The Somerset Series: A Box Set: Books 2-4 Page 9

  "Why do you care?" he asked. His tone was demanding and rough, but Bridgette's ears were sharp enough to detect the curiosity behind it.

  "You saved my life," she murmured as she grabbed long, cloth bandages. "Of course I care." She didn't say anything more, but she started to wrap the material around Marcus's broad body.

  She didn't realize she had just been admitted that until a few moments later, and the revelation caused her knees to grow weak. She had to grip the counter with her free hand in order to steady herself. She cared about Marcus Sterling. She cared about the man she had intended to arrest just a week ago. She cared about the werewolf who turned her into one of them without her permission. Bridgette shook her head, trying to rid herself of such thoughts, and managed to become successful at the task, if only temporarily.

  When she had finished, she walked around him and caught his eye.

  "Thank you," she told him genuinely, "For what you did."

  Marcus remained silent but nodded once again. He pushed off the counter, now standing in front of her at full height, their bodies centimeters apart. Bridgette didn't move, though. She wanted him to kiss her, to do more than that. She wanted him to take her upstairs to his bedroom and lock her there for an undetermined amount of time, but she didn't think his back would allow him to do such a thing; not yet, anyways.

  He looked as though he wanted to ask her something, but she couldn’t imagine what that might be. Worry was clearly written in his hazel eyes, however, and the emotion made her heart constrict. She had a feeling Marcus was good at concealing what he really felt, but he wasn’t doing that right now. Maybe he couldn’t help it. Maybe the sight of her standing in front of those wolves had caused him to care more than he intended to. It was a miracle that he had managed to reach her in time.

  Marcus said nothing but sighed through his nose. Without another word, he turned and headed upstairs to get some sleep. Bridgette felt herself deflate at his sudden departure, and decided to do the same thing.

  16

  It was just before seven and Bridgette was standing in front of a full-length mirror in her bedroom, her eyes going sharply over her attire. Currently, she was wearing a dress - one of the many she found heavily stocked in her wardrobe - and she wanted to make sure she looked presentable before she left her room to join the pack for breakfast. Her mind hadn’t changed about whether or not she wanted to be with the wolf – she didn't – but she felt that after what he did for her, she should be more respectful and at least dine with them. That was what he had wanted, right? She owed him that much.

  To be honest, Bridgette felt absolutely ridiculous going down to breakfast in this sort of getup, but it was what they expected and she didn't want to embarrass Marcus any more than she already had. She turned so now her body was at a profile angle, and like all women, she checked out the size of her backside in this particular dress. It didn't look too big, but that was okay. It fit her body and her frame.

  When her eyes drifted back up, she looked at her face. Bridgette didn't really like to wear makeup all that much; she was the type of girl that would have rather slept in than wake up early to put it on – and she did. Also, her face was pretty enough that it really didn't need any. Because of her lack of practice, she always managed to smudge the eyeliner or the mascara wasn't even coated properly on the eyelashes. For the most part, the makeup she forced herself to put on today was light - it was only morning after all - but Bridgette made it a point to heighten her eye color by focusing on her eyeliner and mascara.

  After a long moment, she seemed satisfied.

  A knock startled her, and she turned, hoping that it wasn't Marcus. To her relief, it was only Abigail. The girl brightened upon seeing Bridgette awake, and even better, dressed. It almost seemed as though she was preparing for another fight.

  "Are you coming to breakfast?" Abigail asked with wonder, her eyes focused on the dress currently displayed on Bridgette's body.

  Bridgette looked back at her reflection, still unsure of herself. The dress was semi-formal, a golden color that didn't wash her features out. It had tank top like straps and a square-cut on top. Outlining the cut was a floral pattern, flowers that resembled roses and right underneath was a thick ribbon that tied in the back. The bodice was somewhat low, but nothing too revealing. From there, the dress draped loosely, giving her silhouette a willowy texture. The hemline ended at her knees, and she was wearing matching strappy heels. Her hair was worn in a style the French had popularized; half up, half down. She pulled her eyes away from the mirror and looked back at Abigail.

  "Yeah," she replied, nodding her head a couple of times.

  "Why?" The question seemed blunt for Abigail, and to be honest, and even the wolf seemed surprised when she realized she had asked it. However, despite her embarrassment, she managed to maintain eye contact with Bridgette, expecting an answer.

  "Did you hear the commotion from last night?" Bridgette asked, slowly arching up a brow. Abigail nodded. "Right, well that was Marcus… saving my life."

  Abigail's head slowly turned to the side. "What?" she asked.

  "It's a long story," Bridgette said, not really wanting to discuss it. "But basically, Julianne came in after you left last night and told me she could help me escape. She led me to the kitchen door and pushed me out where a hungry pack of wolves was waiting. Before I could get back in, she closed it behind me. I literally thought I was going to die, but before anything happened, Marcus came and… as a wolf." She frowned at her own interruption. "I'm not sure how he knew I was in any danger…"

  Abigail smiled knowingly before pointing out the clearly visible mark decorating Bridgette's neck. "It's your connection," she explained. "You may not be fully aware of it, but Marcus is. He probably felt your fear and came to your rescue." Her smile deepened. "He's amazing, isn't he?"

