"Fruit bowl will tide you over till dinner."
Not the least abashed, Marlee grabbed an apple on her way to hug Lucy. "Hi, Lucy! Are you staying for dinner? Want to see my art project?"
"Yes, stay, Lucy," Lara said. "I'm in the mood to cook - you can be my sous-chef."
It ended up being a dinner party of seven. One of Toby's friends had permission to eat with them, and Walker brought home a twelve-year-old female pup whose parents were running late getting back from their work outside den territory.
As they sat down to eat, her mate reached over and ran his knuckles down her cheek, the affectionate gesture making her wolf rub against her skin.
"Hey, you," she whispered.
He tipped up her chin, kissed her to the delight of the children and Lucy, before turning back to the table. It wasn't until after everyone had filled their plates that she saw him watching Toby and Marlee. Marlee was currently giggling with the pup who'd come home with Walker, while the boys chatted to Lucy about the effectiveness of a twist in a recent movie. All the children were clearly in good spirits, but there was something in Walker's eyes, the same shadow of pain she'd seen the day of their mating, as Toby spun Marlee. She knew in that moment that there were gaps in her knowledge of what had taken place in his life immediately before his defection.
"Walker?" She touched her fingers to his thigh. "Sweetheart, what is it?" He closed his hand over hers.
"Sometimes, I see Marlee laugh," he said in a rough tone so low, it reached her ears alone, "and I remember a time when my daughter didn't understand what it was to be happy. Only what it was to be hurt." His gaze shifted to a grinning Toby, the memories a quiet ache in his voice as he spoke. "And Toby, he was in so much pain after Kristine's suicide, I was terrified we'd lose him, too, my sister's cherished baby boy."
The poignant sadness of his words wrenched at her. Tangling their fingers together, she "spoke" to him through the visceral connection of the mating bond, showering him in her love, in the joy she felt at being his mate, in the cheerful contentment her wolf sensed in the children. His gaze sharpened, the shadows fading to be replaced by a deep happiness that made her entire body sing.
And she knew she wouldn't ask him about the shadows, not tonight. No, she would love him, counteract any lingering whispers of sadness with affection, pleasure, and touch. He would tell her when he was ready - she had faith in the trust that linked them to one another, was no longer afraid she'd never know the heart of this incredible man who was her own.
Perhaps it would take a little more time, a little more patience...but they had a lifetime.
WALKER woke around midnight, Lara curled up against him, and he realized he couldn't imagine ever again spending the night without her at his side. Even the idea of it caused an agony of pain inside his chest. It was a startling sensation for a man who had always come to a cold bed, believed himself wholly self-sufficient, but one he had no will to fight.
He wanted a forever tinged with the warmth of her against his skin, her hand on his heart, her curls tickling the bottom of his jaw.
Shifting with care so he could look down at her sleeping face, he ran his finger along the delicate shell of her ear.
His mate was so lovely, and so gentle.
So very good. That was what made her a healer. She might be a SnowDancer, but should he bring her the broken body of a Psy Councilor, she'd do her best to heal the enemy, regardless of the fact that enemy might one day strike her dead.
That was who she was.
It was also why she needed him.
Because Walker wasn't that good. He'd do whatever it took to protect her from harm, spill blood without blinking. He knew Lara saw that ability to kill in him, understood his moral compass wasn't like her own, but she loved him just the same.
He didn't know what he'd done to deserve her, deserve this life where he was so passionately loved that it was an incandescent glow against his heart, but he knew he'd fight to the death to hold on to her. Lara was his.
Texture of Intimacy Chapter 8
QUIETLY MOVING ASIDE a curl that was tickling her in her sleep, he felt his lips curve when she wrinkled up her nose before falling asleep again. It was something she did every time he cleared away a curl - and he loved that he knew that. As he knew that if he ran a finger down her throat, she'd sigh and turn into the touch, her hand flexing on his skin. It made his entire body tighten, his flesh hungry for her though he'd shared skin privileges passionate and exquisite with her a mere two hours ago.
Shifting his focus, he played with the thin strap on her left shoulder, his callused fingertip scraping against her skin. He didn't pull back - Lara had made it clear she loved his hands.
Instead, he smoothed the strap down her arm and leaned over to press his lips to the silky hot skin he'd bared, the taste of her an addiction he intended to indulge in for the rest of his life.
Making a sleepy sound, she tunneled one hand into his hair, holding him to her as he slid his own hand up over her thigh and to her hip, pushing up the satiny fabric of her short nightgown at the same time. He'd experienced sensation, so many layers of it since leaving the Net, but each time he touched Lara, he found there was more to feel, to explore.
