Page 63 of Wrestling With Werewolves

“I know, Alpha,” Connall reprimands gently. “I’ve got it handled. Where do you want me to say you are, if our packmates ask? You haven’t announced taking a mate so I assume this is still a secret? And do you want a heat condom? Have you discussed pups?”

Gods, the politics of this whole thing are a nightmare, and I don’t want to fucking hide Lola. But by the time she and I are through her heat, she’ll be wholly and irrevocably mine. And knocked up, if I don’t do something about that. We haven’t had a conversation about starting a family. We were taking it slow.

I give Connall a wry look. “You have a heat condom lying around?”

He laughs. “I don’t, but I can send one up with the supplies. Consider it done. You’ll have it if you want it. Or not.”

Lola and I can discuss it, but it’d be better to have it handy.

Just then, Leighton’s parents show up at the door with a giant basket overflowing with snacks and electrolyte drinks. Maren beams at me. “Congratulations, Alpha. We couldn’t be any happier for you and Lola.”

I stare open-mouthed at the gift basket, shocked. “How did you know about the heat?”

Maren grins. “Oh, it was pretty obvious to us this morning when you dropped by to visit. I looked at Petr and said, she’ll be in heat within a day or two, so when Connall rushed off, we made a guess.”

I take the basket as shock and gratitude flood through me. This is what it’s supposed to be like when an alpha finds his mate. A shared celebration, adoration, and pack support.

“Thank you,” I murmur, “for everything. Lola and I are so grateful.”

Goddess, there it is, an admission of what Lola and I are to each other. And, fuck, it feels good to say it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER - LOLA

Iwhine and pace inside the treehouse. She’s done her best to console me by muting the big living room glass and waggling the fridge door to remind me there are snacks. She’s even had soft guitar music playing for the last little while. But there’s only one thing that can temper the flames burning me up.

And he’s not here.

My nest is almost perfect. In an ideal world, I’d have the time and space to put up mood lighting and flameless candles and all sorts of things. I don’t know if Richard has any of that at his house, but I’m guessing not, considering he’s been alone for so long. That aside, the nest looks amazing.

Sighing, I pause midpace and turn to stare at the sofa. I placed the pillows all around the edge and front to enclose the space. Blankets encircle it to make it smooth and soft, and even though they’re mismatched, it feels right to me. I tucked Richard’s shirts in each corner between the pillows and the couch, so the whole thing smells like my alpha.

Except his tee from yesterday. I’m holding that one. I bring it to my nose and inhale. In my mind, my wolf groans and rolls onto her side, panting heavily. She’s as ready for him as I am.

A chill races down my spine when I think about Richard biting me during my heat. It’s inevitable—he will. I know he will, and what’s more, I want him to, with a desperation I never thought possible. My soul is calling to his, and they’ll never be complete until we permanently meld them together with a claiming bite.

Then I’ll hear them both in my mind. I long for the ability to talk to Big Daddy. I always assumed that one day, when the timing was right, I’d mate some nice wolf and settle down and be pretty happy. But I never imagined I’d get to talk to their wolf.

Thank you, goddess Alaya, patron saint of wolves, I pray. Thank you for this.

I never could have imagined it would happen when the timing was utterly wrong, or that he’d be my father’s best friend. Or that his wolf would be so damn powerful, he could speak to it. Gods, I wonder if Big Daddy speaks Spanish. I mean, I assume so. But I can’t wait to hear him for myself.

Just the thought of him commanding me in Spanish has me dripping all over the floor. My clothes are stuck to me, my body coated in sweat as the heat builds and builds. When my knees go weak and buckle, I flop into the nest and roll to the middle, staring at the gorgeous wood beam ceiling.

No sooner do I think about how pretty this treehouse is than the thought dissipates, and all my other rational thoughts go with it. I haven’t had a heat in a while, but I don’t remember the delirium hitting quite this hard. The tiny logical bit left in my brain, the only small part that’s not wrapped up in the heat hormones, prays Richard will return soon.

I don’t know how much later it is that the front door swings open. Shooting upright, I surge onto my hands and knees and crawl to the edge of the nest. Richard comes through the door with bags of groceries and a…gift basket?

Flaring my nostrils, I focus on my alpha’s scent, growling when he speeds across the room and drops the supplies on the kitchen countertop. I watch as he quickly unpacks them, setting out rows of shit I no longer care about. All I can do is stare at the hard cock outlined in his jeans. Even his knot is swollen and visible.

My mouth waters looking at it.

Richard pauses, glancing over at me. “Sweetheart, I’ll be there in two minutes, I promise. Connall rounded up supplies, and I need to put them away.” He gives me a wicked look. “Why don’t you undress, lie down and show me how wet and ready that sweet pussy is for me?”

Groaning, I fall to my back and rip my clothes off. Spreading my knees wide, I reach a hand down to rub soft circles over my clit. I nearly come, stars dancing behind my eyelids as slick floods from me like a river. Even that feels good.

Responding growls from across the room push my pleasure higher until I do come, choking back a scream as I clench on nothing at all, bliss exploding out from my core. My entire body shakes with the force of the tremors, jerking until the orgasm wrings me out and fades.

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