss me or not?
“Good,” he said, and leaned in, his hand sliding to the back of my neck and pulling me closer to him.
His mouth closed over mine.
I was startled at how fast it happened. I was kissing Jackson. I could feel the scruff of his unshaven jaw against the edge of my mouth, scraping against my cheek. In contrast, his lips felt firm against my own. He sucked lightly on my lower lip while I was still processing all the sensations, and I gasped. He continued to suck on my lower lip, then began to kiss my upper lip, caressing me in slow, careful motions. My eyes closed and I let the sensations move over me.
His tongue slicked between my parted lips.
I moaned and my skin prickled with awareness. Oh…wow. I clung to him, needing his body against mine, and my nipples brushed against his bare chest, sending twin pinpricks of arousal through my body. His tongue stroked deeper into my mouth, thrusting, and it send an odd, thrilling quiver deep inside me. He slicked into my mouth again, his tongue tangling with mine, and I began to respond to the kiss, opening my mouth for his invasion and holding onto him as he made love to my mouth. Soon, I was slick with need all over again, my pulse pounding, and the scent of my arousal hung in the air between us.