Page 3 of Cursed Wolf

“Don’t hold back,” Ragnar moans against my mouth. “Let go. Release the pain.”

There’s no pause as I buzz from the orgasm running through me. They work me as I completely fall apart, shattered. They continue ramming into me. My heart pounds, and my screams are stolen by Ragnar’s kisses.

Crius is in my ear as his fingers dig into my hips. “You’re so incredible. Your body is Nirvana to me.”

Their animalistic sounds only drive me crazier as I float on arousal, my clit thumping, my nerves wired. I don’t know how long we remain locked that way, but when I finally open my eyes and my men withdraw from me, I breathe easier.

Gone is the tightness constricting me, the pain, along with the hunger that made me an utter mess at the mercy of lust, but something feels different from the other times we’d enjoyed sex.

“Why didn’t you both cum?” I ask suddenly.

“You have no idea what I’d do to explode in your sweet cunt.” Ragnar cups the sides of my face. “But we don’t have the liberty of knotting in you now. That will come later.”

Crius holds me against his chest as Ragnar grabs up his shirt off the ground, dusting it free of leaves.

“So, my heat is gone for now, right?” I ask, desperation clinging to my voice.

“That’s hard to tell,” Crius explains, his arms around me possessively. “Once an omega’s heat is triggered, she will randomly have episodes, building more intensely. Anything could trigger it. Gorgeous girl, did your mother never tell you about going into heat?”

The past was a painful wound that felt permanently open and hurting. I grew up with a mother who cared for us, kept us protected, and told us nothing about the real world. Nothing about how to fight for survival. I like to think her decisions had everything to do with having a genuine concern for us, but after discovering she wasn’t dead after all this time and resurrecting our father to keep him as a zombie puppet, I’m not sure what to believe anymore.

Crius watches me, waiting for my response.

I half-laugh and make a strangling sound at his question.

“My mother always said I wouldn’t have to worry about going into heat because I wasn’t a full wolf. What I learned was from hearing others talking about it in the pack, which was limited to the female being locked up with her fated mate, sometimes for weeks.”

For a long time, I didn’t understand what they were doing behind closed doors. I was young and naive until one of the women died. During her heat, I discovered she didn’t have a fated mate, and something was broken in her. So, a few of the men took turns rutting her daily, and in the end, she died because of how rough they were with her. It terrified me, and for a long time, I thanked the moon goddess that I wouldn’t have to endure it.

Now, look at me—drowning in heat and feeling completely lost.

Crius’ tender touch on my arm lifts me out of my mood.

“It’s okay, we can help,” he whispers.

“I-I don’t think this is true heat. The high priestess, Lyra, cast a spell on me just before you arrived.” I practically spit out her name as if it was dirt in my mouth. I hate her so much. “The bitch forced me into heat.”

Anger flares through me at how bad our predicament has become. I give the two men a fast rundown of what happened—how I’d found my sister Kaira by the river, how the witch had possessed her from the time we left the witch’s coven. Then there was Lyssa. The witch had killed the pack alpha’s daughter.

Dread hitches all the way down to my lungs. I stare deeper into the woods, where Lyssa’s dead body had been strung to the tree. I can’t see her from our location, but I know she’s there, and the hairs on my arms lift. I try my hardest not to picture her. She’d been sliced open and left to die there.

My heart thunders with fear because her father will no doubt blame us… the newcomers to his pack home.

“Put this on,” Ragnar says, his expression as grim as I feel. With their help, I tug his shirt over my head and down my body. It falls to my knees, and I’m swimming in it, but I’m not naked. Ragnar tore my tee, and my pants were soaked from my heat. In truth, my body still hums as if the arousal doesn’t want to let go of me.

To distract myself, I talk about what I learned from the high priestess.

“She’s after my mother, even in her dead form, not my sisters and me. Lyra is headed to her house in the mountains.” The longer I talk and recall Lyra attacking me, the more I shake with fury.

The men just stare at me, their faces blanching.

“What the fuck is she going to do with a dead body?” Crius blurts. “And no insult to you, Narah, but your mother’s house gives me the creeps.”

I don’t know what to say since I’ve yet to visit my late mother’s home, but his words leave me covered in shivers.

“There’s more,” I continue, despite having so many of my questions left unanswered. “Lyra said my enemy wolves are coming for this pack to kill us. She was talking about Martell,” I manage. His name is like acid on my tongue, and I hate the sting of trepidation he stirs in me.

“Sonofabitch,” Ragnar snarls under his breath, combing a hand through his hair.

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