She turned on his thighs, and looked up into his face. His eyes were closed, but reopened on a scorching, yearning look which made her heart burn with aching fire, melting into feeling that had her leaning forwards to brush his lips with hers, over and over again.
His voice was a whisper when she retreated. "You have never, ever mentioned, "when I'm better" before, picchu."
Holding his eyes, the tremble became contagious, and Gemma sank against him, wrapping her arms around his wide shoulders and holding on fiercely.
Just - Mac.
"So?" she whispered eventually, and felt his chuckle shake his frame.
"Yes, I promise. When you're better I'll tie you up and indulge myself," he replied softly, voice rich layers of meaning.
"Yippee!" Gemma rejoiced quietly, the sound muffled against his skin, enjoying his laughter in response.
When she eventually turned her head back to see where they were, her eyes meandered over the mishmash of criss-crossing streets rising up over the low hills on either side of the inlet, roads disappearing behind the hilltops, and appearing again further away. Spires dotted the horizon, and a castle was perched on a low, solitary hill to their left. Beautiful. Crowded.
Human
.
She sighed.
This was the end of their little honeymoon. But even returning to reality couldn't quell the deep, satisfying melt of happiness which seemed to have grown inside her over the four days spent indulging her wolf and herself. She felt as though she was floating through life in a warm, steady glow.
Another flicker of memory of the hours lost to blank insanity flashed in the corner of her contentment, but Gemma pushed it away before it really registered. They had begun to treat her "lapses" as a slightly unfortunate commonplace, a tiresome inevitability which came and went a bit like a rainstorm. She might regret the lost time, and be secretly irritated at her own lack of control, but it made it easier on both of them, treating the rage irreverently, as an inconvenient misfortune.
She knew it was much easier on Mac, that when she
was
with him, sane, she wasn't despairing, angry, or sad. And it wasn't even an act. She defied anyone to remain sad with such a gorgeous mate. She hugged his warm, muscular arm to herself, feeling the reluctant revving up of Mac's own internal network, his skin beginning to exude the tingle of controlled power and enhanced alertness of the Alpha returning to full throttle as they skimmed under the light breeze toward the multitude of tall masts marking the marina.
Besides, she felt it was only fair that she do her best to make it easier for him - her mate made accepting the rage so much easier for her. Because she
did
trust him to control her, keep her from becoming a danger to others. She lifted his hand to kiss the palm, holding it open to admire the strong fingers and work-roughened palm. Kissed it again. So she would look after him in return, by being as normal, loving and cheeky as possible, while she was sane.
Suddenly her nose wrinkled as a waft of the smell of the streets they were approaching hit her nose.
"Why in a city?" she asked.
"More minds muffle conveyance, Gem, even humans' thoughts. The brat would have to be well within the metropolis, and in the right suburb, for you to come within his range," Mac replied.
Her petty little malevolent mordeur. Gemma shivered lightly.
"Besides, it's highly doubtful that they would even try to look here, as this is the last type of place any wolf with any sense would take an insane werewolf," he added.
Gemma smiled, and turned on his lap to nibble kisses on the lips of the senseless wolf she was perching on.
That evening, Gemma was nervous. It was a silly reaction: half of Mac's pack, well, more like the vast majority of all wolves she had met, blatantly distrusted werewolves and were deeply suspicious of her, yet here she was worrying that his human friends wouldn't
like
her. They were walking into the old town from the old wooden house close to the centre which Mac had arranged for them, to share a meal with Jonathan and Lianna. Mac's old friends had come out on the train to retrieve their yacht, and were going to take a long weekend holiday sailing it back. Mac had offered them dinner in thanks for the loan.
Gemma fiddled slightly nervously with her necklace as she walked down the road toward the harbour hand in hand with her wolf, glancing down at the flare of her new rose-patterned sundress, the soft fabric clinging to her possibly a bit too closely, frowning as she worried about it, biting her lip.
Then she smiled at the pattern of the artwork on her toes, peeping out of the end of her delicate sandals. Mac had hated her painting her toenails, choking hoarse breaths, pretending to retch, then disappearing in a huff around the corner of the old white-painted wooden house when she had continued to ignore him, leaving her sitting on the back porch in the dappled shade of the apple tree, indulging herself. Yes, she'd had to turn her head away to take a breath too, but they had come out very prettily, and the smell didn't bother her now that they were dry.
