Page 79 of Wrestling With Werewolves

Her pussy lips glisten with slick.

“Just being around you has me in a damn constant state of need,” she says playfully.

Big Daddy and Lola’s wolf slink off into the darkness together, receding from the forefront of our thoughts.

I can’t find words as I slip my tongue between her thighs and lick a soft, flat path over her clit.

Her answering jolt stokes my lust sky-high as I grip her ass cheeks and hold her to me. When I growl, she steps her legs out wide enough to give me better access. Snarling, I go wild, sucking and licking and biting as her cries ring louder and louder, surrounding us until it sounds like the whole of Santa Alaya will hear her pleasure.

When she comes with a choked scream, curling over my head and ripping my hair out by the roots, I groan and spurt into my pants. Goddess, I need to knot her before I die of lust.

Sensing my thoughts, she laughs. “I suspect this is the first of many times duty is going to get in the way of us making love. I’m sorry about that, but I promise we’ll figure it out.”

I rise from my spot at her feet and cover her mouth with mine, silencing her train of thought. Of course we’ll figure it out. Together. Her people need her, and I’m determined to ensure that she gets what she wants out of life too. However I need to make that happen, I’ll do it for her.

Our tongues tangle as she opens for me, hopping into my arms. We kiss under the fading evening light. We kiss for a long time before I’m willing to let her return to her duties. It feels like hours that we kiss under Santa Alaya’s beautiful moon. But eventually, it’s time to return to the castle.

Hours later, I’ve had my fill of politics. I don’t know what our future state looks like—a lot has changed tonight, and she and I didn’t get a chance to discuss any of it before it happened. That can’t be helped, but I swear to the goddess, if one more wolf comes up to?—

“Mi reina, congratulations on your ascension! My name is?—”

Fuck. Yet another wolf now stands in front of Lola. This one is older, and he must see the look on my face because he stops mid sentence. “Ah. You know what? I’ll come back another time. It’s been a long night.”

Lola shifts forward off the throne and lays a hand on the elderly male’s forearm. “I would love that. Please do come back. It’s been quite the evening, but that doesn’t make our meeting any less important.”

He smiles thoughtfully and nods, disappearing into the crowd. But even the crowd is beginning to dissipate now. Couples and throuples leave in droves, emptying the once full ballroom.

Dirk is nowhere to be seen. Marco hasn’t emerged from his office.

Lola grabs my hand. “Come, mate.”

I let her lead me through familiar halls to her room, but by the time she enters the door, I’m hard and aching. Our wolves are with her; my mind is quiet save for a seething, dark need to take my queen.

When we enter her room, I don’t expect the blast of pink and turquoise coloring every inch of the place. But I laugh—she must have done this after I left Santa Alaya. As a pup her room was a neutral palette.

Lola slaps me playfully on the stomach. “I can hear you, you know. Don’t laugh. It’s still beautiful.” She strokes the door frame as she smiles at the ceiling. “My perfect room, right?”

The pink-washed ceiling beams creak, the chandelier in the middle of the room swaying softly.

I take a moment to walk around the space and get insight into the woman who captured me so completely in such a short time. The corner boasts a mini concert stage with photos from what appear to be a dozen or more different concerts over the years. Lola’s only in one or two of them.

I point to the collection of photos on the wall. “Are these all concerts you missed?”

She nods softly, sorrow filling our bond.

Gripping her throat, I press her to the wall against the pictures, hovering my mouth above hers. “No matter what happens, I will never let you give up this dream, do you understand?”

Lola laughs, the throaty sound seeming to echo in the high-ceilinged room. One beautifully dark brow slants upward. “Is that a command?”

I brush my lips over hers. “Command. Demand. Request. Plea. Promise. It’s all of that, Luna. We will find a way to manage this, alright? Somehow, we’ll take care of Santa Alaya and Ever and your dreams.”

Her smile grows softer, but she nods. “I used to be scared of ruling like Papá does, scared of the wrong turn or the wrong connection or the wrong alliance. But I suspect you and I will do things a little differently. And we’ll still have his guidance, of course.”

I growl at that. I’d like to say we don’t need it, but the reality is that I plan to push a shitload of responsibility onto Marco’s shoulders so Lola gets the chance to travel. He was always a genius regarding alliances and contracts and the more technical things related to ruling Santa Alaya. He always liked that part of it best, I think.

Lola is going to be a queen of the people; I can feel it. She’s not going to spend all of her time in boardrooms discussing trade. She’s going to be down among her packmates helping, visiting, supporting. I know it.

“There’s one thing I want to do before we leave,” I murmur, sliding my hand down her exposed chest to the gauzy belt that holds her dress together.

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