Emins’ Mate(9)

Okay. What was that Americanism? One square? Danil would know. And would scold Emin for forgetting. No. It was ‘square one’. He’d be starting at square one with this one.

Emin rose from the ground and tugged at her hand. He wasn’t gentle. Intentionally. He wasn’t a gentle man in general and if she had a problem with that, well… He had no way of finishing that sentence. Because if she had a problem with that then he had no idea what he’d do. But she didn’t seem to mind getting tugged along behind him.

He took her by the shoulders and sat her down on the bed. His bed. In his pajamas. He chose not to jump off that particular cliff. So he took another step, flexed his hands at his sides in a rare show of nerves. “You lay there. With your head there. Cover with that if you are cold. Sleep now.”

Without another word, he clicked off the lamp next to the bed and strode determinedly back to his little nest on the ground. He jammed his eyes closed and for the first time in his life, cursed how quiet his cabin was at night. Usually he was grateful for the ultimate silence after the hustle and bustle of the city or the volume of his brothers. But tonight, as he listened to her softly wiggling in his bed, her little exhales, Emin wished for a radio.

Finally she stopped moving and Emin prayed for sleep. Every single inch of him was stubbornly awake. One part in particular. This was ridiculous. He hadn’t popped wood over being in the same room as a woman since he was twelve years old. And even then he’d recognized it as juvenile and something to get control over.

Historically, Emin was very willing to buy into the exotic mysticism that every woman seemed to possess. Something inexplicable and powerful about them all. He’d always been happy to be swept along in the magic of a woman’s sway and not question or analyze. It was one of the great joys of his life. But tonight, right now, as his breaths felt like knives in his chest and her sweet, outdoorsy scent started to fill his cabin, Emin needed to solve this mystery so that he could get a little peace. He no longer wanted to be delightfully charmed or swept along. He wanted to solve this mystery, set it aside and get some shut eye.

Sure, she was very pretty. And she was interesting because he’d never met a tiger shifter before. And she was fascinating because she didn’t know anything about living among humans. But that was it. She wasn’t some mystical, unsolvable riddle. No. She was just a sum of desirable components. That was all.

Keeping a tight noose around his thoughts, Emin forced himself into a light sleep where he forced even his dreams to be polite.





CHAPTER FOUR





Emin woke, sweaty as hell, and covered in a river of autumn leaves. Or at least that was his first thought. And then he realized that autumn leaves didn’t usually smell like sweet, sleeping woman and cascade over his chest in a weighted, wild press.

At some point in the night, Glory must have crawled down from the bed to join him on the floor.

Christos. Lord, save him. Think about Mama, he commanded himself. Think about Maxim burping. Think about swallowing bitter medicine, or biting your tongue.

The morning sunlight slanted in through his windows and Emin saw that it was an appropriate hour to bring this woman to his mother’s house. Mama would know what the hell to do with her. Emin, on the other hand, had absolutely no idea.

He wanted to hug her closer. Pull her completely on top of him and fully feel the weight of her. Not just the weight of her head, the one arm she had casually thrown over his middle. And was that…? Yes, one foot was tossed over his ankle as well.

He needed to wake her, slide her off of him and get them moving down the mountain. But he also needed to get his wood under control before he woke her up. The poor girl was obviously a new soul, extremely innocent, and he didn’t want to terrify her with his… full grown desire.

So he counted backwards from 1000 in Belarusian and stared at the ceiling of his cabin as he tried to will his erection out of existence.

And damn it, he was almost there when she yawned and stretched, her body an intriguing mixture of straining softness.

Thwap. Emin winced as his boner sat straight up in the jeans he’d never taken off last night. He sat up too, hoping to hide its prominence from her innocent eyes.

She stretched again, smiling with her eyes closed. She sat up beside him, an arrow of morning light across her eyes.

“Mmmmm,” she said, smiling at him. “Sweaty.” She pulled Emin’s shirt that she wore away from her breasts and let it fall back. Emin watched in lustful horror as the damp cloth clung to the valley between her breasts, shaping to her like a second skin.

“I was so cold last night without my fur,” she admitted. “I had to come to you for warmth. I hope that’s okay?” She looked up at him uncertainly.