Page 99 of The Wolf King's Mate

My cock throbbed anyway. That fucker was hard as a rock thanks to my female’s scent alone.

She brushed the hair off my face. “How long have you been sleeping here?”

I managed a sound of protest.

“Don’t try to tell me you weren’t asleep. There’s drool on your arm.”

I was too wiped out to care.

“Come on.” She lifted my arm over her shoulder.

“Your ankle,” I argued, as she tried to take some of my weight.

“It’s fine. My wolf ran for hours, and we didn’t feel any pain.”

The words smelled true.

I was tired enough that I could’ve been imagining that, though.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to lift you, so you’re going to have to help me here, Enzo.” She tugged on my arm for a minute, trying to adjust it, until she finally poked me in the side in an effort to wake me up.

I swatted her hand away, trying not to squirm.

Humor filled her voice “Tell me you’re not ticklish. There’s no way a man as big, powerful and gorgeous as you is—” Her fingers tickled my side, and I wrenched away, snorting and swatting. “Ticklish. You’re legitimately ticklish. How?”

“Everyone is ticklish,” I grumbled.

“Everyone isnotticklish. Certainly not strong, deadly men like the wolf king. You can’t be—” I grabbed her wrist when she tried to tickle me again and finally lifted my head off the table.

“I’m getting up.”

“Finally.” She pulled my arm the rest of the way over her shoulder. “You still have blood under your nails. Have you been asleep on the table all afternoon?”

“No.” I held my own weight as I stood, but let my arm droop so she felt like she was actually helping drag my ass across the room.

She looked over her shoulder at my pasta bowl. “Was that your lunch? It’s barely dinner time, and I’ve never seen you not finish a meal.”

My stomach growled to answer her question.

“You fell asleep during lunch?”

I grunted.

“I’ll grab some food from the dining hall for you.”

“I’ll cook. I need to feed you too.”

“My wolf took down a poor little bunny while she was running.” She patted her abdomen with one of her hands. “I’m definitely not hungry. And you’re obviously not in any shape to cook.”

“I don’t eat the dining hall’s food.”

“Why not?”

I made a noncommittal noise.

That story wasn’t one she needed to hear. Ever.

She sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

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