The Awakening: Britton (Entangled Covet) (19 page)

“Oh! I don’t think—”

Stopping her words, he parted her with his fingers, staring at the swollen nub. And then he licked her.

Immediately she tensed and grabbed his hair, trying to pull him back. He denied her request, flicking his

tongue across her again, and he continued until her sharp breaths signaled her need for more. When her

hands started pressing him closer, he sucked the nub deep into his mouth. The taste of her flooded his

senses, intoxicating him with her sweetness.

His beast stirred again. And he mentally cursed. He should have known finding his release and giving

her hers wouldn’t keep the powerful mating instinct under control for long. She was close again, and again

his body urged him to take her. Bite her. Mark her as his forever.

No. Not this time.

As he battled the instinct, he kept focus on the soft flesh beneath his mouth, licking, delving, sucking.

He feasted on her, until all he could taste and smell was her. When she came against his mouth, he lapped

up every bit of her desire as if it would be his last meal.

Trying not to think that it most likely was.

After they both had floated back to consciousness, he spooned behind her, holding her as she snuggled

back into his body. Her arms crossed over his and she linked their fingers together.

All this time he’d been worried about the
Drall
. Val had taken that out of his hands by kissing him, and

it had been euphoric…life-altering. He was an awakened shifter, holding his mate in his arms. Holding his

eternity.

He stared at their entangled fingers. And his heart sank. Angry confusion whirled through him. Because

he suddenly realized—

He may never be able to give her eternity.

In a few days’ time, he’d be human again, and he’d lose everything that made him a shifter. No doubt

including this wondrous gift from the
Dea
.

What would happen if he marked Val, and she reciprocated the ritual and marked him in return? They

would be bonded, their fates joined, both feeling the other’s life flow through their veins, each feeling the

other’s heart beat in time with their own. Connected.
One
.

But surely, that connection would be severed once the serum was given to him.

What would happen to either of them if they
fewsed
their souls together, and then he had his nature

ripped from him?

Val was a female, incapable of initiating the ritual. That right was given only to the shifter, the male,

who held the power to open the
Fewshon
in the woman. Only after he did that could she complete the

bonding by marking him.

But if Britton was no longer a shifter, he’d lose their bonding’s foundation. And where would that leave

Val? What would happen to her if he could no longer feel the bond? What kind of consequences would she

suffer after he was given the serum?

He didn’t know. Not a clue.

But it couldn’t be good.

And that terrified the shit out of him.

Chapter Nine

Britton found himself in a field of wildflowers. Beautiful and serene, Val tilted her face toward the sun,

a smile on her lips as the wind gently whipped her hair. Turning her head toward him she raised her arms,

beckoning him. He went into them willingly, holding her, treasuring her.

His mate.

Rough, uncaring, hands tore him from her. He struggled against their hold as he was dragged away and

deep cherry walls closed in around him. He fought harder.

No! He didn’t want to be human. He wanted to be her mate.

Steel cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles, anchoring him to hard wood.

Then she was there. Scuffling and screaming for him not to leave her. To stay with her. For all eternity.

A sharp stab pierced the skin of his side. Thick lavender liquid emptied out of a syringe and poured into

him. He bellowed in agony as his insides were reduced to cinder. The animal wailed, a wounded bellow,

before it staggered…and collapsed. Silent.

Val clutched her chest, her eyes rounding in shock, before collapsing, too.

“Val!” he yelled, yanking against his restraints. Desperate to reach her.

She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Still. So damn still.

His fault. All his fault!

Britton jackknifed up, gasping in deep breaths. Sweat coated his body, chilling him to the bone. The

tent around him slowly came into focus.

A nightmare.

Val was safe. He hadn’t harmed her, hadn’t marked her.

She hadn’t died because of his selfishness.

Thank
Dea
.

He gazed down at her, curled inside their sleeping bag, peacefully dreaming. Heart in his throat, he

caressed her hair, knowing he’d do everything within his power to protect her. Especially from himself.

The dream had brought forth every deep-seated fear he’d agonized over. The unknown. The

consequences.

What would happen to Val if he failed to control the uncontrollable instinct?

He
knew
what would happen to him.

The serum would kill every part of him that was shifter, just as it had over four years ago. Hell, it

apparently even killed the
Drall,
since for all that time he’d never been drawn to Val. In fact, he’d been

repelled by her…

He stiffened, a sick realization coming to him. No. That was an insane thought. After the treatment he

wasn’t supposed to have any connections to his shifter genes. The High Council had told him so.

But hadn’t he spent years struggling to understand why he’d loathed this woman so much? Was it

possible the serum had caused the instinct to do the opposite of what it was meant for?

Acid churned his stomach.

If Britton was given the serum, he might hate her again. Hell, there was little doubt he
would
hate her,

and what then? He would scowl and flinch away from her, hurting her every time he did. The idea made

bile rise in his throat.

The best thing he could do for Val was let her go on with her life, oblivious, as if she hadn’t changed

his forever.

There was only one way he could think of to put the needed distance back between them.

As he placed a gentle kiss on her temple, he took a moment to silently say goodbye, knowing if he

succeeded, in less than an hour she would hate him again—the way it had to be.

After he slid from under the sleeping bag and grabbed his backpack, he quietly left the tent, left behind

the love they’d made last night, and abandoned the future that should’ve been his.

His only concern now was for Val and what she deserved.

