Chapter 93

Ollie’s POV

Conrad sets me down on my feet, and I immediately back up a step, my hands going up to protectively touch my mask.

He watches me curiously. Though heat burns in his eyes, he makes no motion to try to come closer. At least, not yet. The promise of his closeness is certainly there, in his tall, proud stature, in the way his entire focus is fixated on me.

His hands hang loosely at his sides now as he considers me, a wolf eyeing a rabbit. Inside of me, my wolf rumbles happily. She is fully ready to submit.

Maybe I am too. At least, I’m leaning that way. But I need a few promises first.

“My mask,” I say. “It has to stay on, no matter what.”

“I know the conditions,” he says flatly.

“And you agree to them?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? And so are you.”

“That’s not an answer.” I need to hear him say the words. If he promises me that he will not touch my mask, then maybe I can trust him enough to let go.

Otherwise, I would be so uptight, I’m not sure I’d be able to enjoy myself.

Holding my gaze, he seems to be able to read me through and through, even without being able to fully see my face.

“What would put you at ease?” he asks.

“Promise me you will not touch my mask,” I reply.

He frowns a little, but I can’t tell if it’s the idea that bothers him, or if it’s more about the implications of me not trusting him.

“I promise,” he says then. “I won’t touch your mask. Happy?”

“Yes,” I say simply, as relief fills me.

“Good,” he says and closes the distance.

I fully expect to be swept off my feet again, so I’m somewhat surprised when instead, approaches me slowly. Gently, he places his hands on my upper back, and coaxes me to step forward, further into his space. When I do, he drags his hands down my back, letting them rest on my hips.

I bring my own hands up, clutching at his upper arms as he holds me closely to him.

His face drops to where my neck meets my shoulder. There, he turns so that he is directly scenting my neck.

I shiver, his mouth so close to my skin, his teeth so near the place where he could mark and claim me as his forever.

He groans a little, pleased. “You smell like Heaven,” he says. “Angel is the perfect name for you…”

Briefly, a flash of doubt fills my mind. I wonder what he would do if he knew this was Ollie he was holding so tenderly. Would he toss me aside in disgust?

He can never know. Especially not on this trip.

For now, I will take whatever affections he will give me, filling my touch and love starved soul all the way to the brim. Then, someday soon, I will have the courage to leave them and the pack behind and start a new life.

Not yet, though. Not now.

Now is for this. For us.

I tilt my head to the side a little, allowing him more access. With the new space, he nuzzles the underside of my jaw, humming as he goes.

“No one has ever smelled as good as you,” Conrad says. “That must be because you were made for me.”

Conrad was made for me too. All of the brothers were.

By the nature of fated mates, the Moon Goddess fashioned us so that we would perfectly complement each other.

Sometimes I thought she must be playing a trick on me, pairing me with the quadruplets. But there is no denying the effect they have on my body and my soul.

For them, I feel a longing I never thought possible before.

Even now, my body buzzes with anticipation, my skin tingling at the certainty of being touched.

Conrad’s hands clutch me tighter, his fingers digging in.

“I’ve waited for you for so long…” he says. “To think my brothers had you and did not tell me…”

I squeeze his arms where I’m holding him, hoping to offer some comfort. I don’t mind the tightness of his grip. The dig of his fingers is setting alight something unexpected inside of me. But I don’t want to be touched like this out of anger.

Desperation? Certainly.

But anger? No.

“I’m here now,” I say, as soft as a whisper.

He lifts his head to look at me in my eyes. Most of my face is hidden, yet he still searches it like he is trying to memorize every curve. Perhaps he is trying to imagine what I look like under the mask.

Little does he know that he already knows me.

“I am trying to go slowly,” he says. “You deserve to be treated like the angel you are…”

The fire in his eyes is all consuming, and with our closeness, I can feel the impressive growth in his pants, nudging against my hipbone.

I like moving slowly, especially with Wes, who touches me like he would one of his paintings. And Hugh likes to tease me, purposefully moving slow, bringing me to the edge.

Neither of these lovemaking styles seem to suit Conrad.

He is a man of action, of passion and strength. He is a strong leader of this family and of his hockey team.

He is the kind of man who takes what he wants.

“Conrad…” I say, the name coming out like a moan.

He closes his eyes. “Say that again, just as you did, and I might lose myself.”

I smile a little, feeling powerful in this moment. His lust, his desires, they are all for me.

Here, with just us two, his lovers of the past do not matter. Maybe our future is cloudy, but our present is clear.

Right here, right now. He is mine, and I am his. This moment is just for us.

So, taking a breath, I say his name, breathy and wilting, just as I did before. “Conrad…”

Growling, his fingers bit more prominently into me. I swear, I can feel the tips of his fingers turning to claws, digging holes into my clothes.

“You are playing with fire, Angel,” he says, his voice lust rough.

Looking up, I hold his gaze. There’s no room for miscommunication here. We both know what we want, and now is the time to have it.

“I want to burn,” I tell him.

His growl becomes a snarl. His fingers clutch different parts of my clothing, and with one, brutal tug, he rips my clothes clean in half, tearing them away from my body, leaving me exposed in my panties and bra.

Tossing aside the ruined shreds of clothing, his gaze drags down the length of my body. His eyes take their greedy fill of my breasts and then my hips.

I fight the instinct to cover myself. This is Conrad. He can be an asshole, but he is also my mate. I know I can trust him, and inexplicitly, I do.

Even with all the times he’s hurt me, I want him so badly I feel like I might collapse without his touch.

I’m not Ollie here. I’m Angel.

It’s so easy to pretend.

It’s so easy to have when there are no consequences.

With one of his hands, he grabs my panties. The other, he grabs my bra.

And just like that, those are also ripped away from me, until I’m naked before him.

I have no time to think, no time to be embarrassed, before he grabs me and tosses me onto the bed.

As I look at him, my chest heaving with want, my mouth watering with desire, he tears away his own clothes.

Then, growling, he pounces.