Page 63 of To Carve A Wolf

My name hovered on her tongue. I could feel it. She was close. Closer than she wanted to be. Every part of her was betraying her—her body, her wolf, the way she lifted her hips for more even as she shook her head.

“You want me to stop?” I asked, voice rough now, thick with need, curling my fingers inside her slowly. “Tell me. Just tell me to stop.”

She said nothing. Her breath was ragged. Her whole body trembled. I moved again. Deeper. Curling. Claiming. She broke.

Her back arched, mouth falling open around a silent cry as her heat surged and her body clenched around my fingers.

And still—still—she tried to speak through it.

“I—” she gasped. “I can’t—”

“You don’t have to anymore,” I growled, lowering my mouth to her throat, letting her feel the scrape of my teeth. “I’ve got you now.”

And I did.

Because when I pulled my fingers free and she whimpered at the loss, when she didn’t push me away but gripped my arms instead, dragging me closer, her eyes glassy and wide. That was when I knew. She wasn’t running anymore.

She wasn’t running.

Not with her legs wrapped weakly around my waist, not with her nails digging into my arms like I was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Not when her wolf was purring beneath her skin, pressing forward, aching for mine.

She was done.

And I wasn’t gentle.

I kissed her like I wanted to break her open—biting, breathless, deep. Her lips parted with a choked sound, soft and torn between defiance and surrender. I swallowed it. Swallowed all of it.

I pressed her down into the furs, the heat of her skin almost unbearable. The layers between us were too much, and I ripped them away, baring her to the cold cave air. She gasped, but not from the cold. No, the fire inside her burned too hot now for that.

Her thighs trembled as I settled between them.

She looked up at me then, with those fucking green eyes that drove me insane, pupils blown wide, chest heaving. There was still resistance in that gaze, flickering, dying. But there was want too. Raw. Terrified. Irrevocable.

“Andros,” she whispered.

I froze for a breath, chest tightening.

Then I lined myself up and pressed forward, slow and steadyuntil I was seated deep inside her. She cried out, her hands flying up to grip my shoulders, body arching off the furs.

Fuck.

She was tight, hot—her body clutching me like it already knew whoIwas. Who I would always be toher.

I gave her a moment. One heartbeat. Two.

Then I started to move.

Each thrust was measured, hard, dragging her closer to the edge with every stroke. I watched her unravel. Watched her eyes flutter closed, her mouth fall open. Watched the last threads of denial snap like rope soaked in fire.

“I told you,” I growled against her throat. “By the time this night’s over, you’ll be on all fours.”

“No,” she whimpered—but there was no strength behind it now.

I gripped her hips and flipped her, pressed her chest to the furs, pulled her ass back against me. Her legs barely held. She let out a broken sound, but she didn’t stop me. Didn’t fight. She arched.

“Good girl,” I said roughly, voice laced with pride and something darker. “Now beg.”

She shook her head, even as her hips rolled back against mine. I reached down, stroked between her legs, feeling how wet she was, how close.

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