Page 68 of To Carve A Wolf

The citadel was too far for me to make the ride without falling off a horse. Andros knew it. I didn’t bother pretending otherwise. So we went to the nearest outpost instead—a small, walled station nestled between the base of two cliffs.

Wooden palisades, smoke curling from chimneys, the stink of sweat and horses and boiled meat. The moment we rode in, Garrick was already walking toward us, grinning like the bastard he was.

“Well, well,” he said, raising a brow. “If it isn’t our fearless Alpha and his runawaystray—”

Andros didn’t even glance at him. He dismounted, came to my horse, and scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing. I didn’t argue. My legs were done pretending.

“Fuck off,” Andros growled. “And get someone to bring up hot food. Real food.”

Garrick snorted but turned on his heel without another word, still chuckling as he walked off.

Andros carried me through the outpost like a man on a mission. The cold didn’t touch me, not with his body around mine, not with the scent of him curled so close to my skin. He kicked open a door near the back of the main hall and stepped inside a chamber I hadn’t seen before.

It wasn’t large. Not like his rooms in the citadel. No fire-lit stone walls or silk-draped bedframes. Just a sturdy bed, a chest, a fur-lined bench near the fire, and clean linens.

But it was warm. And it was quiet. And it was safe.

He shut the door with his boot and set me down, eyes dark and hungry even through the exhaustion written all over his face.

I started to untie my boots, fingers slow and clumsy. My cloak slipped from my shoulders and landed on the floor in a heap.

Andros leaned against the door, watching me.

“You think,” he said, voice low and hoarse, “we have time for one more round before your heat wears off?”

I glanced up, a smirk tugging at the edge of my mouth. I reached for the hem of my tunic, dragging it slowly over my headas I stepped out of my boots.

“Maybe more than one,” I said, letting it drop to the floor, “ifI get something to eat immediately after.”

Andros’s grin was sharp, wicked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it.”

Before I could respond, he crossed the room in two strides, grabbed me by the waist, and threw me onto the bed. I hit the mattress with a breathless laugh, bouncing once, furs tangling around my legs.

He was on me a second later, moving like a storm rolling in slow, deliberate, unstoppable. His body covering mine inch by inch, claiming space with every breath, every shift of muscle, his dark blue eyes locked on mine like they were anchoring me in place, like looking away would be a sin neither of us could afford.

The bed creaked beneath his weight, and the warmth of his body settled over mine like a second skin. His hands slid up my thighs, parting them with practised ease, and I shivered—not from cold, but from the anticipation that coiled low and tight in my belly.

Andros kissed me—once, deeply, claiming my mouth like it belonged to him, like it always had. And then he pulled back, trailing his lips down my jaw, across my throat, nipping at the tender spot just above my collarbone.

My breath caught. My legs shifted restlessly, already aching for him.

He smiled against my skin, sensing it, then moved lower. His mouth followed the path of his hands, his lips brushing my ribs, my stomach, until he knelt at the edge of the bed, strong hands gripping my thighs.

“Lie back,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. “Let me show you what it feels like to beworshipped.”

I didn’t argue. I leaned into the furs, legs falling open for him. And when he buried his head between my thighs, hismouth hot and hungry against my slick heat, I cried out, loud, shameless, raw. My fingers tangled in his hair, and my hips rose to meet him as he devoured me like a starving man who finally had permission to feast.

“Gods—Andros,” I gasped, my back arching off the bed.

He didn’t answer with words—only pressed in harder, devouring me like I was the only thing that could satisfy him, like I was the answer to every question he’d ever had. The wet sounds of his mouth on me filled the room, mingling with my breathing, ragged and desperate.

He found that perfect spot with his tongue and stayed there, relentless, ruthless, until I was writhing beneath him, my voice rising without control.

“Don’t stop—don’t—”

Andros kept going, licking deeper, faster, until the world broke apart behind my eyes and I shattered with a cry, my body locking up, thighs shaking around his head. The orgasm tore through me, sharp and overwhelming, the bond between us pulsing in time with the pleasure.

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