“You came first,” she mumbled.

“No, you did.”

A lazy, derisive snort popped out of her. “Full of shit.”

“Yes, you are.” He flinched as her claw scraped his nipple. “Maybe we came at the same time.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

On Sundays, Mila often woke to the feel of Dominic’s mouth exploring some very interesting places on her body. That particular Sunday morning, she woke to him snuggled into her side as she lay on her stomach, his fingers doodling patterns on her back. There was nothing seductive in his lazy, casual touch. And yet, there was so much greed and possessiveness. Even as the rough pads of his fingers lightly breezed over her, they clearly stated “Mine.”

Her cat arched into his touch, purring. She was remarkably cheery. As a rule, the feline didn’t do “cheery.”

Mila opened her eyes to find his own staring back at her, glinting with masculine contentment and . . . was that worry? She couldn’t quite tell. “Morning.”

“Morning.” He kissed her shoulder, tracing the bumps of her spine. “Did you know that you frown a lot in your sleep?”

She blinked. “Frown?”

“It’s almost like your default sleep-expression. My wolf finds it cute.” Dominic kissed her shoulder again, his mouth curving into a secret smile.

“You look rather self-satisfied.” She narrowed her eyes. “What? Why are you smirking? I feel like I’m missing something.”

He danced his tongue over the little cluster of freckles on her shoulder. “You’re wearing my scent. And I’m wearing yours. You know what that means.” Imprinting had started. Although Dominic worried a little that she might not be enthusiastic about it, he couldn’t help feeling just as smug as his wolf.

Now she was no longer just a woman he cared for, she was his mate. It didn’t matter to him that they wouldn’t be officially considered mates until the imprinting bond formed—he had no intention of letting her go. Any shifter she came across would instantly scent Dominic on her and understand she was taken. When the imprinting progressed, his scent would be permanently embedded in her skin.

Realizing he was right, Mila smiled. “No wonder my cat’s in a good mood. How do you feel about it?”

“Smug. Happy. Relieved. I didn’t let myself really see how much I wanted this until now. What about you?”

“Happy. Surprised. Annoyed that I didn’t sense it straightaway.” Her brow creased. “I thought it would make me feel more secure.”

“It doesn’t?”

She slid her fingers through his hair. “Trying to hold on to you would be like trying to hold on to the wind. All I can do is hope you’ll choose to stay.”

God, if he could kick his own ass for making her doubt him, he would. Dominic snuggled closer to her. “You don’t have to hold on, baby. You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that now. And I believe you mean it, but—”

“Mila, I don’t have to tell you that I’ve known a lot of women in my time. None of them captured my attention the way you have. None of them made me want more than a bit of fun. I never dreamed about them. Never obsessed over them. Never marked them. Never cared for them. Imprinting is a huge deal for anyone, but it’s even bigger for someone like me.

“I want this. I want you as my mate. Fuck, if I could get away with it, I’d put a claiming mark on your neck right now even though we’re not fully imprinted yet, but I know you won’t go for that.” He cupped her nape. “Are you hearing me, Mila? There’s no danger of me walking away from you. None.”

Mila took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Relief whooshed through Dominic. Just “okay.” Just one word. But there was a wealth of acceptance and faith in it. She trusted his word on this, even though his eventful sexual past might have suggested that he wasn’t ready for commitment.

She’d never once thrown his past in his face. Never once judged, condemned, or bitched at him for it—not even when females tried their luck with him right in front of her. It would have been easy for her to take that out on him, to blame him for the hurt she’d felt at the time, but Mila never once had.

She couldn’t imagine how much it meant to Dominic that she hadn’t given up on him after he’d messed up and hurt her last night. His parents had always found fault in him. Always criticized and lectured him for the slightest infraction. Mila hadn’t judged or slammed him. Hadn’t tossed him out on his ass, verbally struck back at him, or pushed him away. Instead, she’d left him to either walk out or clean up the mess he’d made. And then, having listened as he’d shared his secrets, she’d demonstrated a level of understanding and compassion—not pity, which he couldn’t have taken—that no one else had ever given him.

That was one of the things about Mila that had always made him feel comfortable around her, he realized. She accepted people for who they were—accepted their good points and bad points. Never expected them to be anything else. Never expected perfection. Never expected more of them than what they could give.

Dominic needed that acceptance. Having someone who cared for him exactly as he was . . . he’d never had that before. He wanted to cling tight to it.

“Kiss me,” he whispered. She gave him her mouth—no hesitation, no defiance. The kiss was soft, deep, drugging. And he soon had her flat on her back, spreading her legs wide for him. He took her slow and hard, gave her no reprieve. When they were both close to shattering, he snarled, “Mark me again, Mila. On my throat this time, where everyone can see it.” The moment her teeth closed around his flesh, he came with a growl of her name.

Her parents popped in to check on Mila just before she and Dominic were about to head to Phoenix Pack territory. Both Valentina and James were delighted to see that the imprinting process had started, and Mila could tell that they intended to take full credit for the fact that she and GQ were together. Yeah, her parents’ little plot had certainly paid off.

As all four of them were leaving her apartment, James whipped out his cell to call Ingrid and pass on the news. And seeing how fast her mother was dashing up the stairs to her apartment, Mila just knew that Valentina was intending to call her own mother.

“Ingrid is quite the Chatty Cathy,” Mila told Dominic as they descended the stairs. “So it won’t be long before the entire pride knows we’re partially imprinted.”

He squeezed her hand. “Good. The sooner everyone knows, the better.”

“How do you think your pack will feel about it?”

He pursed his lips. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they bet it would happen sooner or later. They won’t like losing a bet. Still, they’ll be happy for us.”

Her brow furrowed. “Surely they wouldn’t bet on something like that.”

“That’s just—” Dominic cut off as a familiar unwelcome scent drifted to them. And then, just as they turned to descend the next stairwell, they saw Joel coming toward them. Dominic’s wolf stood to his full height, his upper lip curling.