Page 45 of Moon Cursed

“Answering... in order,” he grunted to the table. “I got it from the... secret store. I paid for it with money. And I got it for you because... I heard you mumble once that you’d... kill for some banana milk.”

My face split, my smile beaming wide. I lived on banana milk when I was pregnant. It was one of the few things Hope would let me keep down. But sadly for me, banana milk wasn’t a thing in Wolf Nation. It was a gift the mundanes gave to the world, proving their species wasn’t entirely pointless.

Not only did Paxton care enough to remember a throwaway comment I made weeks ago, but he crossed dominions to get me something that’d make me smile.

“That reply actually spawned a whole lot more questions, including how long you’ve been stalking me, creep boy, but...” I gently lifted his head, smiling into his eyes. “I’ll start with a thank-you. You should’ve told me wooing me came with presents.”

“Well, you’re... in luck. I’ve got more.” Paxton spread his legs and pushed up on his palms, holding himself up like a tripod.

Nia took one look and hissed, cringing hard.

I couldn’t blame her. The man looked terrible. His normally coiffed, luscious head of hair hung in greasy lanks. A sickly pallor shone underneath the beads of sweat covering his forehead, and his shirt was nowhere to be found. Not uncommon for male werewolves, but going by the fact his fly hung open and his belt was missing three loops, I guessed he was shirtless because he gave up in the middle of dressing.

“This...” Paxton reached into the backpack he dragged behind him. “...is for me.”

Taking so much time and effort even I was cringing by the end, Paxton pulled out a black t-shirt and tugged it over his head.

“Them Bitches?” I read off the front. “Is that a band or something?”

He held up a finger. “Now for your... present.” Paxton tugged out a purple tee, and handed it to me. I took one look, and almost fell out of my chair laughing.

Splashed across the front in big, block letters was—I Conquer Them Bitches.

“You’re not the bitch, I am.” He looked deep in my eyes. “I’m your bitch.”

I snorted, almost bringing up my banana milk—I was howling so hard. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. You can’t actually think I’m going to wear this?”

“The point wasn’t to make you wear it,” he rasped. “It’s to make you just a little bit wetter for me.” The man was at death’s door and still flashed me a roguish smirk. “And it worked.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop giggling. I would never say it out loud, but the shirts were cute. “Why are perverts so confident these days? I miss the days when you guys did all your jerking off in the bushes out of everyone’s way.”

A weak chuckle was all I got in response.

Paxton’s head dipped, slow-falling right back on the table. As pathetic as he looked, I was impressed with him. I knew how much pain he was in. The fact that he wasn’t on his knees begging me for the medicine was restraint I couldn’t comprehend. I cursed everyone and their mother if I even stubbed my toe.

“I don’t know about being wet for you, but you did earn some points today for making me laugh.” Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the vials. I unstopped mine and slid over his. “Here. Tonight’s the open forum anyway, and you have a right to partici—”

He pounced, moving a million times faster than he did with those shirts. Snatching the bottle, his fangs and claws erupted as his dying wolf burst free—downing the meds to mask his pain. He devoured the contents as I tipped mine down my throat—gagging on the awful taste.

I will never get used to—

“More!” Eyes yellowing, Paxton leaped across the table and tackled me. His lips were on mine before we hit the floor.

“Hmmphff!”

Cradling my head, Paxton tipped me back and ravished me.

I wish I had another word for it, but there was no other way to describe the ravenous plundering that began when he broke through the weak barrier of my lips.

Nipping, licking, tongue twisting and battling with mine, Paxton trapped me under one hundred and forty pounds of hot, muscled, hungry wolf, and for the first time ever, the tough she-wolf that always knew what to do... was drawing a fucking blank.

I shouted into the kiss—eyes bugging, feet pounding his ass, hands slapping his shoulders. The man was sucking all the medicine out of me like jelly out of a donut, and why couldn’t I stop him!

My slaps were weak. My kicks wouldn’t hurt a butterfly. My shouts were quickly dissolving into moans.

What are you doing!? You don’t like Paxton. The guy’s a rich-dick asshole. He pretended to like you to steal Mom’s letters. He called you a bitch in front of everyone, and he’s only all over you now because he wants something again. Push him off, Volana.

Push him off!

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