Walking out of her door is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The look of want in her eyes. Desire radiating from her skin. If it weren’t for her parent’s portrait crashing to the ground, I have no doubt the honeymoon would have preceded our nuptials.
I love her.
With the exception of those two sacred words, “I do,” and our long-awaited consummation, I think of her as my wife in every way. In fact, I can say with all assurance that I have loved her since the very first day we met.
She had a look of helplessness without surrender. The two contending bidders were doing everything they could to best one another in obtaining the Charloque de Posse oil painting all while causing quite a stir in the auditorium. While she was noticeably frustrated with both gentlemen, she held her own. I liked that. Immediately, I knew she wasn’t a pushover, but I also knew she needed my help.
Raising my paddle, her eyes met mine with the sincerest look of gratitude. Followed by a small smile in the corners of her perfect peach-colored lips, she bowed her head slightly and whispered the sweetest “thank you” my ears ever heard. I knew nothing about her. Not even her name. She was the subbing auctioneer and somehow, I guessed she wasn’t the Martin Trask listed in the program. But I knew one thing. I loved this woman with no name.
I was only at the auction to reclaim two relic effigy bowls that were once my great-grandfather’s. My plans were to gift them to my aunt as an offering to her for caring for me after my father’s death. Sophie always said my grandmother, or as I called her Pokni Natika, sold many of our family’s belongings to traders to ensure the status of our pack.
I got the bowls. Only five hundred a piece. Seems like a steal compared to the insane twenty-eight thousand dollars I belted out to end the bidding war. The last bid was only ten thousand, so I am not sure what possessed me to offer such an amount. Well, actually I do. I simply wanted those idiots to shut their pie holes. Mostly, because I could tell they both were only trying to flaunt their wealth and impress her. Not that I blame them. Damina is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Ever.
I’d gladly do it again. There’s no amount of money in any currency that would be sufficient to spend even a moment in her presence.
I knew that then and I know it now.
But it was the moment she agreed to go with me to dinner after the auction that I knew I’d never let her out of my sight. Even though I’ve often teased she was the most expensive first date ever, I’d gladly do it all over again.
I’ve gotten no farther than just outside her door and everything inside me is screaming for me to return to her. Leaning against the cool marble tile walls adjacent to her entrance, I try to allow its coolness to relieve the sweltering sweat masking my skin. My heart is racing and I’m working hard to catch my breath. I haven’t felt like this since I ran the 10K.
My, what that woman does to me.
I know one thing. If I don’t leave now, I have no doubt I will claim her as my wife. In every way. And by the way, her gaze deepened into mine, I’ll be equally claimed. Right now, I am all too eager to comply. But our promises of chastity rein in my inhibitions. At least a little.
Leave now, idiot.
Or we could just call Pastor Holmes to pronounce us man and wife right now. He owes me a few favors. I had to utilize a lot of my contacts to get the Ward to agree to the expansion of his church parking lot. Besides, after running into him at the Indian bistro in Chantilly with a woman who looked nothing like his wife Patricia, I doubt he’s in a position to chide my reasons for wanting to speed up the nuptials.
Everything about the moment was so right. The way she smelled. Like vanilla and Eucalyptus. Calming and sweet. I recount the way she kissed me, locking her tongue with mine. The way her fingers grazed my chest as her luscious mouth gaped open full of wanting made my heart throb straight to the seat of my pants. Her peasant top did little to hide the glistening sheen along her breastbone and the rise and fall of her breathing as her body folded into mine was almost my undoing.
Sure, I could blame it on the nearing of the full moon. I’ve spent five years planning business trips and other excursions around the lunar cycle just to douse my desire for her. While we wolves are never shy a mating season, the full moon makes our desires almost too hard to resist. One summer’s eve in the pool with Damina was enough to know not to tempt fate. Especially since I’m not sure I can guise my wolf when I’m in full bloom.
I’ve yet to tell her who I am.
The wolf is everything. All rage. All desire. Ferocious and fearless.
Yet, the moment we share our vows we invoke the copula ritual. She will finally be able to see me. All of me. I hate holding this part of myself back from her. But I will do what I promised to keep her safe, even if that means keeping my true self hidden from her until that time.
It’s been five years. Five years of want, desire, and ice-cold showers.
None of it has been easy but I know making love to Mrs. Damina Nash will be well worth the wait. Besides, I want to do it right. I have every intention of doing so. She deserves the best I can give her. Not a romp on the couch for her first time. Our first time.
I’ve planned everything for our honeymoon. A rose petal covered honey-milk bath by candlelight is how I plan to start. I want to wash away all her cares as I caress every perfected inch of her. Though she exudes strength all her own, I need her to know that she can depend on me to wipe away every stain or vexing of her heart. After, I’ll carry her to our bed and make love to her over and over again under a moonlit sky.
With moonlight our only light, I’ll share my wolf with her, marking my scent over her body. Imprinting myself over her completely. As I drape her with my essence, I’ll bind her Altrinion nature with mine, keeping her safe from all who would seek to hurt her kind.
All I have to do is wait the night out.
“Tomorrow,” I whisper to her door with my hand pressed against its seam. I inwardly chuckle at the light imprint my sweaty palm leaves behind. The next imprint I make will be on her body and I look forward to that moment with the grandest delight.