Page 42 of Wanderlust With Wolves

Maya stretches against me,her bare skin soft and warm where she’s sprawled across my chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over my fur.

Somewhere outside, the forest settles for the night, the hush of winter broken only by the occasional rustling of trees and the distant howl of a wulver patrol.

And then?—

A playful sigh from the woman wrapped around me.

“I think we scared away dinner.”

I chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, my fingers stroking the curve of her hip, the dip of her spine, the soft flesh of her thigh.

“You doubt my ability to provide for me mate all she needs?”

She tilts her face up, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Never.”

She shifts slightly, and the movement reminds us both that we are still very much tied together, my knot holding her in place, keeping her locked exactly where she belongs.

“Besides,” she murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to my throat, “does it look like I’m in a hurry to move?”

I grin, my hands caressing down her back, possessive, adoring.

No.

She isn’t.

Even if she wanted to, she still had at least thirty minutes before my knot would let her go.

And even then?—

She wouldn’t be going far.

Because this is her place now.

Here, with me.

I exhale slowly, breathing her in, letting the scent of sated pleasure and home sink into my bones.

No, we’re in no hurry whatsoever.

“I was going to suggest the venison meatballs in the freezer for dinner,” I murmur, nuzzling against her dark hair.

She hums in approval, her body melting against me.

“That sounds divine,” she sighs.

Her contentment seeps into my soul, settling something deep inside me, something that had been restless, aching, incomplete before her.

I found my home in her.

Not in a cabin.

Not in a territory, a town, a bloodline.

Her.

And then?—

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