Page 7 of Off Limits
Compatible. Perfect prey. His mate.
When Asher was eighteen, Gabriel recognized the danger. The way his scent affected Gabriel wasn't normal, wasn't safe. Sohe'd created distance, limited his visits, made excuses. And as soon as his best friend's son left for the city, a safe distance, Gabriel had cut the connection entirely.
Or thought he had.
Now Asher was here on the property, his scent so potent Gabriel could track his movements. He was twenty one now. A grown man.
The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through Gabriel's body. He stripped off his shirt, the fabric suddenly unbearable against his sensitized skin. The cool air hit his bare chest, bringing momentary relief that did nothing to ease the deeper burning beneath his flesh.
Two more hours until the moon reached its apex. Two more hours of deteriorating control before the mating cycle hit full force.
He should leave. Find some other shelter deeper in the forest where he could ride out this night alone, as he had always meant to. The logical part of his brain—the human side still capable of reason—screamed at him to go, to put miles between himself and the one temptation he might not be able to resist.
But it was already too late. The cycle had begun, triggered early by Asher's unexpected presence. If Gabriel left now, entered the forest in this state, he would be driven by instinct to double back.
To hunt. To claim what his wolf already recognized as his.
"Not going to happen," Gabriel growled, pacing faster, each turn bringing him back to the small window where he could glimpse the distant lights of the main cabin. "Not to him. Not to Ray's son."
A fierce ache flamed through his core, doubling him over. Gabriel staggered to the bed, lowering himself carefully onto the edge of the thin mattress. Sweat beaded on his forehead, running in rivulets down his bare chest despite the cool night air. His jeans felt constrictive, his skin hypersensitive everywhere fabric touched it.
This was familiar territory—the discomfort, the building pressure. He'd endured it month after month, year after year. This time was no different.
Except it was. Asher's presence changedeverything.
Asher, laughing at something Gabriel had said, eyes crinkling at the corners. Asher, sullen and distant during one of Gabriel's increasingly rare visits, shooting glances he thought Gabriel didn't notice. Asher, broader-shouldered and defiant in his new adulthood, arguing with his father in the kitchen while Gabriel pretended not to hear from the porch.
And now, Asher at twenty one, all sharp edges and wounded pride, scent thick with emotions too complex to untangle.
Another wave of heat rolled through him, settling low in his belly. His cock hardened painfully against the confines of his jeans, demanding attention he was loath to give it.
Typically, Gabriel rode out the night through sheer force of will, refusing to surrender to even the most basic relief. It was his way of maintaining control, of proving that his human side could master his wolf nature.
Tonight, that approach was impossible. The pressure was too intense, the need too immediate.
With a muttered curse, Gabriel unfastened his jeans, shoving them down his hips along with his underwear. His cock sprang free, achingly hard, the head already glistening with evidence of his arousal.
He hated himself for the weakness, for the surrender—but the alternative was worse.
If he didn't take the edge off…
Wrapping a hand around himself, Gabriel hissed at the contact. Too sensitive. Always too sensitive during this night, when his body prepared itself for a claim that wouldn't come.
He stroked cautiously, establishing a rhythm that was more about relief than pleasure, more clinical than indulgent.
The sensible approach would be to think of nothing. To focus on the physical sensation alone, to separate it from emotion or attachment or desire.
But his mind betrayed him again, conjuring Asher's face—those expressive eyes, that defiant tilt of his chin, the way his scent had changed when Gabriel raised his voice. Had that been fear in his eyes? Or something else entirely?
"No," Gabriel gritted out, even as his hand moved faster, his body responding to the dangerous fantasy his mind was constructing. "Not him. Anyone but him."
But it was Asher's face he saw. Asher's voice he heard echoing in his memory. Asher's scent that filled his nostrils, so strong it was as if the young man were in the room with him, just out of reach.
Gabriel's strokes grew rougher, less controlled. His wolf was rising closer to the surface with each passing minute, with each degree the moon climbed in the night sky. The part of himcapable of reason and restraint was being submerged beneath a tide of primal need—to hunt, to claim, to mark.
To mate.
Images flashed behind his closed eyelids—forbidden, shameful fantasies he'd never allowed himself to fully acknowledge. Asher beneath him, throat bared in submission. Asher's lean body arching as Gabriel claimed him. Asher wearing his mark, carrying his scent, bound to him in the most fundamental way possible.
