Page 10 of Taken By the Pack

I close my eyes, forcing myself to step back, but my body rebels. My hand moves to her thigh, sliding up before I can think better of it. She’s so soft. So fucking warm.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I repeat, but it’s half-hearted. My voice is rough, ragged.

Her hands are on my bicep now, her grip weak but insistent. “Okay,” she breathes out, her gaze pleading.

“I can’t fuck you,” I say, though the words feel like a lie.

Her lips part like she’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, she presses her legs together, her scent spiking, and it’s too much.

“But I can help.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Her brows knit together in confusion. “How?”

I take another step, my hand moving between her thighs. She doesn’t stop me, doesn’t pull away. Her body practically arches toward me.

“This,” I say, my fingers finding her center. She’s already wet, so wet I almost groan out loud.

She gasps, her hands clutching my arms as my fingers slide inside her. One, then two. Her body tightens around them, and I curl them just right, drawing a broken cry from her lips.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her head falling back.

“Yeah,” I murmur, my voice rough. “That’s it.”

Her amber eyes meet mine, glazed over with need, and I can’t look away. I pump my fingers inside her slick heat, watching every flicker of her expression.

“More,” she begs, now desperate.

I oblige, curling my fingers deeper, harder, until she’s gasping, her nails digging into my arms.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads, her breath hitching.

I don’t. My focus is solely on her now, on the way her body responds to every movement, every stroke. Her scent is overwhelming, intoxicating, and I know I’m teetering on the edge.

Her thighs tighten around my hand, and I know she’s close. I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear as I growl, “Let go.”

And she does. Her body trembles, her head falling back as she cries out, her release coating my fingers.

I pull back slightly, chest heaving, and watch her come down from the high. Her amber eyes flutter open, still dazed, and I swear they glow even brighter.

“This… this isn’t supposed to happen,” she whispers, her voice still shaky.

“No,” I say, my jaw tight. “It’s not.”

But as I look at her, flushed and spent, I know there’s no going back.

4

ASH

The ocean wind bites through the morning mist as I crouch by the tide pool, squinting against the sunlight.

There’s movement in the shallows—crabs darting between rocks, anemones swaying with the current.

My notebook is open on my knee, already half-filled with sketches and notes. A purple starfish catches my eye, clinging to the slick stone. Rare to see it in this area.

“Damn, you’re a beauty,” I murmur, snapping a photo.

Footsteps crunch on the gravel behind me. I know who it is before I turn. Karen. She’s been shadowing me for weeks, always finding excuses to “help.”

---