Kisses along her throat, her pulse thudding against his tongue, her breast taut and perfect in his palm.
"Oh." A hitch in her breath, followed by a husky, "Don't stop." He ran his thumb over her nipple.
"Before," he murmured against her mouth, "I comprehended the mechanics of this act, but I never understood." That it could be lighthearted or intense, smoldering or wild...any of a thousand different moods, playing off his own and hers to create a new alchemy of pleasure every single time.
Today, it was slow, lazy, a touch playful.
Fisting her hand in his hair, she brushed her lips, soft and lush, across his cheekbone. "You know what I find sexy? These pajama bottoms you wear to bed." She ran her foot over the fine blue cotton striped with black.
He knew when he was being teased, nipped at her lower lip in sensual punishment. "Those," he said, her unrepentant laugh tangling him up, "are so as not to shock our youngest child if she walks in after a bad dream." Unlike after they first defected, Marlee rarely had nightmares these days, but she wasn't totally free of the scars the PsyNet had left on her psyche. When the dreams did hit, she still ran immediately for Walker. Which was why their bedroom door stayed unlocked at night - except if he flipped the remote switch as he'd done a few minutes ago.
Lara suckled kisses along his neck, spreading her thighs to better cradle his body. "She's growing up in a changeling pack." A graze of teeth. "I bet you it wouldn't faze her."
He had the feeling she was right.
Changelings were very respectful of one another's personal space, never assuming even casual skin privileges with people they didn't know, but nakedness was accepted as a natural state of being, a logical outcome of the fact that every changeling young and old, came out of the shift naked.
"Well," he muttered, "it'd faze me."
Lara laughed, breath hot against his skin. "So shy, my poor darling." Tugging her up from his throat to claim her mouth, drink of her laughter, he moved his hand down past her navel to cup her over the lace of her panties, kissing her slow and deep until she grew damp against his palm, the scent of her an invitation. In no hurry, he continued the lazy seduction until she began to move restlessly against him, her delicate flesh plump against the lace.
His mate was more than happy to cooperate when he tugged off the silky shred of cloth, sighed as she realized he'd stripped off his pajama bottoms before returning to her. Rubbing her partially bared breasts against his chest when he bent to her mouth once again, kissing her one of his favorite pleasures, she wrapped her legs around his hips, her nightgown bunched up at her waist.
Silky and feminine and soft, she surrounded him, claimed him.
Moving one hand between their bodies to grip his erection, position himself at the tight heat of her entrance, he said, "Yes?"
"Please." A sultry invitation, her body rising to welcome his.
He shuddered as he pushed home.
Bracing himself on one arm and controlling the urge to thrust, he used the fingers of his free hand to tug the straps of her nightgown all the way off and brush his fingertips over the bare mounds of her breasts. She moaned, drawing her nails up along his back in a light caress as her internal muscles fluttered around him, her flesh molten honey with welcome. "You feel so good inside me."
Her words were a caress as intoxicating as the possessive clasp of her body.
Lowering his mouth to her throat, he kissed his way down to her breasts, teased her with his teeth, his lips...while rocking into her, slow and easy. They had only been mated a short period, but he knew how to listen to his mate's body, never forgot a single detail of what pleasured her.
"You're thinking," she accused.
He tugged a sensitive nipple between his teeth, released it to her gasp. "For the moment." He knew from experience he'd soon succumb to an overload of pure sensation.
"You know this" - a soft moan as he drew back at leisure, pushed in as deliberately - "drives me crazy."
"Hmm."
Reaching down, he insinuated his hand between their bodies once more to touch her exactly where and how she loved it the most; knowledge he possessed because she'd whispered it to him when he'd asked her to teach him her pleasure points, his wild sensual mate who denied him nothing. "Is this better?"
Her body tightened then broke in a shocked ripple of ecstasy, her muscles clamping down on him. He gritted his teeth to hold back the urge to rush - he wasn't in a rushing kind of a mood tonight - and then, when she softened beneath him, he kissed her with languorous sensuality, petting her down from the peak.
Heavy lids lifted to reveal eyes gone nightglow.
"I guess," she murmured, kissing his throat, "this patience is a side effect of the control you had to maintain in the PsyNet." He held her to his throat, sucking in a breath as she licked out at a particularly sensitive spot. "Possibly." A smile against his skin. "Lucky me."
