Page 39 of Her Wolf's Demands

“Anyway…” He huffed. “Every time I failed at shifting swiftly, my father burnt an F into my arm, branding me a failure.”

“Fuck.”

Shrugging, he sat back, taking his hands out of mine. “You know what?” He glanced over to the flickering flames in the hearth. “I need to let it go.” Looking back at me, he smiled woefully. “So, to answer your question, it was a fucking nightmare to find out that I had no choice but to change into a wolf.”

“Yes,” I breathed, ignoring the pang that made my throat close.

“I suppose…” He paused, his gaze searching mine, “…you know how that feels now. Because of me.”

The heaviness spread from him, permeating the kitchen. I reached forward and clasped his head in my hands, keeping him still as he closed his eyes.

“I do know how it feels.” Leaning closer, I kissed his closed eyelids. “And I know how this feels.” My insides quivered as he lifted his head, his hooded eyes gazing into mine. The rhythm of my heart tripled, making me breathless.

“We’re really in the shit, aren’t we?” Sitting up, Malone grabbed my arms and dragged me onto his lap, spreading my legs either side of his waist.

I went willingly, wrapping my arms around his neck and looking down at him. “You’ve got to decide what type of alpha you want to be,” I whispered. “A hard bastard, like your father, never forgiving. Or a pushover, which, quite frankly, I wouldn’t be attracted to…”

Raising his eyebrows, he squeezed my arse cheeks, hard.

“Or…” My breath became heavy as he pressed his lips on the top of my breast, where it bulged from my crop top. “… a modern man, leading with a firm, but sensitive, hand. Connected to your emotions at the same time as standing proud and dominant.”

“Sounds like a fantasy male written by a female writer in a romance novel.”

“Exactly.” I stared into his eyes. “Are you brave enough to find out who you are?”

Chuckling, he ran his tongue across the bottom of his top teeth. “And how do I do that, exactly?”

Warmth radiated from me as I stroked his stubbly cheek. Usually, a man would challenge a woman’s idea of how a male should be, but not him. He had listened and even asked my advice. Shit, my feelings for the alpha may well have just tipped over the edge of the highest rollercoaster point, plummeting to the point of no return and ending up in the bedroom. Great, that didn’t bode well for my binding plan.

“And the painting?” he asked, nodding his head at the square of canvas on the table.

Looking at it, I sighed as I was brought back to my current dilemma… or one of them, anyway. “The pentagram is used to channel magic. It would take a powerful witch to be able to handle the magic of the standing stones, hence why no one has ever done it before. I can’t quite understand why Drake is involved or why his magic is imbued in the painting.”

“Another mystery to solve.” His husky voice danced across my nerves. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I muttered, reversing off his lap before he could distract me. “It’s the full moon ritual.”

Almost tripping to the sink, I ran the tap, filling a glass with water before gulping it down. Looking out the window, I stayed facing away from Malone, staring at the red embers of the fire in the centre of the camp. I had been pretty blasé about the ceremony, too busy worrying about Bohdi. Now that my familiar was safe, fear gripped my muscles, making them shake.

“W-we hardly know each other,” I stuttered. “I know this is the packs’ way of accepting me, but it’s a pretty gigantic fucking commitment. Plus, what do I do about Drake when he’s recovered?”

There, I’d asked him the question that had plagued me since I’d started spending more time with the pack.

A sigh ripped from Malone’s throat. “He can stay at my apartment until we’ve made peace with the witches. As for the ritual…” Rubbing a hand over his face, he blinked wearily. “… We’ll deal with that tomorrow, too.”

The chair scraped as he stood and came to me, pushing his body into my back. Heat blasted every inch of my skin as the bulge in his jeans poked my spine. I appreciated his commitment to keeping my brother safe, but if he believed there’d be peace the whole time we were alive, he was sorely mistaken.

Witches were ruthless when they deemed one of their own unfit to live. The Brighton Pack might be closer to allowing me to keep my life, but the witches wouldn’t stop until both Drake and I were dead.

“You were very naughty, leaving me behind.” A growl rose up his throat as he bent his shaven head, moved my hair off my shoulder and nipped my ear.

A zap of heat shot through me, instantly making me wet. Just his desire was enough to push all other thoughts out of my mind, despite the fact I had been on the verge of panic only two seconds before.

“I’ve been waiting for my telling off. Are you going to punish me?”

The chuckle that hummed in his chest surprised me. “Not now.”

Resting my head to the side, I closed my eyes as his lips traced the top of my shoulder, ascending to the sensitive spot behind my ear. A low hum vibrated in my chest as his hands came around to my front, one spreading on my stomach and the other rising to cup my breast.

---