Page 43 of Wanderlust With Wolves

I need her again.

I shift, rocking her gently, feeling the way her tight, hot muscles squeeze me, holding me deep.

She lets out a soft, breathless moan, her fingers curling into my fur, her body already responding to my slow, teasing movements.

Her stuffed, swollen channel squelches around me, slick and pulsing, and I groan, dragging my thumb down between her legs, circling her soft, sensitive bud.

She shudders, her breathing sharp, uneven.

I flick faster, rubbing her until her thighs tense, until her hips jerk, until she’s clutching at me, her sweet little whimpers turning into gasping cries.

And when she shatters, her entire body convulsing around me, her fingernails biting into my skin, I finally let go?—

Ropes of endless release filling her, marking her, claiming her, my body quaking beneath her still.

I don’t stop?—

Not until her last trembling sigh escapes against my neck, not until her breathing slows, not until she melts into me completely.

Only then, when she is utterly spent, do I finally hold her close again, murmuring soft words of praise, letting her drift against me in perfect peace.

I never expected this.

Never expected to find something so perfect, so right, after everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve fought, everything I thought I’d lost.

But here she is.

Mine.

And I will spend the rest of my life proving to her?—

That she is my mate.

My home.

And that no matter where she runs, no matter where she wanders, I will always, always follow.

Epilogue 2

EPILOGUE: FOREVER HUNTED

Maya

The forest isalive with the sounds of the hunt.

Laughter, rustling leaves, the thunder of paws and feet against the earth, the crisp, cold air laced with anticipation.

A year ago, I had no idea what I was getting into when I joined the Sweetheart Wilds Festival.

I didn’t know that choosing a red ribbon meant choosing a mate.

I didn’t know that a growling, golden-eyed wulver would chase me down and change my life forever.

But this year?

This year, I run for him.

I run for the thrill of it, for the way my pulse pounds, for the delicious tension that coils in my stomach knowing what’s coming.

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