Page 12 of Wolf

My breath wooshes out of me in a choke before I gasp at the burn. I’m subjected to a round of laughter from my peers, but I pay them no mind.

Holy crap. My lungs are burning.

After a while, my brain starts to dance. My limbs get all noodly and with a giggle, I twirl around before bumping into a wall behind me.

The wall grabs my arms, and I slide my gaze up a hard chest, strong chin, and pretty lips formed in a frown before meeting Wolf’s gaze.

And then I giggle, pressing my hands against his warm pecs. His eyes flare, turning a molten granite before he pushes me down on a log and says coldly, “What are you doing?”

Darcy shrugs, her lips forming a pretty pout. I don’t like it. I don’t like how she looks at him—at all.

“We’re having fun,” she says.

“By playing with children?” he growls.

“H-Hey,” I hiccup, before covering a burp. “Oh, excuse me.”

With a sheepish smile, I meet his wide-eyed gaze and shake my head, before listing to the left and righting myself.

“I’m not, I’m not, shoot,” I say, waving my arms.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, grabbing my arm. “You need to go home.”

“No!” I wrench away and drop to my ass.

He sighs and I squint.

“Why are you so grumpy?”

“Grumpy?” He rears back, raising his brows and his eyes go soft before he shakes his head. “You're wasted. You need to go home and hope your dad doesn’t spank your ass.”

“More like whip me,” I mumble.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Nothing. Geez. I’m not going home.” I cross my arms to emphasize my point but the world tips on its axis and I’m falling forward.

Wolf catches me and wraps me under his arm before stalking away. From behind him, I hear Darcy call, “See you around, Lilli.”

“Yeah,” I say, closing my eyes when my stomach starts to churn. Ugh.

“Um,” I say, swallowing down the saliva pooling in my mouth.

“Nope, you’re going home, baby girl.”

My insides warm at the endearment but I shake my head and push against his arm. “Uh, I’m going to be sick.”

He drops me like a bag of potatoes, and I wince when I hit my knees, before retching horribly. Everything burns, including my lungs as I sag into the dirt.

“Um,” I hum, wiping my mouth. “Do I have the flu?”

He chuffs, “You’re not sick. You’re wasted.”

“Oh.”

I don’t protest when he helps me to my feet, but I do stumble along until he turns with a vicious scowl and barks, “Home.”

“Okay, you don’t have to yell.”

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