Fair Game (Alpha & Omega #3)(47)
Author: Patricia Briggs

She swallowed him down, claiming him, man and wolf, in the most basic way possible.

"I am yours," he said, a finger under her chin dislodging her claim. "And you" – he moved his hands under her shoulders and pulled until she was all the way on top – "are mine."

Her jeans were in the way so he rolled her to the side and stripped her shoes, pants, and underwear off in three quick motions. He pulled her back on top with hands that were more urgent than gentle and slid inside her.

She closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of the slow burn, the slick pressure and warm friction that meant he was hers. Then he grabbed her hips and asked, so she moved – and quit thinking altogether.

Limp and well loved, Anna panted on top of Charles. As the last tingles died down, she started to think again instead of just feel.

"Did we," she whispered, feeling the blush start at her toes and travel all the way out to her ears. "Did we really make love while everyone was listening? Right out in the open? When there might be a bad guy we can’t see or hear watching?" She might have squeaked the last word.

Underneath her, Charles laughed, his belly bouncing her up and down. He felt resilient and relaxed, like a cat bathing in the sun. "All I was trying to do was get you to call up your wolf so she could fight off the black magic that was making you doubt yourself." He paused and the relaxation faded. "Making you doubt me." He rubbed her back. "I made you doubt me."

Anna tucked her head in the hollow of his shoulder and closed her eyes, but hiding didn’t work. After a minute, she laughed helplessly. "There is no saving it, is there? We might as well go face the music."

Anna sat up and lifted her head to scent the air. All she smelled was green growing things, Charles, sex, and the ocean air. "The wrongness is gone," she told him.

He frowned and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. "From here," he said. "Not from the whole island. That’s interesting." Then he looked up at her and smiled. "I think we’d better pull ourselves back together. They’re waiting for us."

Anna stood up and he handed her his T-shirt. She cleaned up as best she could, handed him back his shirt, and then climbed back into her clothes. He was faster, since he had only to zip his jeans. She was brushing the dirt off one of her socks when he took the shirt and pressed it against a tree.

She watched him as she put on a shoe and started dusting off another shoe.

Charles murmured to the tree in what she was pretty sure was his native speech – which he very seldom used. He and Bran were the only ones left who spoke it as his mother’s band of people had used it, a variant of the Flathead tongue. It made him feel sad and alone to use it, he told her once, and he and his father communicated quite nicely in English, Welsh, or any number of other languages.

Clothed and shod, she ran her fingers through her hair to dislodge leaves, grass, mud, and whatever creepy crawlies might have come to rest there. Charles went down to one knee and pressed the shirt into the ground…which ate it.

He murmured one more phrase and came back to his feet. He saw her watching him and smiled, his face more open than she’d seen it in a long time. "I wasn’t going to put it back on," he explained. "And leaving something like that lying around when we’re traveling with a witch is just not smart. The apple tree will absorb it eventually and guard it until she does."

"Are you done yet?" called Isaac.

Charles tilted his head and called back, "I suppose that’s why they call you the five-minute wonder."

Anna could feel her eyes round and her mouth drop open. "I can’t believe you just said that." She paused and reconsidered. "I am so telling Samuel you said that."

Charles smiled, kissed her gently, and said, "Samuel won’t believe you." Then he took her by the hand and started off in the others’ wake.

Chapter 9

As they climbed, scrambling over broken cement, rocks, and bits of assorted underbrush, Anna had too much time to think about the show they’d just put on.

It had been her fault.

Charles had been trying to raise her wolf – because apparently the black magic had been affecting her. She cringed away from the self-pitying stupidity she’d allowed herself to wallow in. Talking hadn’t worked to pull her out of it, so he’d kissed her, and her wolf had risen up to shrug off the effects of the magic, just like he’d thought she would. And then her wolf had changed the game.

Anna remembered distinctly that he’d warned her that they had an audience – and she’d totally ignored him. That was bad enough. To do it when there was a distinct chance that they were going to run into the bad guys was the height of stupidity.

"Anna," said Charles. "Stop brooding."

"That was really dumb," she said without looking at him. "My fault. I’m sorry. We could have been attacked by the killers." She threw up her hands. "We might as well have set up cameras and invited everyone to watch. And now we’re going to have to go meet up with our audience and explain ourselves."

He stopped abruptly and jerked her to a halt beside him with a hand on her wrist. It startled her with its hint of violence – Charles was never out of control.

"If you think that it was dumb, unnecessary, and your fault," he said in a husky voice, "then you weren’t paying attention." He kissed her again, his mouth demanding her response, his body hot against hers.

Charles smelled like home, warm and right. She knew she should pull back, knew that this was more distraction they couldn’t afford, but she was so hungry for him – not just for sex, but for the simple touches, the absolute certainty of knowing she was welcome to pet and tease and laugh. Anna sank into him and gave as good as she got.

They were both breathless when he pulled back.

"When we get back tonight, we will talk," he told her. "I just learned something."

"That my wolf is shameless," she muttered, though she couldn’t pull away.

He laughed, damn him. More of a huff than a chuckle, but she knew amusement when she heard it.

She’d thrown him down in the middle of a hunt when there were a herd of people listening in. All the werewolves, he’d reminded her – and Beauclaire, who was here to find his daughter, not to listen to her make out in the woods. And now, to show that she hadn’t learned her lesson, all she wanted to do was take up that last kiss where it had left off.

"No help for it," Anna muttered. "Time to face the music."

"Shame is…not a very productive emotion," Charles told her. There was a funny little pause when he tilted his head to look at her face and then away. "Brother Wolf liked claiming you in front of the others so that there will be no question who you belong to. While I…I regret your embarrassment but otherwise agree with Brother Wolf."