Page 45 of What a Wolf Demands

Pain shone in her eyes and in the faint blue vein that ran down her forehead. The hair at her temples was dark with sweat. As they stared at each other, she let out a low, anguished moan and rolled her hips. Another blast of arousal reached him.

Somehow, he found his voice. “This has happened before?”

“Yes.” Her mouth trembled. “The urges. Th-They started about six months ago.” Her hips jerked. “Oh god.” She fisted her hands at her sides. The tendons in her neck stretched taut, like she was struggling against a heavy weight. She sucked in a breath, then let it out in a series of gasping pants. “Never . . . this . . . bad . . . though.”

His cock pounded in sync with his heartbeat. Urges. A light bulb went off in his mind.

“Could you be going through transition?” Every wolf experienced a period of intense sexual need around the time of their first Turn. The instinct to rut could be overwhelming—even painful. She was well past the time when most wolves made the Turn, but maybe . . .

She shook her head, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “N-No. It started the same time I began”—she took a gulping breath—“losing control of my anger.”

His wolf surged to the surface. PROTECT.

Dom stared at Lily even as helplessness crashed over him. There was another reason werewolves could experience uncontrollable lust.

When they started to go feral.

And she’d killed a man . . .

The wolf snarled, like it wanted his attention. PROTECT.

Dom snarled back in his mind. “I heard you the first time.”

As if she couldn’t hold back any longer, Lily brought her hands to her breasts and stroked her palms over her nipples. “Ooh,” she cried, frustration stamped all over her features. She flung her hands back to her sides. More tears spilled from her eyes and darted twin paths into her hair. “That only made it worse!”

The helpless feeling sank into him with wicked jaws. It was a beast, that helplessness. He’d thought he was safe from it now. But there it was, standing over him with a dark, open mouth. Ready to swallow him whole. The past and present converged. He’d knelt like this before, had felt the beast’s breath hot on his neck.

It had taken him then.

And it had been a sort of madness.

What can I do?

“T-Touch,” Lily said, her voice a thread of sound.

He looked at her. It took him a second to realize he’d spoken aloud.

And she’d answered.

“Touch me,” she said, her eyes pleading. Her hips jerked, and she whimpered. “Please.”

His own breaths were pants. Between his legs, his cock was like iron.

Get up. Get up right now and leave.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he opened his mouth and spoke, his voice hoarse. “Where?”

With a shuddering sob, she let her thighs fall wide.

The thick, heady scent of her arousal filled his lungs. His gaze landed on her sex. Pink lips parted, revealing her opening. Moisture pooled there, the pearly cream catching the room’s soft light. More cream coated her lips and mound, darkening her intimate curls to a deep, alluring red. Her clit poked from her folds, the little nub swollen and shiny. Begging for attention.

A ragged sound filled the air. Abruptly, he realized it was him. His breaths sawed in and out of his chest, and his hands were tight fists on his thighs.

Get up. He should get up. End this right now. But even a monk couldn’t resist the bounty spread before him or the heady scent teasing his nose. Lily was like a feast, her pale body open and slick, her nipples and sex pink and swollen.

He stared at her wet entrance, then lifted his gaze to her face . . . her mouth. She licked her lips, making them as pink and wet as the plump folds between her legs.

“Show me where,” he heard himself say. “Show me where to touch you.”

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