Page 34 of Craved By a Wolf

Kin dumped his wet jeans, found a pair of black trunks in his bedroom and tugged them on, and then went to his small kitchen at the front of the house. He grabbed a glass and the whisky, and poured until the amber liquid was close to the brim. He downed that one, savouring the burn and how it rid his mouth of the foul taste of the potion Hella had given him, and poured a second, smaller glass. He carried that one and the bottle with him to his favourite armchair, a dark grey wingback that had seen better days, the material patchy and worn in places. It was comfortable though.

Bliss as he sank into it and leaned back to stare at the fire. He stretched his legs out towards it, warming his bare feet, and sipped the whisky.

Doing his damnedest not to think about Hella.

His eyelids grew heavy as he watched the flames dancing, as his body slowly warmed and the whisky did its job, taking the edge off his mood.

He poured another glass and his body warmed for another reason as Hella danced into his head. Beautiful. Bewitching. Images from his dream came to him and blurred with memories of her. Her gaze had been dark with need when he had come around from that dream to find her standing over him. It had flickered with interest when it had landed on his aching shaft.

And for a moment, he swore she had been tempted by his offer to bed her.

Kin palmed his length, unsurprised to find it as hard as steel. He wasn’t satisfied. The dream had been great, but he needed release. He was still primed for a female, his thoughts constantly conjuring wicked images to keep his passion at a steady boil.

He stroked himself as he watched the fire, restless with need, aching to sink himself into the wet heat of a willing female and spend himself. On a low growl, he pushed to his feet and stalked across the house to his wet clothes. He grabbed his jeans, his actions rough as hunger rolled through him, and checked both pockets.

It was gone.

The token was gone.

He tossed his jeans away from him and paced, his cock bobbing with each step, the way it brushed his trunks sheer agony. He palmed it again. Even if he hadn’t lost his token, he still would have needed to reach the nearest portal to make the teleport to Geneva. And then what? Hella didn’t want him. She might have looked hungry when she had been watching him, but by her own admission she was a horny little thing and took many males to her bed.

Gods. He scrubbed a hand down his face. Was she out there now, seeking a male to satisfy her? He turned on a vicious growl, swept his arm down to his right and caught the edge of the small wooden coffee table. He followed through with the motion, sending it flying across the room to crash into the wall near the door.

Why didn’t she want him?

He looked himself over, not seeing anything that would turn her off. He was a strong male, a perfect physical specimen, and plenty of females hurled themselves at him, wanting to share a night in his bed.

But not the witch.

She had teleported him away from her to stop him from making advances, ridding herself of him.

Because he had let his instincts and upbringing get the better of him from time to time? Whenever he had heard wolves talk of how the mating instincts hijacked control, he had thought them weak, males who had lacked the willpower to keep those instincts in check.

How wrong he had been.

Several times he had slipped up and tried to coerce Hella into a union with him. Every time she had spurned him and rage had flashed in her eyes.

Kin poured another glass and drank it down. It didn’t help matters. He stared at his tented trunks, aware it wasn’t going away on its own. He needed a female. His head swivelled towards the window above his kitchen counter. Any female would do. He needed to be logical about this. He was cursed. A witch had told him Hella was his mate. It was a lie. The witch was using him to get to Hella, wanted to hurt her for some reason. Hella was nothing to him. She was beautiful, sure, but she wasn’t his fated one.

He kept telling himself that as he grabbed the coffee table and set it back down near his armchair, and placed his empty glass down on it. He had gone too long without bedding a female and Hella’s beauty had fired him up, not the fact she was his mate. Her sinful curves and beguiling eyes, and the way she had kissed him had ignited this lust in him.

And it was just lust.

Which meant any female could satisfy it for him.

Kin strode to the door, opened it, and peered out into the fading evening.

Magda, a pretty brunette who had been more than happy to share his bed whenever they had both gotten too lonely in the past, paused as she neared her door and glanced his way.

He crooked his finger at her and went back inside, leaving the door open.

And wasn’t surprised to find her standing in it as he turned to sit on his armchair.

She closed the door behind her, her cheeks flushed and eyes already gold with interest.

Kin poured another glass of whisky and stared at her. “Strip.”

She hurried to unfasten her deep green dress, the sound of the zipper lowering rousing anticipation in his veins and sending more blood rushing south. He purged the witch from his mind when she tried to invade it and focused on Magda’s lush curves as she revealed them to him, slowly lowering the dress. Her bare breasts were large, more than a handful.

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