Page 22 of A Wulver for the Week

“There’s a storm coming in,” Craig murmurs, his arm through mine like the perfect gentleman he is.

“It’s perfect out. Balmy and clear,” I argue.

“No, I know there is. There’s thunder in the far distance and rain on the breeze,” he says, lifting his nose in the air and inhaling deeply.

Almost sniffing like a dog. In that position, I suddenly expect him to howl. “How come I can’t smell it then?”

“Um. It’s... It’s probably the way I was raised. Where I grew up. And then living in the mountains so long, not just Pine Ridge, but I also went to college in Antonia, on the Pennsylvania side of the Endless Mountains. You get to know the signs of storms.”

“Funny,” I muse. I grew up moving from place to place with my father’s career as a civilian contractor for the military. We spent long stretches of time near Atlanta, Georgia, Richmond, Virginia, and then Willow Gove, Pennsylvania. I know Craig isn’t outright lying. Maybe the mountains and growing up in Scotland do give him some sort of weatherman superpower. But I also think he’s not telling me something.

“Like the wolf.”He never said, “My teeth are so big because they’re fangs.” He said, “All the better to eat you with, my dear.”

“What wolf?” Craig’s voice is sharp, and he scans the area as if expecting to see one.

“In my dream,” I blurt out the words, trying to sound composed. “Sorry, I was just thinking. About my dream. See, I was running along this beach, and the wolf pounced on me and tore my cape.”

“I thoughtIwas the wolf.”

“You... You were.” Shoot. He’s going to think I’m crazy.

“I pounced on you? No wonder you were mad this morning,” he tries to laugh it off.

Two daiquiris and a rum and coke over a long, leisurely dinner give me courage, not to mention the feel of his sun-warmed arm around my back as we danced, his laughter in my ear as he stood behind me and pulled for all he was worth during the tug-of-war. “Who said I was mad at you?” I ask, voice light.

“Weren’t you?” His voice holds a faintly incredulous note.

“I was mad that I woke up before the wolfman finished what he was doing.”

“Which was what?” The voice is lower now. Syrupy slow, the edge of the growl in it that makes my insides backflip and then dissolve into a hot, quivery mess.

My arm laces through his more tightly, and I remember the drowsy kisses of this morning, the warm weight of him against me—and how much I want to feel him on top of me again. But this time, I want him pressing in deep. Parting me like he’s wading into a warm sea. God knows I’m already wet enough.

“I’ll show you,” I say the words in a flash, not thinking, only feeling.

I run.

SHE RUNS. I CHASE.It’s pure adrenaline and instinct. My mate runs. I catch her. I follow her scent.

She starts off fast, giggling, bouncing in that soft, flowing dress that shows too much. God, what I wouldn’t give to watch her run toward me, breasts rising and falling.

I start off slow, laughingly calling for her to come back. She looks over her shoulder, pauses, and then keeps running, speeding up.

My vision pierces the dark. I have to catch her. Catch her before she gets away and it’s too late! My heart constricts. If I don’t catch her now, I’ll lose her forever. Maybe that’s not true, but the voice in my head won’t be argued with.

My stride breaks into the wulver’s traditional long, loping gait, springing over the sand while my sweet Minnie struggles, falters, and then falls when we’re far, far down the beach. Lights from the resort are blurry blazes in the distance.

Minnie lands on her back in the wet sand, half under a palm tree. I fall to my knees and crawl the rest of the distance to her. Over her.

“He did this!” she gasps, panting hard from running.

“He did this?” My lips crash onto hers, and I’m shocked at how eagerly she responds, kissing me back with her hands tugging my fur. Her hips are a relentless wriggle under mine as she works her dress up over her thighs.“What else did he do? Truth,” I tell her with a warning note in my voice.

Minnie swallows and licks her lips. One hand moves between us, resting over the softly padded mound I can feel between her thighs. “Tell me? Please?”

“He said... All the better to eat me with. And then he did.”

“Oh. Oh!” My eyes gleam so brightly I don’t know how she can’t see the gold irises shining. She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I yank her dress to her waist and watch in awe as she pulls the pleated peasant neckline down to reveal two magnificentheavy breasts that fall to the side. Her fingers immediately journey to the dark centers, tugging her hard nipples and moaning softly as I roll her panties down over her knees and pull them off over her sandals. “You want to be eaten, sweet little thing?”

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