Chapter 145: Chapter Nine

Serenity

I was either losing my mind, or Mason was outside howling at the moon. In a tangle of sheets, I finally got out of bed and walked over to the window.

He was standing in the same worn jeans as before, only this time he was completely barefoot as the moon cast a silver glow over his face.

It was as if he was growing before my very eyes. I was no wolf expert, but even I knew that they stayed the same size throughout their immortal lives. Wolves didn’t grow with age.

And yet he was definitely increasing in girth.

This morning he’d been at least two inches shorter than when he brought me his steak.

His biceps, while impressive before, now stretched and strained against his skin as if they were dying to break through. The night air blew his hair across his sharp cheekbones.

Every inch of skin was just barely containing an arsenal of muscle that was so impressive it was hard to look away.

I gulped out a “Wow.”

Mason’s head jerked up to the window.

I completely froze.

His dark eyes locked on mine, and then very slowly lightened to an ice-blue. Another wolf trick I’d never seen before, not that I hung out in their packs.

He started walking back toward the house.

I could feel my heart in my throat as his heavy footsteps gave way up the stairs and finally down the hall until the door to my room was shoved open, and he ducked inside.

His shaggy hair was kissing his shoulders as he made his way toward me slowly, cautiously, as if I was the danger, not him.

Muscle stretched across his abdomen and stomach, glistening with a sheen of sweat.

I gulped and then whispered, “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you were doing. I just… I heard you.”

He frowned. “Heard me?”

I felt so stupid. “Howling.”

He cracked a smile. “It’s not called howling. It’s called singing.”

I squinted up at him. “But… it sounds like a howl.”

He smiled a bit more, making me feel warm inside instead of afraid, lonely.

“To a vampire, it sounds like a howl, a protective intimidation technique. It sounds the same to humans. But to the angels? The stars? Or our own packs? It sounds like…”

He looked lost in a dream as his face broke out into a smile. “…it sounds like the song of salvation.”

“Is it always the same?”

“Always.” He shrugged. “The howl, as you call it, was passed down to the immortal wolves, a gift from our Creator, a way to create protection over our packs and young while giving him the glory for it in the first place. It is our cry to return to the stars, our thanks. It’s the story of our beginning and the eventual story of our end.” He looked down, his eyes closing. “It has been a long time since my song has joined others.”

I reached out, thought twice about it, then just soldiered forward and pressed a hand to his arm then squeezed. “Why?”

He looked down at my hand, confusion marring his brow before he placed a hand on top of mine and then very slowly ran his thumb across my skin.

I shivered.

“I am their leader, but I found I couldn’t lead the way I needed to when my mate died. I left my second in command. It is better that way.”

I closed my eyes and listened as his blood roared to life beneath my touch almost as if it was attempting to escape his body and join with mine.

I’d never felt another person’s blood call so strong, like an invisible tether beneath the skin just waiting to latch on.

As the silence stretched, I was able to focus more and more.

The blood started to chant “King, King, King” like before.

He stopped brushing his thumb over my skin.

I opened my eyes just as one last chant fell from the blood. “Yours.”

He removed his hand and pulled away, his eyes searching mine with intensity I hadn’t been prepared for.

“What did you hear, vampire?”

“King,” I said honestly. “Your blood says King.”

He jerked his head away; his eyes focused in on the moon again as if it would help him with the heaviness that he carried with him like a battle scar. “What else?”

“What makes you think there’s more?” I asked cautiously.

He gulped. “Nothing.” He shook his head. “It’s… nothing. You should sleep. I’ll check on you later—”

“Wait!”

He turned on his heel. “Yes?”

“Can I maybe… go downstairs and watch a movie or something? I’m going a little stir-crazy up here?” I knew it was a long shot. The guy liked to be alone, and apparently, howling at the moon was his favorite pastime.

I waited.

He eyed me up and down then bit firmly on his bottom lip before tucking his hair behind his ears in obvious irritation. “Fine.”

It was more of a bark than an actual word, but I was taking what I could get when it came to him, and I was desperate to leave my bed. Besides, I had an entire season of ~Outlander~ to watch.

I’d just been getting started on the last season when I’d fallen asleep and then somehow been attacked as I’d been searching for the man who’d called to me.

I shivered and followed Mason out of the room, slowly measuring each step as a wince of pain rocked through me with each movement.

I would do anything for blood.

Blood would fix this.

Blood would make me feel better.

I felt my vision blur just as Mason’s strong arms wrapped around me. Why hadn’t they at least offered blood? Ethan was one of the oldest vampires in the world; he had to know I needed blood.

Why hadn’t any of that occurred to me before?

Mason grunted and placed me on a soft leather couch then pointed to a blanket. “Genesis calls it a throw. I don’t know why the hell a blanket of fur is called a throw, but regardless, if you get cold, you can use it.”

