Page 22 of The Wolf and the Witch

“As you wish, mate. Just remember, after this you’re mine,” he growled, crawling up to claim her mouth again, tongue plunging in as if he owned her. She assumed he did after what happened next.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, surrendering to the inevitability of their bond. He’d seen her at her worst, protected her when she was most vulnerable, and asked before taking. She couldn’t help but think Hecate and Selene chose well for her.

His cock dented her panties with each thrust of his hips. Geralt reached a hand down, moving them aside so his cock slid along her lips, eliciting a shocked moan from her. Nothing should feel as good as his hard cock sliding through her slick folds did at that moment.

Her teeth clamped down on his lips and she lifted her hips up eagerly, needing more. She wanted all of him. Her magick threatened to rend her in half if she didn’t have him inside of her soon, the fog shifting from a cool shroud to a burning mist.

The tip of his cock edged her entrance teasingly. He’d enter then retreat. It was Greta’s turn to growl, digging her blunt nails into his back, and thrusting her hips up aggressively so that more than an inch entered. Her walls clenched on the added length, tempting her with an eruption.

“Geralt,” she pleaded shamelessly. “Please, give it to me.” She lost to the lustful haze engulfing her mind. She couldn’t handle anymore teasing. Her next breath depended on him sheathing his cock inside of her. Tears stung her eyes, a deep-rooted craving gnawing at her.

It whispered that she needed his knot, that nothing else would satisfy her. She nearly screamed from the internal pressure, nails biting into dense muscle.

Perhaps sensing her mounting desperation, he eased more of his length into her, stretching her with each added inch. Her eyes threatened to roll back, his girth stretching her and scraping along her walls in a way no other had before. She spasmed and clenched around the thick cock easing inside of her.

Guttural incoherent noises spilled from her lips, but she was too far gone to care. Her legs tightened around his waist, needing more. Insanity taunted her, shadowing her mind. She needed him, all of him. Their bond tightened around both of them, gasps filling the air from their lips at the same time.

Dearest Hecate, help her, but she’d never be the same. When a thick piece of flesh kissed her nether lips, she nearly screamed from the intensity of being filled and the added stimulation.

“My knot,” Geralt grunted, tendons straining in his neck, eyes deepening to the darkest shade of red that appeared to want to shift to pure black. Greta’s insides kept spasming and fluttering around his thickness. Geralt held himself still, allowing her to adjust, and it became a different type of torment.

Her climax rested just out of reach, smirking at her. If her ancestors saw her now, they would’ve cleansed her coven long before the Lycans came.

“Geralt,” she moaned, not sure what she was asking for, but needing something extra to push her over the edge. His knot kissed her lips. Some primal part of her ushered her to take it, whispering she’d feel as close to divinity as a mortal could if he knotted her. As desperate as she felt, she listened to the insidious whispers, grinding against the knot brushing her clit from being stretched open by Geralt’s cock.

It bordered on too much, and yet not enough. Her nails bit into him hard enough to draw blood, skin separating beneath her desperation, blunted nails piercing flesh.

“Greta,” Geralt groaned, retreating an inch and surging forward again. She gasped, her entire being poised on a precipice.

“Fuck me, Geralt,” she whispered, tears leaking from her eyes. A growl served as her only warning.

His weight left hers, warm skin no longer brushing her own. He held his weight on outstretched arms, muscles bulging. His cock dragged along her walls on the retreat, teasing her with the climax she’s denied. He thrust forward, hard enough to shove her upward, skin dragging along the damp earth.

Another scream clawed for freedom, mouth held agape, letting grunted moans tumble free. She held on while Geralt set a bruising pace, making sure every inch of him kissed her insides. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he shouted, driving with enough force to shove his knot inside her.

Greta came apart, cells splintering into billions of pieces, bliss kissing every atom of her being. When she came to, she lay limply beneath Geralt as he made shallow thrusts, aftershocks traveling through both of them. Greta swore she kissed Hecate’s feet when his knot entered her and swelled to impossible proportions.

Heavy breathing filled the air, sweat dripping from Geralt’s skin and landing on her cheek. She felt like she’d broken apart and the wolf put her back together with the Mother’s help. She blinked sluggishly, raw emotions and sexual bliss tempting her to shut down. How quickly she came to trust the male braced above her, his knot keeping them joined.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, uncertain if her lips actually formed words. She gave up the fight to the darkness. After all, the shadows offered solace even to Hecate.

Leaving

Happiness burrowed into Geralt’s chest as he gazed down at Greta’s sleeping face, lax in slumber. Some of the dark circles shadowing her eyes had faded. Her cheeks filled out some with Helen regularly plying her with food. His chest tightened and an uneasy sigh escaped him.

They’d been inseparable for the past week. He spent more time inside his mate than running the pack, grateful for having an unmated Beta. But he’d put off the visit to the Silver Lake pack long enough. He could never allow happiness to take root and grow fully as long as his pup suffered. Abbigail needed to be brought home.

During their short time apart during the day, he knew Greta worked diligently in the room he’d set up for her in the back of the packhouse. She still griped it was too small for her needs, but she complained less after he bent her over her worktable and knotted her from behind. His cock hardened, thinking of how her legs shook and jerked beneath him with her climax, as if she could escape the pleasure he brought her. The entire packhouse probably heard her screams.

He inhaled more of her scent, letting it soothe him. He wanted inside her again, but that was the rut talking. Newly mated couples fucked several times a day for nearly a month until the bond settled, pheromones shifting into a semblance of normalcy. He remained lucky Greta wasn’t a she-wolf or rarely interacted with other members outside of his circle of warriors.

He suspected she’d put a male Lycan to shame with her territoriality. Her spark drew him like a moth to a flame, but her fire could burn as easily as warm him from the inside. He’d lost one mate, he wouldn’t risk losing another.

Greta grunted, huffing in her sleep. His lips placed a chaste kiss to her forehead. Breathing became difficult as he shifted her weight carefully off of his chest, trying not to wake her. He loathed the idea of sneaking away, but the witch proved she held no qualms about striding head first into danger.

He’d rest easier knowing Helen and Gabriel would look after her in his absence. He trusted she’d continue working on a spell to aid Abbigail’s rescue while he interrogated the Lycan in the Silver Lake pack, gaining solid blueprints for the interior of the palace.

Once they possessed a plan and a weapon, he could decide who he could trust to go into enemy territory and bring his daughter home. It irked him to consider sending someone after his child instead of going himself, but he couldn’t risk Greta’s safety. She’d insist on going with him.

---