Tugging out a pair of jeans and a red thermal henley from his backpack, he dressed and laced up his

hiking boots. He busied himself with rebuilding the fire, then put on a pot of water to boil. But his attention

kept straying back to the tent as he listened for her to wake, his heart burning in his chest. All remained

silent, increasing his agitation.

Refocusing on his goal, he located the Ziploc bag he’d filled with instant rice, dried cranberries, ground

cinnamon, citrus zest, powdered milk, and brown sugar. He emptied the contents into the pan and poured

the boiling water over it.

Just as he heard the first rustle from inside the tent. He straightened his spine.

You have to do this. For her
.

The zip of the door opening and the crunch of her footfalls sounded behind him, and he turned to face

her. Tired lines etched the corners of her eyes, but there was a lightness in her movements that spoke of

happiness. He wavered, wanting to grab the eternity he was entitled to as shifter.

But he wouldn’t be one for much longer.

“Something smells good,” she said.

“Breakfast.” He kept his tone neutral, impersonal, and by the way her brows shot up, she noticed.

“I’m definitely famished. Worked up a bit of an appetite last night,” she teased. But there was hesitation

in her voice now. Suspicion.

Ah, hell. Not working.

He couldn’t take a freeze-out tactic with Val. She would see right through him. There were enough

stories circulating about him that she’d know he was lying when he dropped his final bomb.

Forcing a wolfish smile, he scooped out a portion of the mixture and put it on a plate, drizzled honey

over it, and handed it to Val. “
Mm-hmm
. We sure did. Too bad we don’t have time for a repeat

performance.”

When her shoulders relaxed, he felt like a complete ass.

“Maybe when we get back to the cabin?” she suggested with a wink.

It was the opening he needed, but for the life of him he couldn’t force the words out of his mouth. He

cleared his throat.

For her.

“Can’t tonight,” he finally got out, but had to look away to deliver the rest. He stared off at the woods.

A warning rumble vibrated in his chest, his beast’s displeasure making itself known. He had to get this over

quickly before the animal really tried to interfere. “With this hiatus from the case, I get to use my backup

plan.” When she remained silent, he added, “I have a hot date, remember? We’ll pick things up where we

left off tomorrow.”

He made himself glance at her, and goddamn it, he wished he hadn’t. He could go an entire lifetime

without seeing the hurt tighten those sweet lips. His beast growled, quivering in rage.

Her arm holding the plate of food lowered a little. “W-what?”

“I have plans with Olivia tonight, remember?” He screwed his face into a holy-shit look. “Wait a

minute. You didn’t think…” He swept his hand toward the tent. Mostly because he couldn’t say anymore.

His throat had closed up completely.

After a frozen second, she spun with a shaky laugh. “No! No…not at all. Uh…I just thought that would

get canceled…you know…because of the investigation.”

He put a hand over his heart, going for relieved, when in reality it felt like his chest was going to

explode knowing he had to deliver the final blow.

The one that would seal it.

“You scared me there for a minute. I know things were strained with us before, but you of all people

should know the score with me. I’m glad you didn’t read more into this than it is.”

She made a
spttttt
sound. “With you? Never.” She looked away and he watched her throat convulse on

a swallow. “I-I need to get a few things together.”

She vaulted to her feet, leaving behind her untouched food. Her departure made his beast charge

forward, urging Britton to follow. Closing his eyes, he battled to stay seated.

I could possibly hate her in a couple of days. Is that what you want? Where would it get us then?

The beast howled its disagreement, but surprisingly went silent. As if even it was resigned to the fact

that he and Val had no future.

…

Val walked ahead of Britton, hastening her footsteps anytime she heard him quicken his pace. She had

to stay well in front of him; she was too damn close to crying like a lovesick fool, and she refused to let him

see it.

I have a hot date.

Having red-hot coals placed on her skin would have been less painful than those words.

Why did his indifference hurt so badly? She’d
known
what she was getting into when she decided to do

this. Britton had never claimed to be a saint; he wore the man-whore badge with pride. He loved his

women, and they loved him. Many, and often.

But damn…it hurt.

Val blamed the awesome sex. She refused to call it lovemaking, though at times it had felt like that, had

brought forth overwhelming emotions deep inside her, especially when he’d gazed down at her with those

vivid, violet eyes. There was only one word to describe how that tender, possessive look had made her feel:

cherished.

And she’d felt that tightening in her chest again, along with a need to touch him. Not grope, scratch, or

squeeze him, but run her palm down his face, cup his cheek, and kiss him gently. Tender feelings.
Feeling

feelings.

Add in his attentiveness to her needs and the way he held her tight, and somewhere during the night

holding hands and cuddling had joined the ranks with wanting to touch and hold him.

And all the while she’d lain cocooned by his body, finally admitting to herself that Britton had

somehow worked his way past her defenses and into her heart, he’d been anticipating his date with Olivia.

Pathetic
.

Even more pathetic was how badly it had hurt, realizing how easily he could leave her bed and

immediately hop into another.

It shouldn’t be easy for him—not with Val. She prided herself for being different. Being with her

should have wiped every other female from the man’s mind. But it hadn’t, and she was a fool for believing

that the tenderness she’d seen last night was anything other than a man eager to get laid.

What was the
matter
with her? She was never like this. She knew how to separate sex and emotions.

She’d done it often enough. How could Britton
,
of
all
people, be the one she couldn’t do that with?