Page 15 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

I screw my eyes shut and become a man. Instantly, I recognize that my body is different. I’m bigger, swollen with muscle all over. Even my cock is thicker.

I feel like I’ve stepped out of a lake. That kind of unfamiliar heaviness. I shake out my arms and draw down a deep breath.

There’s no need to freak out. I’m fine. It’s normal. Mated males fill out. Max said he gained twenty pounds of muscle and an inch in girth overnight when he caught Elspeth.

I step forward and trip on a clump of leaves. Annie cries out.

Shit. My feet are bigger, too.

I steady myself on her shoulder. She cowers, ducking away, her neck bent so far that her chin is tucked to her chest. My wolf rumbles in my chest to reassure her, but instead of consoling her, it freaks her out even more. She wraps her arms tightly around herself and whimpers.

“It won’t hurt much,” I tell her, my wolf raspy in my throat. I pray that’s true. If she cries in pain, I’ll puke. I can hardly bear the scent of her fear with my human nose. My wolf doesn’t like it, but he also kind of takes her fear as his due. He’s huge, and he’s got really sharp fangs. Fear is a natural response from a smaller wolf.

But my mate shouldn’t be afraid aroundme. I’m not weak. I can protect her. And she must know I don’t want to hurt her. “Don’t cry, okay?” I say.

She moans louder.

“I’ll be quick.” It’s the best I can promise, but again, it doesn’t soothe her. She rocks, curling her shoulders forward as if to protect herself.

I don’t know what to do. I crouch, my cock pointing due north like a flagpole. I still tower over her, but I can’t make myself smaller, not in any way that’d make a difference.

I show her my throat, angling my gaze toward her knees. They’re pretty. I don’t know why. They’re smooth and round, but really no different than most female’s knees. But still. I like the look of them.

We sit in silence for a long time while the sun fades and the breeze grows brisker, picking off leaves from the top of the pile and flicking them along the ground. Every so often, I sneak a glance at her face. She’s lovely, but she’s also bright red. Like a beefsteak tomato. Her eyes are vague and wild, like she’s eaten full moon mushrooms.

Finally, her breathing speeds and shallows, and the pitch of her whine changes, dropping deeper with more of her wolf coming through. Her rocking becomes less frantic, more intentional. She grinds her pussy against her heel.

“Let me make you feel better,” I say, careful to keep my voice calm and even. My wolf is smart enough to keep his trap shut. The last thing either of us wants is to frighten her now.

She groans, and finally—finally—she reaches for me. She falls forward, her small hands landing on my chest. She doesn’t weigh much, average for a female, I guess, but nothing a male my size can’t handle. I press her hand to my heart. It’s warm. And perfect.

She whimpers and blood rushes to my cock.

“Please,” she whines.

I help her turn and settle herself on her forearms, and without me saying anything, she lifts her ass into the air and sidles her knees apart.

Fuck.

I can see everything now.

Her pussy is watermelon pink, and the inner flaps are kind of frilled like a tulip bud. Her slick is the dew. Her little clit is popped from its hood, swollen and shiny. It evenlooksneedy.

She works her knees further apart and arches her back, moaning low in her throat, urging me on. I shuffle forward on my knees.

Her hole is really small, and when I spread her lips with my fingers, I see it’s not fully open. It’s kind of divided by a thin strip of skin. That’s got to be her maidenhead. Why the hell do they call it a head? It’s more like a seal.

What am I going to do with it?

I stroke her ass and rumble while I consider my next move. I don’t want her to feel neglected or worried that I don’t know what to do. Neither Lelia nor Diantha were virgins when they invited me to bed down with them. What do I know about maidenheads? They’ve got a dumb name. That’s it.

If it were me, I’d want it gone quickly. Rip the bandage right off. But I’m male, and I’m not skittish like Annie. Whatever I do, I better give her fair warning.

She raises her hips and rocks into my hand, growling her impatience. Yeah. Her heat is on her. She’s ready.

I trail my fingers along her folds. I don’t need to spread her slick around. She’s already soaked. I slip my index finger into her hole and watch as the strip of flesh stretches to accommodate me. She snarls and bucks, trying to fuck herself with my finger. She likes it. Good, good.

My heart thuds in my chest. I’m fucking terrified. I can’t afford to hurt her too much. Not when she doesn’t know yet that I can care for her. She could decide she only wants me for heat, and that’d kill me.

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