The Walls of Jericho

Conflicts

I wake at first light with the delicious telltale soreness of a woman who’s been well and truly laid.

A lot.

Given the effort Channing put into it last night, I won’t be the only one sore today either. For a moment, I ponder what he said about the werewolf transformation boosting s*x drive, among other things.

Obviously, it doesn’t happen often, but last night we wound up in another mate tie too, though, start to finish, this one was a significant improvement over the last. For some reason, knowing it happened again, after he’d changed me to full wolf, it reassures me.

What happened with Drake Kemp won’t ever happen again.

Now, I don’t just carry the genes of a werewolf, I am one. A mated one, and wolves mate for life. I sigh quietly and let the guilt wash through me. I let myself be seduced by the dragon. In my ignorance, I believed a ‘dragon-compatible bloodline’ was still werewolf, but it’s not. It’s a blend of both. Susceptible to both. Attracted to both. Which, thankfully, makes the question of Alpha werewolf or Last dragon a choice.

I’ve had a taste of both. Neither one is lacking in any capacity.

But, I’ve chosen.

Beside me, Channing’s still asleep on his belly. One strong arm pins my waist and as if that wasn’t enough, his heavy head rests on top of my splayed hair on the pillow, trapping me where his every breath is saturated in the scent of me. His adoration is kind of cute.

He murmurs in his sleep when I grasp my hair at my scalp in small chunks and slowly pull it out from under him until I’m one-half free. The trick will be getting out from under his arm. Generally, I’m less successful at that, and today is no different.

I’ve learned the hard way, if I try to slide his arm either up or down off my body, as soon as he encounters my breasts or my thighs, even unconscious, he knows he’s hit paydirt. Then he’s awake, then his drive kicks in, then we’re stuck in bed another couple of wholly enjoyable but otherwise unproductive hours while he erases everything else from my head but him and what he can do to my body using that gorgeous package of hard muscle and drive that's his.

When I’ve managed to push his arm back enough that I can squirm my way out the opposite side, I try. Only I get over-eager, and his instinct kicks in. Lightning fast, he’s wrapped his gigantic paw around my hip and pulled me up against him possessively with a sleep-befuddled growl.

Tactical error. Crap.

Resorting to my back-up plan of escape, I stroke his forearm gently, soothing in a soft voice. “It’s okay. Let me up, Channing. I just have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

It takes another fifteen minutes or so before he’s relaxed deeply enough into sleep that I can make a successful escape. Thank God I didn't actually have to go badly. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror in my closet and nearly burst out laughing. That urge lasts until I get to the bathroom and attempt to run a comb through my birds nest hair.

Successfully combing it out is both painful and time-consuming, so by the time I get downstairs to start my coffee, I’m beyond annoyed. Mercifully, not even Mr. Adriani is awake yet, so I get a full infusion of rich, brain-stimulating wake-up juice while I check my email and nothing else but the stupidly chirping birds is around to bother me.

The contract from Bridget isn’t the kind of job I’ve gotten my degree in, it’s not directly affiliated with KDS’ Heritage project and frankly, the pay is offensive even for me as an entry-level employee.

But it is ‘in’ to the company, which I still need, because even though I’ve obviously found the dragon, I still need to find the oracle to settle this business between Drake and Avernus so that I can have a normal life.

Or as much of a normal life as a body-jumping magic-wielding werewolf gets.

Leaning back in my chair, I sip my second cup of coffee and consider. I still have the interview scheduled with Jacob Chapman from KDS today, and I’m more confident in my ability to pitch myself for the job in his group successfully now that I’ve done it once with Bridget. 

The job in her group offers distinct benefits though. It does provide access to the KDS virtual private network which indirectly gives me the access to Heritage that I want. And it’s almost fully remote, so I can potentially be sitting right beside Channing and working and he’d never know. Plus, I’m not working because I need the pay.

