"Brother?" Wide-eyed, I stare at Sean's tense profile as he leads me up the pack house steps without looking back. "But I thought it was only you and Silas."
"So did we. Apparently, our father took comfort for a brief time with another woman after our mother died," Sean says tersely.
Trailing behind Darby and Ian walking in a cluster with the rest of the Desert pack leadership, we round a corner into a long hallway and I have the opportunity to glance behind us. Sean's unnamed half-brother follows, lagging at a respectful distance, his golden eyes locked upon me. A slow smile slightly curls one corner of his mouth when he catches me looking and his chin lifts, decidedly pleased.
I should be upset by his blatant disrespect of my mate and his claim upon me. I should be obviously discouraging Sean's half-brother's attentions. What I feel is none of those things. Instead, a peculiar excitement throbs in my pulse, then settles in a flutter of butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I wonder what kind of trouble my curiosity has instigated.
"You can't actually be angry at him for your father having an affair after your mother was gone, are you?"
"No," he replies softly so the others ahead of us can't hear, but he needn't have bothered. Our conversation is scarcely noticeable over the congenial laughter from the crowd ahead. "In fact, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. It's the way he brought it to Silas' attention. And the nerve of that guy and the car door," Sean mutters as we're shown to our guest room across the hall from Ian and Darby in a private wing with a connected courtyard outside it.
"Why are you so irate over him opening the door?" I slouch onto the bed with an appreciative groan, then lay back, throwing my arms over my head. "We're essentially foreign dignitaries. I'm surprised someone else wasn't there immediately to open our door."
"It's not that he opened the door and you know it," Sean snaps.
I turn my head towards the sound of his voice in time to watch him untuck his button down shirt, then unbutton the sleeves. Without bothering with any other part of it, he yanks it by the collar over his head and I almost groan aloud at how exquisitely made he is. "Are you taking a shower?"
"No," he replies curtly, dropping his shirt to the floor, then kicks off his shoes. Sinuous as a panther, he pads barefoot to the side of the bed where I've taken a seat. Before I can bolt upright into a sit, Sean pins me down. "You're mine, Sandy. Mine. I may not have waited as long for you as Ian waited for Darby or had to hunt for you across the planet, but you are my mate. I'm not giving you up—especially not to some upstart bastard son of my father's— without a fⴎcking war."
"We're mates," I bite back, struggling against his strength. "That doesn't mean that you own me, Sean."
With one hand, he pins both mine at the wrists, then jerks the fastening on my slacks. The button flies off, clacking softly with a plasticky clatter on the floor, and the zipper gives at the stitches.
"Is that so?" The dangerous purr of his voice is all the warning I get before he's yanking the pressed linen down my legs as fast as possible. "I think, little girl, that you might need a reminder."
A wild panic flares to life inside me in reaction to his scorching words. His eyes glitter resolutely, then his mouth descends on mine like an eagle swooping out of the sky to capture a hare. His fine lips are fervent and demanding, and his tongue delving deep into my mouth consumes me until there's nothing left but Sean inside my head, and a coarse need ignited at my very core. I tug ineffectually at my trapped wrists, but he simply tightens his grip another increment.
I gasp when he releases my mouth, then let out a groan as he feathers tender kisses along my jaw, then downward along my throat. "Sean—stop. They'll—expect us—expect us soon."
"You're not getting away from me without one hell of a fight," he murmurs against my flesh, and the sheer determination in his voice sends a shiver racing over me. "You're mine."
He lowers himself until his solid weight rests atop me and the preternatural warmth I love so much about his werewolf metabolism seeps into my body. A coiling tendril of arousal wraps its way through my system, overwhelming my senses with its intense thrill. With a blatant display of dominance, he feeds ravenously at my mouth again, then drags my wrists higher over my head and bends lower to nuzzle my breasts through the gauzy fabric separating them from him.
Sean's golden eyes burn, brimming with voracious promises, and I know without words that he can do whatever he desires to me because I already want it too. No longer are his movements measured—he's clearly demonstrating his ownership, and sweet Goddess, I don't even care.
I want.
I need.
And my desperation for him and everything he'll give me rings in the room as my whimpering moans echoing off the walls do. The sounds set his eyes blazing even brighter and more fiercely. Immediately, his lips at my breasts become more masterly, more dominant. He nips aggressively at the puckered tips standing erect through the fabric, then utters a harsh groan as I shiver and goosebumps erupt all over me.
And they have nothing to do with being chilled.
One warm paw drifts along my side until he's palming my breast, rolling the tip between his thumb and forefinger much too hard to be tender, but the tingling pain-pleasure is unbearably sweet anyway. As if in punishment, his fingers splay the instant that my back bows to him.
"Sean," I object powerlessly, overwhelmed by him already.
Chuckling softly, menacingly, he ignores my plea. He shifts his weight slightly, allowing himself room for his hand to glide over my abdomen. Then his fingers duck beneath the hem of my shirt and flatten over my smooth flesh. He ravages my mouth again, leaving his hand pressed where it is, as if he can't decide what he intends to do with it.
He nudges my head aside, his lips trailing searingly along the length of my neck until he reaches my collarbone. Taking the thick muscle that runs from my neck along my shoulder between his teeth, he bites down until he draws a pained whimper from me, and then his hand on my belly is on the move. In a scant second, his fingers slip beneath the slinky fabric of my underwear.