  Bridgette grinned. "It sounds like you're in love with him too," she observed out loud.

  Abigail blushed. "Not really," she said, avoiding eye contact. "It's just a crush. It’s nothing big. Every girl in the pack has a crush on him. I mean, have you seen him?"

  "Definitely eye candy," Bridgette agreed, suddenly, for the first time, feeling comfortable in her surroundings. Though she hadn't known Abigail for very long, Bridgette felt as though she could tell her almost anything.

  "Wait a minute," Abigail said, glancing back over at Bridgette. "What do you mean 'in love with him too?’"

  "Julianne told me that the reason she helped me escape was because she wanted to be his queen," Bridgette told her.

  Abigail snorted. "You don't have to worry about Marcus's affections shifting from you to Julianne," she informed her new acquaintance, even though Bridgette had continuously expressed a dismissive attitude towards Marcus's affections. "He's never once had such feelings for her. If he had, she would already be queen. Be careful, though. She gets really possessive of things she sees as hers, and Marcus is definitely one of those things. She's never really had to get crazy-protective over him yet because he hasn't been interested in anyone, and while the single females of the pack have crushes on him, she recognizes that they're not serious. This whole thing with you and Marcus though? That's definitely serious, whether you'll admit it or not. He marked you, and even though it wasn't exactly with your consent, it's very symbolic in our culture. That's equal to a guy giving a girl a wedding ring. So Julianne definitely sees you as a threat, and it's just good to be wary that she can be a crazy psycho bitch." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Does Marcus know it was Julianne that pushed you outside?"

  Bridgette shook her head. "I completely forgot to tell him," she murmured. "I just…" She started blushing and made it a point to look at the floor rather than at Abigail. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay, you know?"

  "I know," Abigail replied, but there was something in her smile that caused Bridgette to realize Abigail probably knew more than she was letting on. "Oh, and just so you know, those weren't werewolves trying to get you; that was
a regular wolf pack. They live somewhere in the forests and we usually feed them our leftovers if they can't find anything themselves." She nodded her head to the door. "Are you ready to go to breakfast?"

  Suddenly, Bridgette felt incredibly nervous. "Uh…" She stalled her answer and shrugged her shoulders sheepishly, wondering, for a moment, whether or not she could back out of this still.

  "Oh come on," Abigail said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed onto Bridgette's wrist and all but dragged her to the door. "They'll like you, so quit worrying."

  Marcus wished he could be surprised that Bridgette's seat was empty when he came down for breakfast, but he wasn't. His eyes lingered on her seat as he carefully lowered himself to his, making sure not to lean against the back of his chair. Those wolves did a number on him; he didn’t even want to think about what would have happened to Bridgette if he hadn’t known she was in danger. Which made this whole breakfast so disappointing. Her absence just informed him that his act of heroism really meant nothing to her. She couldn’t even be bothered to eat with–

  And it was then that he saw her. Everything froze as he watched her walk into the dining room, being led by Abigail. He didn't think he had ever seen her more beautiful. It caused his insides to warm, knowing that she had spent time on her appearance. It showed that she cared about his reputation. At least, he hoped she did.

  "Good morning," he heard her murmur to the table, in general, her cheeks slightly red due to how nervous she seemed to be. She was probably embarrassed, though, having everyone's eyes on her, being the reason the rumble of the conversation came to a halt.

  Marcus managed to catch her eyes, and she smiled at him. It resembled that of a secret that only the two of them shared, and he cocked his own lips up to return it.

  "Good morning," Julianne greeted in return, her voice overly cheerful as her crisp blue eyes locked on Bridgette's frame. Marcus watched as Bridgette glanced up, her eyes narrowed, and smiled – though, it might have been his imagination, but it seemed forced - in response. He frowned. He would have to ask Bridgette about that later. "I have a question about this whole thing between you and Marcus. No offense Marcus, but do you think it wise that your potential wife works at the Nocturnal Defense Society? Don't we have conflicting interests?"

  The silence only got louder, and all eyes went from Julianne back over to Bridgette. Not Marcus, but Bridgette, as though she would somehow know the answer to that question.

  Bridgette nearly tripped over her feet as she pulled her seat out. She felt her whole face pale. Marriage? She wasn't stupid; she knew that the bite Marcus had inflicted on her meant that it was a possibility that he wanted her as his queen, but she wasn't aware that marriage actually went along with it. Silly, she knew, but marriage itself had never been on her to-do list.

  "Actually," one of the Elders said, speaking for her. Bridgette couldn’t remember his name, but Abigail mentioned that both Elders were older and wore black during meals to emphasize their position in the pack. "I think that that could only benefit our pack and their organization. It could help bridge a gap between werewolves and humans in some way."

  Some of the wolves began to murmur together at his answer, and Bridgette felt herself relax thanks to the shift in attention. Her eyes found Marcus.

  "Marcus," Bridgette spoke, her voice sharp but soft. "Do you think I could talk to you alone for a moment? It won't take long."

  Marriage had never been a part of the deal, and if it was, Bridgette wanted out. Now.