You don’t get anything if you don’t ask, so I reply to Martha from KDS’ human resources department who sent the contract on Bridget’s behalf. I request that the position be allowed as fully remote. I include the mention that I’m exceptionally excited by the opportunity—which is a total lie because I’m not—even though the pay undervalues the skills I bring to the group. I also mention that I have another interview with Jacob Chapman this afternoon.

It’s as I’m working on the final draft of my dissertation that I hear Mr. Adriani stirring. He and Babo peek in at me a minute or so later. They’re both wearing paper sweatbands on their heads and wrists and I wonder if this means we’re back on the Richard Simmons kick.

“Are you better, Liza?”

“Not all the way.” I smile and the look of concern on his face diminishes. “But a little better, yes.”

“Good. Can we have pancakes for breakfast?”

“Sure, I can handle that. Do you want fruit topping?”

He tips his head to one side, considering. “No. With sausage.”

“Okay.”

“And sauerkraut.”

I stare at him in silence. It’s no weirder than anything else he talks about or asks me for, but I have to wonder sometimes what’s actually happening in his head.

“Not for breakfast.” I hear Channing’s ice cream smooth tenor and it sends a thrill through me. Mr. Adriani pivots in the doorway to look at him. “We’ll get something for lunch with sauerkraut. Okay?”

“Okay.” He flashes us a wrinkly grin then darts off towards the cinema room, his bare feet slap-slapping on the floor.

Barefoot and bare-chested, Channing prowls into the room with a distinct swagger in his step and the white-blue whorls in his eyes already started as he makes his way to me. He gives off the low, seductive heat of a predator with his powerful, svelte build and the intense way he fixates on me and my core throbs as he spins my chair to face him. He cages me with his arms on the chair arms, then kisses me with a gentleness that belies the look he gave me as he entered the room. “Good morning, babydoll. What am I fixing for breakfast?”

“I thought you heard.”

He shakes his bed-tousled head and takes a sip from my coffee, then frowns. He doesn’t like his so sweet. “No, I only heard him say ‘sauerkraut’ and figured this time of day, the only answer for that is ‘no’. There’s a great little sandwich shop not far from here that makes an incredible Polish sausage sandwich with kraut that we can get for him.”

I know exactly which sandwich shop he’s talking about, and don’t care to go there. Rising, I take my coffee cup from him and drain it, then head towards the kitchen with him following. “I’d rather have spaetzle. Wasn’t there a restaurant specializing in German cuisine over by the diamond district?”

His brows shoot up as he parks himself against the kitchen counter, watching as I fix a cup of coffee for him. “The diamond district? Have I been so neglectful that I have to buy my forgiveness?”

Forgiveness. I guilty pang shoots through me and the lip of the coffee pot rattles against his mug. “No. You don’t. What I want is your time. Your undivided attention.” I hand him his mug, then fix another cup for myself.

Channing flashes me one of those megawatt smiles of his that make my knees turn melty. “Deal. What am I fixing for breakfast? Then once I’m done, we’ll get cleaned up and take the motorcycle out. How’s that sound?”

The thought of being pressed up against him on that beautiful machine gets my heart pounding. “Pancakes and sausage. And sounds good.”

He frowns. “I need to make travel arrangements again first.” Padding to the refrigerator, he hauls out milk, eggs and a package of link sausage, setting them all on the kitchen counter. “Otherwise, we’ll wind up on a red-eye flight and those are right up there next to crappy. You can work on your paper while I’m at it. We can pick up something for lunch at the German place you were thinking of and bring it home after.”

**

For the sake of expediency, I opt to shower while Channing fixes breakfast and sneak upstairs while he’s distracted in the kitchen. Much as he makes a really convincing pitch for sharing the shower being water-wise and a timesaver, it’s just not. I mean, seriously, I’m female, and he’s an absolutely beautiful naked specimen. Then you get him wet, and the whole thing degenerates from there into something really steamy that has nothing to do with the hot water or efficiency.

As I’m emerging from the bathroom still wrapped in my towel that Rebecca walks into the room without knocking, long before her typical rising time, bleary-eyed and looking crabbier than I do before I’ve had coffee. She extends her hand with a small box. “The directions are inside.”

