She peered up, meeting the gaze of the ginormous man in front of her.
Oh no.
She knew who he was. She’d done things to him in her dreams that had caused her to wake up on the brink of orgasm—sweaty, panting and shaken by the experience. She didn’t know his name but she’d be willing to bet she could identify every inch of his body without the clothes. He’d have a tribal tattoo on his biceps that extended to his shoulder, the design intricate and mesmerizing.
It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.
Her fantasy lover was here, standing right in front of her.
And she wasn’t asleep.
“It’s you,” she rasped, her throat suddenly tight, staring into the man’s golden eyes.
It’s her.
Jackson Donovan attempted to shake off his shock. He’d known his mate would find him. Dreamsharing only occurred when a female was ready to mate, and his had come at him like a freight train. She’d been nervous but eager in their encounters, shaking off her inhibitions as though she wasn’t aware the dreams were real. He’d known it was in a female wolf’s nature to play hard to get, so he’d bided his time.
Once a woman got a taste of her male, she’d instinctually track him down. Distance wasn’t a factor. Instinct paved the way. What he hadn’t known was the woman who haunted his nights would show up at his shop for a tattoo, or that she’d be human.
Correction. Half-human.
She was a combination of both—wolf and woman—each scent unique and undeniable. Judging by her response to him, she’d never even seen a werewolf before. That being said, he was certain she didn’t know what she was.
Everything slowly came together, providing him with a clearer understanding of his mate. She hadn’t known the dreams were being shared. She hadn’t had a clue what was taking place between them. If that was the case, what in the hell was she doing here? Where had she come from?
He drew a breath, taking in her scent. Pure feminine heat assailed him, clean and rich, the hot fragrance of her cunt slamming into his lungs. She smelled good enough to eat, as sweet and warm as honey. He’d drown in her, lapping at her slit until she came long and hard. Afterward he’d bury himself inside her, fucking them both to oblivion, claiming her in every way imaginable.
What the fuck?
His muscles tensed, his wolf growling in his head. He fought for control, trying to ice his desire. She was human, not wolf. He could scare her if he didn’t watch himself. If he wasn’t careful he could also hurt her, and a werewolf never harmed his mate. He was shaken by his lack of control, caught off guard by how she affected him. His primal urges rushed to the forefront, his wolf ready to take over.
Realization hit, hard and fast.
Damn. She’s on the brink of her season.
A part of him wanted to rage at the injustice of her predicament. Due to her genetics, she might not able to shift. Most wolves considered the inability to change a weakness. Hell, it was one of the reasons humans weren’t mated with unless the man couldn’t resist the nature of his beast. Being half-and-half wasn’t easy, not if you lived a life among a pack.
Fuck. The pack.
It was very possible they’d shit a brick when he introduced her to them, especially if she wasn’t able to shift. Stability was always an issue when it came to wolves but with the tension between the packs in the area things had become worse. The men and women who looked to him for balance would expect their Alpha to do the right thing—to put their well-being over his—even if it meant turning his back on the one woman meant for him.
He suppressed a snarl, fighting for control.He wasn’t letting his mate walk out of his life. Not after he’d waited so long for her. Somehow he’d make things work. It was his responsibility to protect his female and his people. At his age, he’d seen and survived a lot of shit. He’d be damned if he let his mating come in the way of what he’d worked so hard to accomplish.
“My name’s Jackson.” He studied her closely, resisting the urge to reach out and see if her skin was as soft as it appeared. He didn’t want to frighten her more than she already was. “Do you know why you’re here? Do you understand what’s happening to you?”
“What kind of question is that?” She frowned, her arched brows furrowing. “I’m here to get a tattoo.”
Shit. She had no idea what was going on.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” Frown lines deepened, tugging at the corners of her mouth. “This is so weird. I know you but I don’t. And I feel so strange. It’s like I took a trip down the rabbit hole.”
He forced his hands into fists, trembling with the effort not to pull her into his arms. His fingers itched with the need to touch her, his cock straining against the sharp bite of his zipper. The metal teeth subdued his wolf, the sharp lance of pain into his engorged flesh more than welcome. She needed patient and gentle—two traits he seriously lacked.
“Do you know what’s happening to you?” he repeated. Obviously she didn’t, but he had to know. He had to be certain.
She cocked her head to the side, a puzzled expression on her face. “I don’t think so.” Something seemed to dawn on her. Her brows lifted, her plush lips parting. “Wait. Am I dreaming? Is that why you’re here?”
“No, you’re not dreaming,” he replied, trying not to growl in pleasure as she turned to him for answers. Her insecurity made him want to shroud her in his strength, ensuring she would always be safe from harm. It was his responsibility and privilege to see to her needs, something he responded to on a primal level.
“Are you sure?” She looked around the room and then peered up at him, her grass-green eyes wide, pupils dilated. Her legs shifted as though she was trying to stem her sexual excitement. “Because this doesn’t feel normal.”
Talk about an understatement.
Those green peepers of hers indicated she was from one of the most respected packs in his area—the Worthington pack, to be precise. Only Worthington wolves had eyes the color of sunlit peridot, the shade easy to identify. Unfortunately he was at odds with their Alpha and any inquiries about his mate wouldn’t be welcomed. Territory wasn’t always easily established, especially when wolves started crowding each other. Whoever had impregnated Chloe’s mother would be in deep shit. Leaving behind a half-were infant was just asking for trouble.
Who the fuck would do something so stupid?
His rock-hard dick jerked inside his pants, fueled by his female’s scent. He hadn’t been able to see her face until now. That was the way it worked with dreamsharing. The big reveal didn’t happen until a couple came face-to-face. It was nature’s way of promoting a bond that defied all things superficial, bonding a couple together on a deeper mental level. She was more beautiful than he’d pictured. Even if she was slightly younger than he imagined—in her early twenties—she was more than he’d ever hoped for. Her hair was thick, curly and strawberry blonde, the color striking against her shiny green irises.
He pictured her on his bed, those curls spread out on his pillows, her beautiful eyes glazed over as she watched him go down on her. She’d moan as he feasted on her, taking his time, licking her up like candy. He wanted to feel the sting of her nails in his scalp, hear her pleasure as she came against his tongue, the delectable taste of her cream flooding his senses. Even if she begged, he wouldn’t rush, keeping her right where he wanted her. He’d stay between her legs for hours, lapping at her cunt, taking what was his.