Page 82 of Ravaged Wolf
I moan. It’s so good. “Right there.”
“Right here?” He hits the spot again. A wave ripples through my belly like a stone tossed into a lake.
“Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he promises, his wolf rumbling in his chest. “Not until you come. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I whine. More ripples are rippling, each a little stronger, but not enough. Not what I need.
He hikes my left leg over his bent arm, opening me wider so he can fill me even more completely. Rising to one knee, he thumbs my clit and slams that amazing spot over and over until my thighs shake.
“You almost there, beautiful?” he asks, his impatience not quite hidden well enough.
I growl, grabbing for him, desperate with need, but I can only reach the hand rubbing my clit. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and squeeze.
“Come for me now,” he pants. “Come on my cock.Now.”
The submissive wolf in me has never been happier to follow orders. An orgasm crashes through me like a pinball machine. My hips jerk, my toes curl, and I let out a guttural scream that instantly has me burying my face in Trevor’s chest. His laughter rumbles against my nose as he slamshome one more time, shouts, bucks, and fills me with hot cum.
He lets my hoisted leg go, and I wrap both around his waist. He nestles his chin into the crook of my neck, brushing reverent kisses along the scar from his bite.
For a few minutes, we breathe together like we’re on a seesaw. I inhale as he exhales. Back and forth.
Eventually, the delicious fog in my brain begins to burn off, and despite my fears, there isn’t a host of worries and bad memories waiting to rush on stage, just a quiet room that still smells faintly like sawdust and paint and a gentle wind whistling in the eaves.
“Good thing Granddad is sleeping at the elder cottage tonight,” I say drowsily.
“Good thing we put up walls,” Trevor says. I giggle. He lifts his head to grin at me, pleased with himself for making me laugh.
He tucks a hair behind my ear, and his face grows serious. “You’ll stay here, won’t you, Izzy? Here in our house. With me. As my mate.”
The uncertainty and hopefulness in his voice makes my heart twinge, and my eyes prickle with threatening tears.
I don’t answer quickly enough because he rushes to add, “I know what I’m asking. I know your life and your family is at Moon Lake, and if you want to go back, I understand.” The blue in his eyes tips in favor of the gray. “I’ll be honest—I’ll follow you to the border, and wait there for you forever until I grow moss or a beard of ice or whatever, but I will understand.” He stops himself to draw in a steadying breath. “Stay with me, Izzy. Please. You’ll never want for anything as long as I have breath in my body, and I’ll never, ever hurt you again.”
I take his head in my hands and press my forehead tohis. “Of course, I’ll stay. We’re in this together. We’re a team now.”
I’ve never been on a team, not really, but the idea warms me deep inside. I don’t want him to follow me or wait for me or even provide for me, although that warms me up, too.
I want us to live our lives side by side, like when our wolves run together or when I held up the drywall for this room while he fastened the screws in the studs. I want him to bring me a bucket of water for washing, and I want to snag him a bottle of soda from the communal fridge.
I never learned what love is, living on the nineteenth floor of the Towers at Moon Lake, so I’m making it up here as I go along, and I think it’s this—holding on to each other with all our might, as gently as we can.
16
TREVOR
What Izzy doesn’t know isthat I talked to Cadoc a month ago. I knew it wasn’t a simple request for Izzy to join the pack permanently. The exchange program is supposed to normalize relations with Moon Lake, and losing another pack member to Old Den, especially a female, could have the opposite of the intended effect.
As a male, I was privy to the discussions surrounding the program when it was proposed, even though I had no interest at the time. The exchange was Madog Collins’ idea. He showed up one evening alone to talk to his son. That conversation was private, but everyone eagerly added their two cents to the deliberations afterward.
Most of the scavenger males felt strongly that Madog Collins could go fuck himself. Alec Cameron said he’d give his left nut for an experienced pipefitter. Seth and a few of the other ranked males from Moon Lake were focused on the risk of bringing people with unknown loyalties into our territory.
Apparently, even though Alban Hughes is dead and Gwen Collins is on an indefinite visit to North Border, theirfollowers have changed their tactics, not their mission. Seth, in particular, thinks that if the “rank supremacists” can topple Madog, they’ll raid us to get the scavengers back, and as we all saw, Madog is not the male he once was.
I don’t think Seth is wrong. Rank is less sweet, after all, if there aren’t rankless wolves to exploit. On an even more basic level, wolves won’t jockey for rank—and work themselves to death in the process, making money for Moon Lake—if the specter of ranklessness isn’t there to scare them into climbing the ladder.
Anyway, I understood the implications when I went to Cadoc about Izzy, and I was also painfully aware I have nothing to trade except my labor. I asked. He said, “Don’t you remember? I said you’re pack, and Izzy’s your mate, so she’s pack.”