No sooner do I take it from her than she turns, staggering out and back to the crypt from whence she emerged. I glance at the box in my hand and slump to the bed.

It’s the emergency contraceptive she told me she’d get for me yesterday.

I stare at the box, at a complete loss to know what to do.

If I’d had this in hand yesterday before Channing woke and found me in the pool, I’d have taken it without a second thought. But after all that talk last night about having kids and leaving Avernus, and the massive amount of s*x we had, if I take it now—.

Breakfast is ready.>

I don’t have time to deliberate with myself about what to do. Darting into the closet, I stuff the box behind a stack of neatly folded sweaters to deal with later. Then I hurry into a pair of jeans and a tank top. I grab my Converse and rush downstairs.

Channing was expecting I was working on my paper in the office, so as I reach the bottom of the stairs, that’s where he’s coming from. “You showered. Without me.”

“I’m completely unrepentant.” Hopping, I pull on my Converse sneakers and meet him at the kitchen. “Besides. There wasn’t enough time for me to accomplish much on my paper anyway.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his chin. “Let’s eat so we can get out of here.”

**

It takes no time at all to clean up the kitchen while Channing showers. We meet in the office to work, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa with our laptops, me with my feet in his lap checking my email and him searching flights, hotel and car arrangements for the trip next week.

Much to my surprise, my counter-offer to Bridget was accepted. Specifically, she agreed that the position could operate as fully remote, which is my big win, but she also countered with a salary increase, so I accept the position, with a start date in two weeks.

It’s as I’m writing my apology and thank you email to Jacob Chapman and explaining that I’ve already accepted a position with KDS that Rebecca makes her second grand appearance of the morning.

She doesn’t look quite so scary as she did an hour and a half ago, but she’s still nothing I would tangle with.

The same can’t be said for Channing.

“Hey, Rebecca. I’m going to need you to look after Mr. Adriani next week.” He closes his laptop, then taps my ankle with one hand. When I lift my feet he gets up.

She pivots slowly and fixes him with that ice-cold stare. “I don’t babysit,” she says flatly, then jerks her chin my direction. “She’s bad enough.”

His eyes flare angrily. “That’s your Luna. Show some respect. And she’s the only reason you’re not still stuck underground, so I’d recommend you behave a bit more gratefully.”

“Fine,” she sneers. “I’m not qualified to babysit that nutjob. Get Ferdi or one of your other flunkies to do it.”

“Your brother isn’t a ‘flunkie’ and he’s going to Ireland next week too. Don’t you dare turn your back on me when I’m talking to you, Rebecca.”

“You’re not talking,” she retorts, walking into the kitchen and reaching for a coffee mug. “You’re bullying. I said I won’t watch him. That’s not what the arrangement was. That’s not what I agreed to.”

“Channing—.”

He lifts a hand, cutting me off, then leans in the door frame of the office, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring daggers into Rebecca’s back. “I’m very clear on the terms of the arrangement. It was for you to help Jericho. By my evaluation, you’re not getting the job done.”

She slams the mug down on the granite counter. “By your evaluation? You’re never even here anymore. What would you know about it?”

“I have eyes. Jericho’s still doing everything she was before we moved here—cooking, cleaning, looking after Mr. Adriani—and now she’s got you as a pet to take care of too.”

“I’m here to make a passable rich little playtoy wife out of her, just like you told me. It’s not my fault if she wants to look like a housekeeper,” she snaps. “I’m not taking care of that crazy old man. Use your Alpha position to hire a caregiver.”

“Consider yourself hired.”

“Don’t even try it, Channing. Alpha or not, you aren’t going to bully me into this. I’m not your slave.”

“You know what? You’re right. You’re not my slave. You’re the woman who tried to usurp my authority as Alpha of Avernus and start a civil war within the ranks,” he bites back. “You shouldn’t be taking care of a harmless old man who needs someone to cook and make sure he doesn’t get hurt. You should be in a cell in the lowest dregs of Avernus.”