N. Walters - Alexandra's Legacy

“Yes.”

“That’s old. I still can’t wrap my head around that one.” Alex rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

“You will in time. I would imagine that you’ll live almost as long as the rest of us as the wolf is dominant in your genetic makeup.”

Alex slumped back against the seat, shaking her head. “Amazing.” She swiveled her head around. “I’ve got to go to the ladies’ room. We should probably get going.”

The change in subject was abrupt. Joshua sensed her reluctance to dwell too long on her altered circumstances. He couldn’t blame her, especially when they weren’t safe here.

Joshua rose from the table, fished into his pocket and left more than enough on the table to pay for their meal and cover a generous tip. The delay was worth it, if only because the coffee and food made Alex happy.

Keeping his hand on the small of her back, he led her down the short hallway to the restrooms. “I’ll meet you right here. Don’t go anywhere without me.”

She saluted smartly. “Yes, sir.”

He gave her a playful swat on the behind as she pushed open the door to the ladies’ room. She jumped and shot him a glare over her shoulder as she rubbed her bottom.

He smiled even as he shook his head. No one outside his immediate family treated him the way she did. Most others gave him a wide berth, fearful of drawing his attention, but Alex teased and questioned and glared at him at every turn. Pushing his way into the men’s room, he decided to hurry. Who knew what kind of mischief she would get up to if he left her on her own.

Alex flushed the toilet and exited the stall, heading straight to one of the two tiny, cracked sinks. In the privacy of the stall, she’d checked on the knives, which were tucked safely in her boots, and had stashed the gun in the deep pocket of the leather jacket for now. It was late September, but it was warming up outside. It was too hot to keep wearing that coat.

Tossing it over the other sink, she stared at the image in the mirror as she soaped and washed her hands. There were no paper towels left in the dispenser, so she dried her hands on the legs of her jeans. For someone whose life had changed so drastically and who had been through so much, she looked surprisingly normal.

Her hair was disheveled, her skin pale, but the face was the same. Not even her eyes looked different, the familiar silvery gray staring steadily back at her. For some reason, she’d thought she’d look different somehow.

Her hands began to tremble. The quivering went up her arms and down through her body. She’d killed a man this morning. Rather, a wolf. But he was still a man, wasn’t he? The fact that he’d meant to kill her father and kidnap her didn’t make that any easier.

The first sob came from deep within her, taking her off-guard. She’d buried all her emotions up until now, needing just to function, to keep moving forward. But now that she was well fed and relatively safe, those emotions bubbled to the surface, demanding release.

Gripping the edge of the sink, she concentrated on taking one breath at a time. It was no use. She gave into the inevitable and allowed the tears to flow.

A sharp knock came on the door, but she ignored it.

The door pushed open. “Hurry up, Alex. We don’t have all day.”

His voice made her sob even harder. How dare he tell her to hurry? It had been her suggestion to leave. He’d been sitting there like they had all day. She’d tell him off just as soon as she got a grip on herself.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he shoved the door open. She raised her head long enough to glare at him and then buried her face back in her hands. She wasn’t normally a crier, but right now she couldn’t make herself stop. The snick of a lock being set was loud in the otherwise quiet room and then two strong arms wrapped around her.

“Everything will be all right,” he crooned in her ear as he rocked her lightly in his embrace. She felt surrounded by his heat, comforted by his unique scent. It was a fresh outdoorsy smell of pine trees and rich earth, and she pushed her nose closer to his chest, wanting to absorb it into her skin.

“I killed a man. A wolf. A man,” she wailed. “Whatever he was, I killed him.” She’d done it without thought, without a moment’s hesitation when she’d seen him going for her father’s throat. It was strange and disconcerting to realize she had a killer instinct inside her.

“You protected yourself and your father. I would expect nothing less from James LeVeau’s daughter. It was self-defense, pure and simple.”

“It all happened so quickly.” She sniffed, surreptitiously wiping her eyes on his black T-shirt.

“I know it did, honey.”

No man had called her by an endearment before, besides her father, and that didn’t count. They’d called her plenty of unflattering names when she shot down their clumsy sexual advances, but this was something new and unexpected.

She tried not to read too much into it. He needed her to cooperate with him so maybe he was just humoring her. She didn’t think so though. It had been more of an automatic thing. Who knows, maybe he called every woman he met “honey”. All she knew was it made her feel warm inside.

They stood there for a long time. Alex was content to just be in his arms, but she knew they had to leave. Reluctantly, she pushed away. The movement brushed her nipples over his chest. She bit her lip to keep from moaning aloud. What she wanted to do was strip off her sweatshirt and bra and rub her breasts over the hard planes of his chest.

“You okay now?” He pushed a lock of her bangs back out of her face. She’d been due to get a trim and her hair was a little unruly.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” He barely had the word out when he lowered his head toward her. Her lips parted automatically and she went up on her toes to meet him. His mouth was warm as it pressed against hers. It was the lightest of touches, but it ricocheted throughout her entire body, bringing it to life.

Alex trembled, but this time it felt different. Her skin was alive with sensation. She craved more of his touch. Her body needed it. Demanded it.

Joshua, however, seemed to be in no particular hurry. He nibbled at her bottom lip, tugging at it with his teeth and then stroking it with his tongue.

Her breathing was getting quicker, shallower. Her sweatshirt and jeans were confining, uncomfortably rough against her sensitive skin. The throbbing ache began low in her belly again. She felt empty, needy. For the first time in her life, she truly wanted a man.

Not just any man, but Joshua Striker. Werewolf.

The thought frightened her even as it turned her on. She didn’t know herself anymore. She was drawn to his strength, his scent, the tender way he was kissing her.

“Stop thinking,” he demanded as he dropped soft butterfly kisses on her cheeks, forehead and nose. “Just feel.” His tongue slipped past her lips and into her mouth, tasting it, exploring it, mapping it. There wasn’t a single spot that he didn’t touch. When he stroked her tongue with his, she swayed. Gripping his shoulders for support, she shook off the sensual stupor swamping her and returned his kiss.

Their tongues tangled and entwined. Alex couldn’t get enough of him. He tasted like forbidden fruit, hot and male and dangerous. Like thick, dark coffee, strong and potent. It was addictive. She stroked her hands up his thick neck, threading her fingers through his shaggy black hair. The strands flowed over her hands like dark silk. She wanted to feel it brushing over her breasts.

The ache building between her thighs was too great to ignore. Hooking one leg over his thigh, she tilted her pelvis forward, not surprised when she felt a substantial bulge in the front of his jeans. Moaning, she rubbed her mound over the hard ridge, searching for relief. Cream flowed from her core, soaking her panties. The seam of her jeans pressed against her clitoris, giving her some relief. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Alex wanted his hands on her, touching her.