I wanted to remind him that vampires rarely got cold when another tremor wracked my body, reminding me yet again that my vampire side hadn’t been itself ever since Mason had licked me.

“Is Ethan here?” I asked in a small voice.

He full-on glared. “Why would you need Ethan? He’s mated.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I said in annoyance. “I just figured since he’s a vampire, he’d know my ne—”

I stopped short when Mason pounced in front of me and grabbed my chin between his fingers. “Needs? You think he can measure your needs? Am I doing such a horrible job?”

“You’re angry,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. “Why are you angry?”

His nostrils flared. “Am I not doing a good enough job for you? What else could you possibly need? I fed you. I gave you a blanket. I made you comfortable, and I healed your scars!” Each word came out louder than the next until his body was humming with barely pent-up aggression.

I instinctually tried to pull away.

He just held onto me tighter.

“What. Do. You. Need?” he repeated.

“B-blood.” I felt shame. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because I felt weak, and I hated it; maybe another part of me didn’t want to seem dependent. But it was a way of life, and it was what helped give me life.

He dropped my chin immediately and staggered backward. You’d have thought I’d just told him the boogeyman existed and was living in my head.

“Mason?”

He shook his head and then bit back a curse so loud that my ears rang before he stomped away, and from the sounds of it, was breaking things in the kitchen.

Tears overflowed my eyes until I heard him coming back.

I quickly wiped my cheeks and tossed the blanket over my body, not only so I looked like I was comfortable, but also to put a barrier between us.

Like a fur blanket would do anything if he wanted to pounce. I was a weak little lamb compared to his bear-like stature.

“Here.” He thrust a glass in my direction, causing some of the contents to slip over the edge and onto his hand.

Blood.

He looked down, his breathing heavy. “Take it, damn it!”

I grabbed the glass before it spilled, noticing how his hand shook as blood dripped down his fingertips.

His eyes flashed blue again, and then he was bracing himself against the mantle on the fireplace. I was afraid he was going to break it in half.

“Drink,” he urged in a gravelly voice that didn’t sound at all like him. It sounded more beast than man.

I chugged the blood, gulp after gulp; its tang was like thick tonic to my soul as it healed me from the inside out, knitting things back together that had been broken and numbing the pain that had been debilitating for two days.

I carefully put the glass on the table. “I’m done.”

He exhaled and turned; his blue eyes locked on to mine. “How did it taste?” His voice was still animalistic by nature, his eyes crazed. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought he was… Aroused… which should have terrified me; instead, I felt hot all over as his gaze raked up and down the blanket as if he could view me beneath, see my skin.

“Good.” The word finally tumbled from my blood-stained lips. “It tasted good. Thank you.”

He inclined his head and eyed the glass.

Did he want it?

I frowned at him.

He shook his head and then grabbed the remote and tossed it on the couch. “Go wild.” He started to walk off.

“Wait!” Why was I calling the monster back into the room again? “Um, where is everybody?”

He stiffened. “The council is out on official business for a few days. It’s just you and me.”

I couldn’t help the gulp, just like he probably couldn’t help the look of pain that flashed across his face as he glanced at me and the glass again.

“So, stay and watch ~Outlander~?” I offered.

“Out what er?” he repeated, “Is that a movie?”

I gasped in outrage. “It’s only the best show on TV!”

“~American Ninja Warrior~ is the best show on TV,” he argued. “Damn Ethan, won’t even let me try out.”

I covered my mouth with my hand to keep the laughter in. “You would either kill the contestants or be too heavy for the obstacles.”

His head whipped in my direction. “Did you just call me fat?”

My eyebrows shot up. “The only fat part of your body is probably your head.”

“Thank you.” Sarcasm was apparently lost on him as he took the compliment and then let out a little half-bark-half-laugh. “You called me a fathead.” His smile grew. “Vampires, so mature…”

“Hey, you’re the one running around throwing temper tantrums and breaking things then getting angry at me one minute and—” I gulped as his eyes flashed then locked onto mine.

Shit.

“I’m not angry at you,” he finally said, looking away.

“Then who are you angry at?”

“Everything else.” He took a seat far away from me and nodded to the television. “Show me this ~Outlander~. I’ll decide what’s better.”

“And if it’s better?”

A smirk replaced his scowl. “If it’s better, then you win, and I cook you steak again. If it’s not better, I win, and you go hunting with me.”

“Deal.” I held out my hand.

He stared at it for at least three seconds before grabbing it, dwarfed by the size of his hand, and giving it a shake.

He didn’t let go; instead, he tugged me closer to him until I almost splayed across his lap and then touched his nose to my neck and inhaled.

He rubbed his head against mine and spoke softly in my ear. “This is how wolves make bets.”

I gulped and whispered hoarsely, “Noted.”