Page 31 of Howling
The list is endless.
It’s a brutal job, often leaving her bloodied and bruised, but she never backs down from a fight.
She is the epitome of what the Orion stood for before the council corrupted them.
It only makes my dragon even more fascinated with the girl.
Obsessed would be too mild a word.
So I watch from the forest as she accepts food from the three males inside the house. My dragon shifts restlessly, his wings rustling with the need to rip off the fucking door and tear the assholes apart for even attempting to woo her away from us.
Because that’s what they’re doing, even if Francesca is clueless.
How do I know?
My dragon is desperate to do the same thing. He wants to protect her, coddle her, feed her, fuck her, fight with her. The poor beast is desperate to worship her very existence.
Only, we can’t.
The instant the council discovers our interest, she would be used as a pawn to control us, or she would be outright killed for daring to lure us away from the sole purpose of our existence—to serve.
So we’re forced to watch from afar as everyone fawns over her, something that we so desperately want to do ourselves.
I’m so distracted watching the assholes who think they have a chance with my girl that the baying of the hounds in the distance catches me by surprise. Rising from the branch where I’ve been watching my little obsession, I turn in the direction of the threat.
And theyarea threat.
A dozen wolves are moving through the woods like shadows, the scent of violence heavy in the air, and I have no doubt they’re coming for my little obsession.
She’s a magnet for trouble.
While she is fully capable of defending herself, a dozen shifters will be a challenge. Part of me wants to sit back and watch her destroy them. The battle will tire her out. She’ll be distracted by the fight and let down her guard. It will be the perfect time to take her into custody. I stroke the length of chain draped across my chest, the thought of her being at my mercy hardening my cock deliciously.
For shifters, desire is as instinctual as breathing.
Fight.
Food.
Fuck.
Mate.
And not necessarily in that order.
Dragons are different, the need to fuck reserved solely for our mate. While other shifters might struggle with that decision, we just don’t feel the urge until our dragon finds a potential female. I never gave two thoughts to sex, grateful that the council couldn’t force me to breed and build an unstoppable army…until her.
Just the scent of her on the breeze is enough to drive my dragon to distraction. For as long as I can remember, my beast has had apathy for everyone, feeling nothing but anger and rage at the life we’re forced to live.
Now, he fucking coos whenever she’s near, like she is a youngling that he’s trying to lure into liking him. It’s enough to throw me for a loop, and I distrust her for that alone, not that my beast allows me to think any negative thoughts about her without storming away in a huff and ignoring me.
Fucking moody bastard.
I’m not proud to admit I stole some of the clothing she left behind, something that contains her scent, just to appease my dragon. Whenever the stubborn asshole throws a fit, I only need to reach into the pouch at my side and touch the soft fabric of her sleep shirt to distract him.
That’s how I find myself sitting in a tree, watching a random house, her shirt clenched in my fists. The scent of her is beginning to fade, and it’s not as effective at restraining my beast.
My dragon is restless as he presses against the underside of my skin with the need to shift. He’s done just watching her from afar, no longer willing to be put off by my bullshit delays, insisting that we claim and protect our mate. The need to shed the blood of the men trying to woo her is a compulsion that is becoming harder and harder to resist.