  17

  "Marriage?" she asked him once they were safely in her room and the door was closed behind them. Marcus would surely be able to smell - or hear, no less - if someone were to come try and eavesdrop on their conversation. "I heard Queen thrown out there, but I didn't expect marriage to be part of the equation."

  "You can't be Queen unless you are married to me," Marcus said, his hazel eyes locked with her icy ones. He seemed to be searching for something, but she didn’t know what that was. "It goes hand in hand."

  "Yeah, well I didn't know that," Bridgette snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing out the window. She looked back over at him for a moment, studying him before stating, "I don't want to marry you."

  "I never asked you to marry me," Marcus said, suddenly defensive. His brow was pushed down, nearly overlapping with his eyes, but Bridgette wasn't intimidated by him whatsoever.

  "Obviously, you did because you gave me this stupid mark on my neck," Bridgette said, thrusting her finger up so it pointed at her throat. "It's not like we knew each other before then. It's not like we had any sort of conversation that told you that I was okay with this thing."

  "Don't you think I know that?" Marcus growled, mimicking her expression. "Trust me; the whole thing happened because of instinct. If I actually knew who you were as a person, I would never have actually considered leaving my mark on you."

  "And what is that supposed to mean?" Bridgette questioned, throwing her arms out in anger. She saw his eyes lock in on her jaw as she clenched it.

  "You know exactly what it means," Marcus told her as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're stubborn and you're rude, you don't care about anyone but yourself, you're opinionated and you're closed-minded, and you're selfish."

  Bridgette's mouth dropped open and her eyes stung though tears had yet to form. Nobody had ever spoken to her in such a demeaning way. "Yeah?" she retorted, her tone sharp. She hoped that her voice didn't quiver as she continued. "Well, you're no picnic either. You're loud and obnoxious, inconsiderate, and no matter what, you think you're right. You take what you want from people without asking questions, without taking into consideration what they want. You think I'm selfish? You wrote the book, buddy. You're a piece of work."

  For a moment, the two merely glared at each other, their breathing slightly hitched due to the fact that their words were rushed so that their mouths would be able to keep pace with their mind. Then, without any sort of warning whatsoever, Marcus grabbed Bridgette's face roughly into his palms and pressed his lips against hers, demanding her attention.

  Though Bridgette would never admit it, she welcomed his advances and responded to them just as hungrily as he was.

  His tongue pushed between her lips in order to taste every inch of her mouth. His need for her had started to grow ever since he bit into her flesh, and he wanted more. She was right; he couldn't control himself when he was around her, but at the moment, it didn't seem to matter.

  Her hands were gripping his thick hair, her arms wrapped around his neck as tightly as they possibly could be. Her back was arched up, her breasts pressing against his hard chest.

  God, he needed her.

  She broke apart from him, only to catch her breath.

  It suddenly dawned on her that he had kissed her while she was mad at him. This seemed to piss her off even more because for that moment when her lips were connected with his, she completely forgot everything around her and all that was in her mind. Mad wasn't exactly the right word either; she was furious. And to prove her point, she reached up and slapped him across the face.

  With lightning-fast reflexes, Marcus grabbed her wrist before she could drop it to her side, and stepped towards her, his chest pushing her body so her back hit the wall, and before she could even blink, he claimed her lips once more.

  While Bridgette should have resisted his advances, she didn't. In fact, she kissed him just as ferociously as he was kissing her. Again, Bridgette locked her arms around Marcus's neck as Marcus tightened his arms around her waist. He pressed his body against hers as close as he could; there was no space between their upper bodies whatsoever.

  Bridgette let a helpless moan slip past her lips causing Marcus to growl possessively and push her so her back hit the wall once again. She scowled through the kiss and bit down on his bottom lip. Another growl – this one louder - escaped from his throat and he released his hold on her waist only to reach down to grab the back of her thighs, lifting her up off
of the floor.

  Immediately her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and she could feel his hardness through the denim of his jeans. She bit her bottom lip, preventing another whimper to escape, but Marcus's ears were hypersensitive and he could still hear it.

  It was easy to hold her up; he was incredibly strong, and she felt like nothing in his arms. As he led her to the bed, his lips sought her neck and started sucking on the skin, leaving a trail of bruise-colored marks along her neck.

  "If you bite me, I'll shoot you," she said, breathless but firm.

  This actually caused Marcus to chuckle against her skin, but he did not refrain from plundering her flesh with his tongue.

  When they reached the bed, he set her down, and she pulled herself up in order to give him room. Marcus wasted no time when it came to jumping on the bed and towered over her. He pressed his body against hers and reclaimed her lips as his hands trailed down to caress her neck before continuing downward and landing on her breast.

  Bridgette gasped, but her body responded instinctively, her back arching up, wanting more of his caresses.

  She reached up and her fingers took hold of the buttons on Marcus's shirt. It took a few tries but she finally managed to slip his shirt off his broad shoulders and toss it over the side of the bed. Bridgette wasted no time; she reached up so her torso was off the bed and her lips could claim the flesh. Her fingertips gently traced vertical lines up and down his body. Every time he twitched, she reveled in such an action, due to the fact that such a reaction was because of her.