Mac half-growled. "I still prefer them natural," he grumped.
"You have no taste," she returned, "They are much prettier like this." Gemma stood on one leg and held out her left foot, wiggling the toes in the warm evening light, balancing with a hand on Mac's arm to demonstrate. "See?"
"Very pretty," agreed a man who was emerging from the side street to their left, and he grinned down at Gemma as he halted beside them, ready to cross the busy road too.
"Thanks," she replied, smiling back happily. The human was much taller than her own height, although possibly not much older than her own age, despite the creased, weather-beaten, slightly peaked-looking face under his mop of dark hair and the tanned lines which made him seem older. Worldly. His scent had a peculiar, fresh-yet-musty edge to it - something that set him apart as different to the detergent-and-cosmetic steeped humans back at the hotel. He was smiling at her gently, and the smile deepened as he looked into the soft brown, bright smiling eyes turned up to his.
"Hi, I'm Gemma, this is Mac," she introduced herself sunnily, putting out a hand, "We've just moved here."
There was an infinitesimal pause before the man reached out his own tanned, cracked hand, and gently shook hers, a strange light at the back of his eyes, smile twisting slightly. He shot a look at Mac.
"Her fiancé," her wolf augmented her introduction succinctly, his left hand closing lightly yet firmly around the bare skin of Gemma's upper arm, the arm closest to her new acquaintance, steadying and also enclosing her, while he held out his own right palm to shake.
"Samuel," replied the man, releasing Gemma's hand, his eyes lifting to the hand encircling her arm, then passing on to stare expressionlessly into Mac's face. He made no move to shake the Alpha's hand.
Gemma felt a light tingle up her spine, a warning at the slight edge of insolence staining the air, but she ignored the undertones and shot a teasing glance up at her mate, "See? My toes are pretty." She turned her gaze back to the human and added, "You have good taste."
"I'm not the only one," he agreed pointedly, and shot a second slightly envious, slightly challenging glance as her mate, the double meaning obvious.
Gemma felt the ever-present tingle of power shimmering off Mac's skin increase almost imperceptibly, while he courteously, non-confrontationally nodded to the human, dropping his hand. Her mate commented dryly, "I don't think he was complimenting you on your toes, picchu."
Samuel's lips twisted slightly in acknowledgement, his eyes drooping cynically, and both males eyed each other for further silent seconds, the lips of the human straightening into a hard line. There was a feeling of measuring in the air before abruptly Samuel breathed out harshly and twitched his eyes back to Gemma. Then he smiled again, sparkling, his eyes crinkling at the edges in accustomed creases. His gaze lingered a little too long looking into her face, softly lit with her joy in life, then he took in a long breath and muttered, "Enjoy your evening," and brushed past them.
Gemma's mouth opened to call after Samuel, draw him to relax into a little more chat, but Mac's hand closed around her elbow and he began to tug her across the road while he replied shortly, "Thanks. You too." Then he sighed quietly and added under his breath, "What is it with you and strays, Gem?" slightly exasperated.
"Stray? How do you call a human a stray?" Gemma objected in a low tone, glancing back over her shoulder again after the tall, retreating figure as she was towed away. Although her mate was right, she did think the guy needed - cheering up. Friendship. Companionship. Whatever you wanted to call it. He needed reasons to smile. Like Mac had once.
"He was homeless, Gem. Couldn't you scent it?" Mac replied. "And he's been in a fight very recently, and is on something. He was only noticing a beautiful girl, meant no harm initially, but he's naturally aggressive and started burning for a reason to pick a fight with me and prove how strong he is to you, prove himself."
Gemma watched Samuel's erect back disappearing around the corner. Her stomach quivered doubtfully, but she wanted to chase after him even more now, look after him. Somehow. Without offending him. Or Mac. Why were males so proud?
"Maybe I could offer him a snack in return for the compliment?"
"Maybe you could
not
insult him with handouts, and treat him as you would anyone else."
