Page 97 of Taken By The Wolves
Her fingernails rake my spine. “Yes. Give it to me. Give it to me…” She arches her neck, grabbing hold of Nixon’s arm on her left and Finn’s hand on her right. “Like that. Fuck. Please… oh, fuck, please…”
I thrust hard, my pulsating knot driving inside her, stretching her wide, hips snapping like a machine, and she cries out, her pussy clamping in waves that are so tight, my vision becomes white light as I fill her with my seed. My climax punches through me so hard, I lose connection with the world around me, yanked into blackness that spins with pinpricks of light, pleasure roaring through my body as sheclings to me.
I press my forehead to hers, staring into her lust-glazed eyes, as she contracts around me again.
“Feels. So. Good,” she gasps, gripping the back of my neck and wrapping her legs around my waist, sealing us together in her own way.
Sweat drips from my pecs to her breasts and coats our skin where we’re joined. Her scent rises around us, making Nixon and Finn growl for their own turns.
They have to wait at least twenty minutes for my body to release her, and this time is mine. I relish her around me, peppering her face with kisses.
Her body bears three marks, proof of what she is to us.
Scarlet. Mate. Mother. Magic.
My brothers will take their turns to show her what she means to them, and after, we’ll curl around her, our hands resting on her belly, over the lives we’ve created. Her skin will glow. Her eyes will flutter closed.
With every kiss, every touch, we remind her, and ourselves, that love can rise from ashes. Sometimes, fate takes the shape of a woman with fire in her hair and passion in her soul.
Once, we ran wild beneath the moon, all teeth and fury. But now, we sleep with Scarlet’s heartbeat beside ours. The big bad wolves still live in us… now, they have something to protect.
And in that perfect moment, clasped tightly inside my woman, I whisper the only truth I know, accompanied by my trademark smirk.
“Even big bad wolves can be tamed by the right woman.”
EPILOGUE
SCARLET
The babies in my belly squirm, their limbs creating moving hills and valleys of my skin. I’m huge and swollen and sore, but so damned happy, I can barely keep the smile from my face.
A week after the battle, Finn drove me back to the city. We boxed my life, including tools, the ugly first-commission chair, Gran’s quilt, and the muffin basket, and loaded the truck while Mom pressed cinnamon rolls into our hands and told my wolves to drive safe.
She loved them, whispering about how handsome and strong they are, and how the adoration in their eyes when they look at me is as clear as day. She flushed happily as they kissed her cheek goodbye, telling her they’d bring me home whenever I wanted. It was a happy day, and it gave me the courage to broach the subject of their unusual nature three months later.
Maybe I would have waited longer if I hadn’t found out about my pregnancy.
I’m still reeling that they managed to get me pregnant the first time we had sex. Mom was baffled, but that bafflement became wonder when I introduced her to Ahya for the first time, and my little girl chose that moment to shift into her wolf form, leaving me clutching an empty pink princess dress, and my mom chasing a wild wolf around her living room. I think it was the cat that prompted the shift.
Nixon sits on the rug, building tall towers for Ahya to knock over. She yells ‘more’ and ‘higher’ and ‘no Daddy’, making all my big, bad wolves’ hearts melt.
Reed responds to a knock at the door, and Goldie’s smiling face appears. She’s dressed in jeans and a canary yellow jumper, and clutching a container of something that smells delicious. “I made my pineapple cake. I know it’s supposed to be a myth that pineapple helps to bring on labor, but I thought it couldn’t hurt. At worst, you get to eat something sweet. At best, you’ll be free of that massive bump.”
“Gimme,” I say, beckoning with both hands. These babies have made me feral for sugary treats, and Goldie has become an excellent baker in recent months, despite having five small children to take care of.
“I’ll make coffee,” Finn says, as Ahya toddles away from the tower towards the box of cake. She may not be my biological daughter, but she shares so many of my traits that she may as well be.
I slide my feet off the couch and bend to help her eat tiny bites of cake, all while avoiding a crumby mess. “More,” she says.
I stroke her halo of soft red curls. “My little red riding hood.” I smile softly as her sweet cupid’s bow mouth purses as she chews.
“She’s not afraid of the big bad wolves,” Nixon says.
“She’s going to grow up to be one,” Reed says proudly. He follows Finn into the kitchen and returns with two cups of coffee for Goldie and me.
“And a big bad bear,” Goldie reminds us.
It’s still strange to think of my sweet little girl as a wolf or a bear. She shifts when her daddies shift, mainly into the little wolf I’ve gotten more accustomed to seeing. When she’s in wolf form, she’s inquisitive and playful, bounding into the forest with Finn at her side, sniffing out small prey, and frolicking in the fallen leaves. She comes back filthy but happy, as though the freedom of her small furry body gives her a more profound sense of connection to who she is.
