Page 20 of Scarlett's Wicked Wolf
I feelseen. Worshipped. Like every inch of me is worthy of this devotion.
He doesn’t rush. He lingers, learning me with his mouth like he’s memorizing a map. Tongue circling, teasing, pressing. Then flattening and licking harder until my back arches and I sob his name into the pillow.
“Right there,” I pant, hands fisting in his dark hair. “Oh, Gods,please?—”
He groans against me, and the vibration hits like a spark. My body bows, tension ratcheting, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until I can barely think. I’m floating and falling, burning and blooming, every nerve ending tuned to the sound of his breath, the way he tastes me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, tongue flicking again. “So perfect. Come for me, my little wolf. Let go.”
The bond pulses. My soul feels like it’s reaching for his—wolf and woman both cracking wide open—and Ishatter.
It’s not quiet. It’s not polite. It’s a feral, gasping, soul-deep orgasm that steals the air from my lungs. He holds me through it, never stopping, never flinching, like he knows exactly how to destroy me and build me again.
When I finally still, boneless and wrecked, he kisses the inside of my thigh again. Then my hip. My belly. My sternum.
He makes his way back up until he’s beside me, pulling the blanket over us both. His arm tucks under my shoulders, cradling me to him, his body heat a cocoon I never want to leave.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers against my temple. “Always.”
And in the flickering firelight, with the smell of pine and salt and sex wrapping around us, I believe him.
My legs are tangled with his, my body heavy with afterglow, but my mind is alert and strangely clear, as if the pleasure cracked open a door I didn’t know was there. Reid lies beside me, his hand idly stroking my arm like he can’t not touch me.
Silence falls, thick and sweet. Then my stomach rumbles. Loudly.
Reid chuckles and climbs out of bed. I hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, and then he returns with a tray laden with bread, cheese, and fruit.
I prop myself up, tucking the blanket around my chest, and we both tuck in. Once I’ve eaten my fill, I turn to face him.
His eyes are half-lidded, but not from exhaustion. He’s watching me. Not hungrily, not possessively—justseeing. It makes my chest ache.
“My grandma raised me,” I say, the words slipping out like stones I’ve been holding too long. “I never knew my parents.”
His hand finds mine, his thumb smoothing over the back. “Your mom…?”
“Died giving birth to me.” The words are familiar. Not painful exactly, but worn with repetition, like an old bruise I’ve stopped pressing. “My father was… no one, apparently. Or at least no one who stayed.”
Reid doesn’t speak. Doesn’t offer sympathy or empty apologies. Just waits.
I breathe out, settling deeper into the bed and resting my cheek on his chest. “It was always just the two of us. Grandma and me. Ruby Cottage was hers long before it was mine. In Fable Forest, people knew us as the ones with the Sight. Some respected it. Others whispered.”
“They came to you for help.”
“More and more after the Veil started thinning. When magic began spilling into this world, some folks panicked. Others woke up with gifts they didn’t understand. They came to Ruby Cottage for herbs. Advice. Warnings.” I pause, then smile faintly. “Or just tea and a place to remember they weren’t crazy.”
“And the day I found you?” Reid asks, his voice a low vibration under my ear.
I swallow. “I was collecting wild ginger in the eastern woods. It strengthens the protective wards around the cottage. I feltsomething dark circling for weeks. Thought it might be a rot-spirit or a banshee. It’s why I wanted to strengthen the wards around Ruby Cottage.”
“I know other wolves roam the forest,” he says slowly. “Other shifters. But I’ve never seenhimbefore. Not the gray one. Not until the day he attacked you.” He tenses beneath me, the guilt blooming off him like steam. “I should’ve gotten to you sooner.”
“You got to me exactly in time,” I say, lifting my head so he can see I mean it. “I’m here because of you.”
His jaw tightens, and his hands flex. “I wasn’t even hunting that day. I was running just to run. To burn off the ache. Then I caught a scent.”
He pauses. Swallows. “My whole body stopped mid-stride as if something yanked a chain inside me. I didn’t even know what I was chasing, only that I had togetthere. My instincts weren’t guiding me; they weredraggingme.”
His eyes lift to mine. “It wasyou, Scarlett. Your scent hit me like a thunderclap. Not just blood or magic. It was…” His voice softens. “Home. Hunger. Fate. All tangled together.”
