Page 92 of Fated to the Feral Wolf

But still, I wasn’t ready for the intense wave of pleasure that burst through me when she sank her fangs into my left pectoral muscle, right above my heart. Euphoria wasn’t a strong enough word for it as the bond snapped into place all at once. I grunted as I came, one hand tangled in her hair, keeping her mouth against my skin, the other on her hips, driving her down harder as I thrust up into her, over and over as we both climaxed, and she squeezed every drop of cum out of me.

When she finally pulled back, swiping her tongue over my chest, sealing her mark over my heart, I was a man replete with love, destroyed by the force of nature that was my mate. She slid off me to curl up at my side with a satisfied sigh as I stroked her soft curls.

She was mine, and I was hers. Forever.

Forever,she agreed, stroking a hand lovingly over my jaw as I wrapped myself around her. The music she’d composed for me, for us, had fallen to a soft hush, the twinkling piano notes a perfect accompaniment to this moment.

I held her to me like the most precious woman in the world.

Because she was, and I was never letting her go.

Forever.

It was a promise, and a benediction.

It was ours.

Epilogue – Leigh

Three days later

I stared down at the single word, taunting me, destroying me.

Pregnant.

It was insulting, the way it stared up at me in defiance from the pee stick like some sort of smug proclamation.

You’re up the duff, lady, and you were too stupid to see all the signs.

No, not stupid. Somewhere, deep down, I suspected. Denial? She was the queen bitch of this fucked-up scenario.

How in the actual fuck had I, a single, unmated she-wolf, managed to get pregnant? Pregnancy was rare, even among fully bonded, committed shifter couples who rode out week-long heats together, barely coming up for air.

And yet here I was, apparently too fertile for my own good.

I wanted to blame Brielle, her stupid-potent omeganess clearly playing a hand in this. But I couldn’t when I knewexactlyhow this had happened. Shit, I could pinpoint it, the moment clear as a bell ringing in my memory.

I could be twelve hundred years old, a decrepit crone of awolf, and that memory would still send a shot of lust through me.

The sight of Gael, hovering over me, hands on either side of my head, cords straining in his neck as he worked his hips, grinding into me, and then?—

I shook my head, forcing myself to let that memory die a slow, painful death. Let’s not talk about the fact that I was slick with arousal just from the memory, okay? That was embarrassing andso not happening ever again.

But, damn. I was pregnant. It was too big, too much, too… everything. Overwhelming. But even as my mind spun with the absolute shitshow that was the drama this would cause, a tiny spark of joy burned in my chest.

I was having a baby. A tiny, perfect child to love and raise and spend the rest of my life with. It was nothing that I expected, and yet… I didn’t regret it either. I could never regret her.

Herfelt right. Granted, I’d probably have to wait a really long time to find out for sure, but something inside me was convinced it was a girl. My little perfect flower. No, she was too tiny to be a flower.Petal.

I could already see a little blonde mini-me, but with Gael’s whiskey eyes, running and giggling, a crown of flowers on her head as I chased her through the sunshine. A bloom of protective instincts nearly overwhelmed me, and I rubbed the heel of my hand over my sternum, the intense need toprotectthis little miracle almost taking me to my knees. My brain was spinning, trying to process, trying to figure out a plan.

The world was dangerous, but I wasn’t without resources, without friends.

But protecting her meant two things.

One, I had to tell Brielle, immediately. She was an omega, with fertility gifts. She could make sure my baby girl came safely into this world, and that was priceless beyond words. Ibarely knew my little Petal, but I knew I would give my life for hers.

Two, I was absolutely not sharing this news with Gael, at least not yet. He was too volatile, too hotheaded. Everyone thought he was so composed, but from where I was sitting, he might as well have been a stick of dynamite, and I was carrying news that was nothing less than incendiary.

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