Tuesday Teaser 5/8/18 Gina’s Wolf Part 10

Hey, I’ve been fascinated with the whole #cockygate #byefaleena debacle. It’s kind of like a car crash. It’s horrible but I can’t look away.

But you probably want to read more of Cole and Gina, not listen to me rant about trademarks and how some perfectly nice authors have been bullied into changing their book titles or have had some pulled or frozen on Amazon. At least I hope you want to read more of Gina and Cole. I considered changing the title to Gina’s Cocky Wolf, because IS cocky, but I guess I will stick with Gina’s Wolf. At least until someone trademarks “wolf” or “mate”. Ahem.

Here you go: the section in Gina and Cole’s story. Remember, this is only a the rough draft and it will probably change before it is published. Ready? Here you go:

His mate. She lay on her side with her cheek at the edge of a fat pillow, a thick layer of blankets and quilts tucked under her chin. Her face was slack with exhaustion, the bruise at her hairline horrifyingly obvious. That was his fault. Cole rubbed a hand over his chest to still the ache there. His stupid wolf had dragged her into the cold and she’d been forced to hurry behind him for miles without proper clothes to keep her warm. It wasn’t until she had fallen that he had managed to rouse and push his way past the wolf to take control again. He allowed his finger to glide lightly over his mate’s hair before curling his hands into fists and pulling back. He’d never thought of himself as weak, but only a weakling would stay buried behind the safety of the wolf, particularly when his mate was in peril.

Weariness dragged at him, magnifying the pain in his head. There was a sliver of empty space in the narrow bed. He could lie there with his mate pressed against him. The scent of her skin would sooth the headache. He reached for the blanket pulled up to her chin, but paused, his fist clenching again.

She wouldn’t like it. She hadn’t accepted his claim yet. Most of him wanted to brush that aside and lie with his body curved around hers, inhaling her delicious scent and feeling the warmth of her body sink into him. A very small part of him knew his mate would object to that. With a deep sigh, he surrendered to reason and lowered himself to sit on the floor, his back against the wall, one shoulder propped against the bed. If he slumped just a little his face was level with hers. Her breath drifted over his cheek. It was almost as good as lying beside her. With a faint smile on his lips, he folded his arms over his chest, let his head drop to rest on the mattress next to her pillow, and fell asleep.

The weak March sun filtered through the blue gingham curtain and painted a golden stripe over Gina’s eyelids. The warmth of it roused her from sleep. Without opening her eyes, she stretched her toes beneath the comforting weight of the quilts and wondered what time it was. She rolled to her side and reveled in the quiet joy of a warm bed. She punched the feather pillow into a more comfortable shape beneath her cheek and snuggled into it. Something on the pillow tickled her nose. She brushed her hair out of the way. Her nose still tickled. She opened her eyes a crack to get a better view of the offending hair.

It was black. Her eyes opened wider. Black? Her hair was mousy brown. The bleary confusion vanished with a jolt when she saw the black hair was attached to a head. Cole. He slumped with his cheek against the edge of the mattress, one side of his forehead pressed to the side of her pillow. His face was relaxed in deep sleep. She could look her fill without him knowing. She inched away and raised herself on one elbow to look down at him. She could see only half his face. It was dark against the white pillowcase and sheet. His nose was a straight blade, his eyebrow a dark slash. She’d always thought his mouth was hard, but now his lips looked soft. What would they feel like if she dipped her head right now and kissed him? When she remembered what had happened in the mudroom before he left to patrol, a strange warmth spread through her. He was asleep. He’d never know.

That thought was too tempting. She eased a few inches further away and went back to studying him. His eyelashes were unfairly thick and long. Men shouldn’t have such long eyelashes. With those lush lashes and soft mouth, he looked almost pretty. No, his chin was too square for that, his jaw too hard. She nibbled her lower lip, studying him. Not pretty. She angled her head to see more of him. He was handsome in both his face and his body. Strong and sleek. His father was a powerful man. Cole had probably had a bunch of other women friends. Had those women stroked along the line of his shoulder and down his arm? Had they pressed their cheeks to his heart? Had they skimmed their hands down his chest to his belt?

She paused to consider the small, jagged pain those thoughts pushed through her chest. Jealousy. Did she even have a right to be jealous? Yes. He said she was his mate. From he and Nikki had said, his community didn’t share their women like Brother Saul’s commune did. She they were married, she would darned well demand that he leave other women alone.

Married. She wasn’t sure if she wanted that or not. But she liked watching him sleep. He was wearing the borrowed jeans, but his torso was bare. Long, lean muscles showed in his shoulders and arms. She could barely see his belly past his folded arms. She leaned a little forward to get a better look. He certainly couldn’t be called girlish.

Her hair fell from behind her ear. She jerked back too late. A large brown hand shot out and gripped her shoulder. Cole blinked. Eyes the color of melted bitter chocolate fixed on her.

“Good morning,” she squeaked.

His hand dropped away. He lifted his head from the bed to glance at the window. “Not morning,” he said in a low, gravelly whisper.

“Um, no, I guess it’s late afternoon. Maybe.” She coughed and drew herself to a sitting position, excruciatingly aware that he could see her borrowed nightgown. She pulled the blankets high, which was stupid. The worn cotton flannel covered a lot more of her than her dinner dress had. “Sorry to wake you.”

His smile was disarmingly sleepy. “That’s alright. What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she blurted.