Page 11 of Virgo Queen
“Fokk,”Draco grumbles. “I don’t give a single shit about Zara. We wanna be withyoutonight, Mallory. Jean-Emilien and me both.”
Her delicate frame arcs with an electric sizzle of awareness. Trapped between us, held captive in our hands, Mallory trembles like a deer in a snare. Then her psychic channels flood with a sudden heady rush of anticipation and arousal. She drenches the air with the sweet scent of honeysuckle.
My nostrils flare wide to drink in her sweetness. My werewolf bares his horrible teeth and slavers. He yearns to hunt and chase and fuck. Her scent is ambrosia. Her cunt is dripping.
Beneath her pretty dress, she is soaked.
She is soaked for both of us.
She is so wet I can nearly taste her.
Then, for some reason I can’t grasp, her head droops and her shoulders slump.
“Look.” Under our hands, her ribs deflate in a dejected sigh. “If this is about what I saw on the stairs, you honestly don’t need to worry. I won’t tell a soul, okay? You don’t have to, you know,pretendyou’re into me—”
“Ah, but who is pretending?” I lower my head to nuzzle the soft skin stretched over her fragile shoulder. At the first brush of contact, she shivers and gasps—a broken, vulnerable sound that makes myloup-garou’s vicious fangs plunge from my palate in a rush.
I am startled, me, that already he is so well prepared to give her his mating bite.Oui, the moon is nearly full. But it’s more than the moon that drives him. His ceaseless feral mutter fills my mind.
Ours she is ours claim our mate—
Now I’m wary. Even alarmed. I know he wishes to give Draco our mating bite, but our accursed venom is far too potent. If Ishould ever weaken and give my beast full sway, even a warlock as powerful as Draco would be doomed.
As I am doomed.
Cursed to share body and soul with the wolf.
Yet there is no other woman myloup-garouhas ever wished to claim in this way.
I must be careful, so careful, never to lose control.
For her sake.
Carefully I burrow into Mallory’s fiery hair and nuzzle the velvety skin of her neck. She tastes like strawberries and cream and innocence. She smells like rain and honey. Her silky curls tickle my closed lids. Her pulse leaps and skips against my lips.
“W-wait a minute,” she whispers. Ah, her voice, how it trembles. “Are you saying… do you actually want…me?”
“Chere,” I say gruffly against her skin, through the envenomed menace of my fangs, “my wolf, he is feral with wanting you. This is why I told you to run,oui? But now, it is too late.”
“No, wait, do you mean…?” She does not seem able to finish.
In response, I suck a vicious love bite into the tender crook where her neck meets her shoulder.
“Jae—”Around the sound of my name on her innocent lips, her desperate whisper splinters and breaks.
“Mallory,” myloup-garousnarls, rabid with need. “My sweet. I am saying you are mine.Ours.I am saying you should have fled. By staying, you sealed your fate. Now I am saying—you belong to us.”
My clawed hands curl around her hips and spread, hard and claiming, over her soft belly and fertile womb. My cock swells against my zipper. I arch my swelling heat into the tender curve of herderrière. Her soft trapped whimper slips out.
She is trembling desperately—how else?—under the threat of my claws and the press of my fangs and especially the jut of my hungry cock, shoved crudely against her luscious bottom.
But of course, she is trembling.
I am a monster lurking at her back.
I am shirtless and barefoot and sweating and all but mindless with rut. Surely I will ruin her pretty dress and her fresh unspoiled innocence with my need and my violence.
I will ruin her.
