Page 21 of The Wolf

For the first time, I feel like he truly hears me, gets where I’m coming from, and genuinely feels sorry.

“It’s okay. I should’ve communicated better,” I acknowledge, climbing on my tippy-toes and tossing my arms around his nape to lower his head. “Can you shift?” I ask sweetly as I place small kisses along his muzzle, hoping to bridge the emotional distance between us.

“No, I’m too upset. Why?”He tilts his head in confusion.

“I want to kiss you.” Sometimes, I just crave to feel the softness of his lips on mine, and right now would be one of those instances.

He leans closer, kissing me in his own way, the roughness of it stirring something deep inside me, even though it’s not quite what I long for.

“I love you,” I whisper, my heart swelling with warmth as I melt into his touch. “I just need some time for things to sink in.”

We kiss again, deeper this time, savoring the moment entirely. Our tongues dance together passionately, our breaths mingle in the charged space between us, and his scent, musky and familiar, fills the air around me. I realize I’m no longer standing but being carried in his arms across the room.

In the blink of an eye, I find myself on the bed, the softness of the mattress contrasting with the weight of him pressing against me. I feel the hard muscle beneath his fur, the restrained strength in his every movement—the mere thought of his power excites me.

“That was our first official fight,” I tell him, giggling.

His clawed hands grip my hips, sending shivers racing up my spine. The heat of his firm body seeps into mine. As he hovers, his shadow casts a dark silhouette over me, his tail upright, swishing from side to side behind his back as if he were ready to attack. His eyes, glowing with mischief, lock onto mine as he leans in closer.

“You know what that means?” he asks in a low rumble.

I shake my head, acting all innocent, but my eyes drop lower. Nestled between my sprawled legs, I see how his hard, dark pink cock slides out of the black, furry sheath, inch by inch, quivering and pearling a clear drop of pre-cum at the tip. My breath hitches in anticipation. My pussy tingles.

His sharp claws move swiftly, slashing through the fabric of my sweater with precision, leaving it in tatters. My bared chest rises and falls rapidly, as my skin gets exposed to the cool air.

“It’s time to make up,” he answers, his low voice thick with promise, then mauls my tits, ravening like a starved beast.

8.

Queen

Ihardly even see Alex over the next few days. They are all busy with strategy planning and combat training. The constant tension in the air, the serious faces, the whispered conversations—I hate everything about it.

Thankfully, Clara is forced to stay behind, just like me, and shares my frustration. She sits across from me most afternoons, either knitting with an intensity that betrays her worry, or keeping us both distracted with practicing my sewing skills. I know her burden is heavier—she also has to let her sons go. Sending them off must be unbearable. I see it in her eyes. Yet, she keeps a positive attitude, helping me hold it together. She tells me I remind her of her daughter, Willow, who’s only a year younger than me and currently in med school, living on the outside under a protection spell. Even though all three of her children are grown, Clara herself stopped aging at barely twenty-one when Edwin claimed her in the 50s.

Speaking of children, I can’t believe what’s gotten into me the other day to dismiss the council meeting because I gothorny. But it was more than that. Being apart from him during the ovulation was almost physically painful. I felt like I was losing my mind, like my body ignited on fire, like I couldn’t breathe without him. It was such an animalistic need taking over me, making rational thoughts impossible… I’m not entirely sure whether I’m ready to be a mother, but I undoubtedly have developed a breeding kink because of my wolf-man.

I’m surprised to find Alex waiting for me in our chamber after I return from Clara’s craft room. He sits on the edge of the bed, deep in thought,and the sight of him stops me in my tracks.

“Hey, you!” I welcome, then twirl for him, showing off the just barely finished creation Clara and I had been working on together to kill time. It’s a high-waisted, A-line skirt, red with white polka dots, ending below my knees—very pin-up coded. It was Clara’s idea. Apparently, I resemble those “pretty cheesecake girls”—her words, not mine—she saw plastered everywhere growing up.

“You look lovely.” His smile is gentle but that serious look in his eyes remains.

“Thanks!” I approach him, a pang of concern rising inside me. I reach out, running my hand up his arm. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you remember when I told you I arrived on a mission in West Virginia?”

I nod slowly, nervous about where he’s going with this.

“Well, perhaps you’d be interested in joining me on a similar one?”

I stare at him without blinking, processing his question. “Me? Helping you out on a mission?”

“There’s a woman who, just like yourself, carries a wolf gene. Except, I don’t think the hunters know about her yet.”

My heartbeat quickens. “Um… who is she?”

“Her name is Meg, she works as a bartender, and she just turned thirty a few weeks ago. From what we found out, she was adopted as a baby and has no idea who she is. Farah saw her, and I figured that it might be easier if you spoke with her since you can relate to her situation.”

---