Page 2 of A Wolf of War
“Don’t give me that. You know as well as I do that you’re doing great.”
Willow grabbed a plate from the counter and began loading it with food, each scoop guided by the whims of her stomach. She piled her plate high with enough food to hold her over for the next few days, let alone a single meal. She doubted she’d finish, but she’d give it her all.
After they assembled their meals and moved to the other side of the counter, they fell into a comfortable silence. After a few years of living together, the sisters had settled into a routine, the days flowing by effortlessly. At first, they were constantly in each other’s way. Something changed, though, as they grew accustomed to each other, and soon their laughter was as frequent as their spats. There were still plenty of disagreements to be had, however, and Willow found that half the time she wanted to wring her older sister’s neck.
The first bite of ham nearly sent Willow into space, sweet brown sugar glaze melting into the wonderfully tender pork.
“It’s incredible, Poppy. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
Their relationship was tangled, complicated bythe weight of shifted responsibilities and flipped roles. Though Poppy was technically the older sister by a stretch, it was often Willow who stepped into the shoes of the eldest.
She was the one who carried the responsibility, both as caregiver and breadwinner, doing whatever it took to maintain their stability. Still, Poppy was a motherly figure to Willow. This was especially true after they had lost their parents.
They finished their meal slowly, indulging in every bite. The conversation was a light, infrequent hum between them.
When everything was cleaned up, Willow felt the familiar pull of responsibility calling her back to her computer. She hugged Poppy briefly, offered another soft thank you for the dinner, and made her way back upstairs, the weight of her work already settling back in.
***
Once in her office,Willow breathed out a long sigh, slipping off her cream cardigan in favor of the white racerback tank top beneath. Delicate gold rings gleamed on a few fingers—minimal but striking on her pianist’s hands.
She hung the cardigan over the back of her chair,then sank back into the plush leather, the chair offering support where it was needed most. No regrets about spending the extra cash for comfort. Back support was one of the things she’d never skimp on.
Willow let her fingers fly across the keyboard, the mouse darting around the screen in erratic bursts. More emails landed in her inbox by the minute, and she was already overwhelmed. Willow reached under the desk again, flipping open the mini-fridge with another quiet click.
What was a long night without liquid courage?
Willow took a long swig, the cool beer sliding down her throat as she returned to the grind. She lost track of time until the little clock in the corner of her screen read 12:30 a.m. By now, she was ahead of the game. The reports were filed, the spreadsheets meticulously updated, and everything was in its rightful place.
Her desk had become a graveyard of empty beer bottles, and when Willow stood, she felt her knees wobble. She wasn’t the best at holding her liquor, and the liquid felt like it was sloshing over the edge of her stomach.I may have overdone it.
But it was a perfect opportunity to relax and let the day end on a high note.
She needed it. Pressure still hung heavy on her sagging shoulders.
Willow slipped out the door and crept her way down the hallway to her bedroom. Poppy was a heavy sleeper, but Willow preferred not to risk waking her up.
A few seconds later, she stood in front of her bedroom door. She turned the knob slowly, eased it open, and stepped inside.
Her room was her own personal sanctuary, meticulously curated to offer solace from the daily hustle and bustle. It was a place to help her shoulder the weight of chronic fatigue, that relentless phantom she couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how many treatments or remedies were offered. Nothing worked—no pill, no supplement, no “miracle cure.”
The cardigan hit the floor as soon as the door shut, followed by her tank top and bra. She shed her jeans and socks with the same slow, unbalanced movements, her feet dragging toward the king-sized bed.
Stumbling sideways a little, she threw back the covers and hopped up to climb beneath the cotton sheets, the material softly brushing over her legs. With a quiet sigh,she reached for her bedside table, opening the drawer and rummaging until she found what she was looking for—a silver bullet vibrator.
Willow leaned back, pressing the power button until it hummed to life, then let her knees fall apart. In seconds, the toy was positioned at her core, her breath quickening as pleasure began to flood her system.
2
MILO
The night called to him, rich with promise, both lush and bright; only a wolf would find light in the darkness. To humans, the street was dim, with stretches of gold and blue flickering across the blacktop, spilling from glowing windows and flickering television screens like a net cast over the night.
Milo had only just arrived in town a month or so back. Barely had his feet touched American soil before he found himself tangled in this mess.
He sucked in a sharp breath, pushing it all away, determined not to let his thoughts drag him back to the chaos in his mind. The distraction had to be forgotten for now. That was all it was, a distraction. There were more pressing matters now. Namely, the fantasy of pale thighs wrapped around his head while his tongue lapped greedily at his mate’s sweet cunt.
