Wolf Roulette (Werewolf Dens #3) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,2
my hands and knees. Shit.
Panting hard, I touched my lips. That was… incredible.
Sascha walked to me and ran a hand down my back, taking care to brush over my ticklish spot.
I sat back on my haunches.
His eyes were as rounded as mine.
“That was far better than any dream,” he breathed. “I’ve found a new obsession.”
So had I.
I rested a hand against his jaw and leaned in.
We sighed as our lips touched.
This couldn’t be real.
“Feels so damn good,” he spoke into my mouth.
Good was the understatement of the century. If I’d ever needed an occasion to use the word wondrous, this was it.
The scent of our lust rose hard and fast.
Sascha rested his forehead against my breasts. “Fuck.”
My shoulders shook. “This will make things harder.”
“It already has.”
Yeah, something was jabbing me in the ass.
Snorting, I climbed off him.
His want seared across the distance. “Do you need any relief, mate?”
As odd as the concept of sexual relief sounded, the partial heats I’d experienced in the past weren’t a joking matter. They were borderline painful in their intensity.
I turned my focus inward. Huh. “I’m okay this time.”
Sascha’s disappointment curled around me.
I’d always reacted after the meets. Minor reactions at first, but they got stronger each time. I felt nothing now. “Is that weird?”
“Our mating gifts have been off-balance from the start. I’m not worried.”
I didn’t comment on the blatant concern rising from his skin. Instead, I hugged my knees to my chest. “What does doore koh e baka mean?”
“I find you unworthy.”
Well, that was freakin’ horrible.
He bent a leg up, regarding me as if his erection wasn’t the elephant in the room. “What did you think it meant?”
A really long no. “Never mind. Is it the Luther language?”
He nodded. “No one really speaks it anymore. Purely ceremonial.”
That was a shame. Something I loved about my tribe was how well our history was preserved. Not that I could speak any of the indigenous language, but the songs and stories crafted from it were beautiful.
Sascha cleared his throat. “We should be able to mind-speak in two-legged form after the kiss meet. Let’s give it a try.”
We could already mind-speak partially shifted or fully shifted. But those restrictions were inconvenient sometimes.
“Come here then.” I crooked my finger.
He latched onto my ankle and dragged me across the mossy grass.
His voice was solemn. “I win.”
My twitching lips ruined the effect of my glare. “I’ve never had to take so many showers in my life.”
Sascha peered intently at me.
“… Are you doing it?”
He leaned closer. “Trying to.”
Mind-speak was easy. The words just needed to be pushed in the other person’s direction.
Join me in the shower? I thought at him.
No reaction.
“Nothing?” That’s all I did in four-legged form.
I inhaled the spike in his concern.
Still, Sascha was right. Our so-called mating gifts had never worked properly. They came in at random.
Well, not exactly at random.
They arrived whenever I’d accepted Sascha’s presence in my life a little more.
So maybe this didn’t make sense. We were closer than ever. Or at least, I’d taken a huge step toward him. “Is there anything you’re worried about? With us?”
“My feelings remain the same,” he answered. “And you, mate?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
He interlaced his fingers with mine. “Then let’s put it behind us.”
I frowned. “You don’t think it has to do with me being on pack lands, do you?”
My wolf was a sigma after all.
Are you okay about this? I asked her.
For me, this is no different to interacting with the tribe. I’d prefer to be alone, of course.
It wasn’t Booker either.
Sascha tensed. “You don’t like living here?”
That wasn’t the problem. “Moving here is the only big change I can think of.”
“A lot has happened lately. Moving here is the least of those changes. This is probably nothing, little bird. Yeah?” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
I rested my head against his chest. “Yeah.”
2
I rolled in Sascha’s gigantic bed and encountered coldness instead of his overheated body. I consulted the elastic band sensation under my ribs. He was a couple of buildings over in the pack house.
Sun blared inside the open patio doors, and I took my time stretching.
Last week, waking after dawn would be laughable. But I wasn’t head steward anymore, so fuck it. Plus, things were kind of awkward with the pack, so sleeping in meant less time in their company.
We could live in the forest, Booker said hopefully.
I padded to the wardrobe. Good try. Hey, if you’re a sigma, does that make me a sigma too?