I laid my hands flat and leaned over him. His heart beat swiftly under my palm. I hesitated.
“I don’t understand why you want me to bite you.”
“I don’t either. It’s not what you think. Well, it is in a way, but it’s more. I feel like we’ll be closer then.”
I couldn’t see how biting brought us any closer than we were. I was sitting on him for Pete’s sake. Regardless, I leaned down, until my chest touched his. His fingers, still resting lightly on my knees, twitched.
He turned his head, exposing his throat. I wanted to kiss the shadowy column, not bite it.
“I can’t, Thomas. I’m sorry,” I quickly slid from him and stood beside the bed.
He lay there for several moments, breathing deeply and staring up at the ceiling. Then he sat up, ran a hand through his hair, stood, and moved to the door. There, he sat, staring at me, the glow of his eyes interrupted by infrequent blinks.
Without a word, I curled back under the covers. I couldn’t guess how long I lay there, but eventually I drifted off to sleep.
When the same weight woke me again, my temper flared. It was still dark out, and I couldn’t see much.
“Thomas, get off me.” I didn’t bother with whispered subtlety.
He didn’t move.
“Thomas, I’m serious. You’re too heavy.” I shoved at him, but he didn’t respond.
“Fine. Have it your way.” I turned my head and bit his neck hard. The coppery tang of blood tickled my tongue as he exhaled loudly.
Knowing I had his attention, I stopped biting.
“I’m certain, I made myself clear before. Out. Of. My. Bed.”
I moved to wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. He lifted his head before I finished and gently kissed my palm.
My anger didn’t fade exactly, yet another emotion blanketed it. Awe, a complete sense of wonder and elation.
I frowned. I wasn’t elated. I was still mad. And he was still on top of me.
“Move, Thomas. Now, or so help me, you won’t like what happens next.”
He chuckled, kissed my forehead, and rolled off me. He didn’t get out of bed but pulled me to his chest, cuddling against me. He kissed my temple.
“Whether you like it or not,” he said, “you’re my world now. Sleep. I promise I won’t wake you again.”
He sighed and relaxed behind me. I lay there stunned. What had just happened? Was his head damaged? I still hadn’t given him permission to sleep in my bed. Despite my angry thoughts, I couldn’t seem to hold onto my agitation. Contentment and something softer continued to defuse my hostile emotions, which just made me angrier.
I drew back and elbowed him. He grunted and quickly caught my arm.
“Sweetheart, why are you so angry?”
Sitting up, I glared down at him.
“Sweetheart? Since when am I your sweetheart? And I’m angry because you’re ignoring me.”
“I am most definitely not ignoring you.”
“Then why are you still in my bed?”
“Because I’m not ignoring you.”
“You are making absolutely no sense.”
“Charlene, what do you feel?”
“Annoyed.”
His eyes glowed brighter for a moment and a tendril of desire washed over me. I was thankful the dark hid my blush.
“What now?”
I stared down at him.
“How did you know...?”
“Because what you felt wasn’t your emotion; it was mine.” He lifted a hand and gently tugged the end of a section of my hair. “Did you know the moonlight is highlighting your already beautifully pale hair? It almost glows to me. It’s softly curling around your face. You’ve never looked prettier. And when you’re angry, your lips and cheeks take on a darker shade of pink. I can’t see anything else but your lips when you’re upset. It’s as if nature’s daring me to kiss you just then. ‘See if you can make her happy again.’ And I want to try now more than ever before. But I won’t.” He wrapped his hands around my face. “Because you were right. You are different. I won’t forget again.”
He was talking circles, and I had no idea what to make of it.
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“I couldn’t Claim you because you had to Claim me.”
My annoyance disappeared in a poof.
“Past tense? ‘You had to Claim me.’ Why are you talking like I’ve already—” Panic set in. “No.” I pulled away from his touch. He remained on his back, watching me.
“Winifred extends her congratulations.”
“I don’t want her congratulations or her cookies.” There wasn’t any anger behind the words, just panic. I’d just attached myself to these people. Part of me was happy. Though it wasn’t my plan, and I truly wasn’t ready for the relationship these werewolves had described, Claiming Thomas did secure my place here. Plus, Thomas was amazing. I scowled, realizing his contentment and happiness was influencing my thoughts.
What if Winifred found out about what I could do? She wouldn’t if I stopped using my ability. Claimed, I should have a certain level of protection—I hoped.
I recalled Mary’s words about Claiming and what usually comes next. I swallowed hard.
“Will you still keep your promise?” I asked.
“Which promise is that?”
“You won’t take more than I’m ready to give?”
“I swear.”
Unless I knew how to undo a Claim—information I doubted Thomas would share—I was stuck here. I considered him for a moment. Was this such a bad place to be? I sighed heavily then curled against his side and laid my head on his shoulder.
“What will your pack say?” I asked as he wrapped an arm around me.
“Should I tell them now and see?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I think we can still use the reprieve of their absence.”
He kissed my temple again.
“No more talking. You need sleep.”
I kept quiet and listened to his breathing slow. He seemed to need the sleep more than I did. As I lay there in the dark, my thoughts circled several facts. Thomas had taken my request to learn about me, about being human, seriously. He’d never wavered from his conviction that I was the right one for him. And he freely admitted just how much he cared about me. If I were honest with myself, I cared about him, too.
I’d initially decided to stay here because I felt they could keep a secret about what I could do. Though I’d continued to believe they could keep secrets, I hadn’t been willing to part with mine. Claiming Thomas changed things. I didn’t want to build a relationship with him on misconceptions or lies. Yet, I wasn’t sure if I could trust Thomas with the truth.
* * * *
There was a woven basket on the table when we entered the main room the next morning. The room was otherwise empty. Curious, I stepped up to the table, peered into the basket, and saw Ann’s sleeping daughter.
“Where are Ann and Leif?” I asked, turning to look at Thomas.
The washroom door opened and Leif stepped out. His hair was damp, and he held a towel.
“We are here,” he said, moving close to check his daughter.
“The basket is wonderful. Who made it?”
“I did.” He gently touched the babe’s cheek.
“Leif, that’s totally amazing. Could you show me how to make one?”
He glanced up from the baby and nodded.
“I would be happy to. I’m not sure what you’d use it for, but you should know the cattail leaves will shrink as they dry, and the basket will grow holes. Typically the leaves should be dried before they are used.”
A slow grin spread as I stared at Leif. We’d just found our winter occupation.
“I’ve never felt that much excitement before. What are you thinking?” Thomas asked.
Leif tilted his head at me and sniffed.
“Claimed?”