Page 56 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

Runa wouldn’t nest all the way up there where she thinks I couldn’t reach her, would she?

She abso-fucking-lutely would.

Chapter 23

Runa

The soft blanket offers me comfort against the winds lashing at the tower. Ash’s worn T-shirt, which I never returned from when I picked it off the ground after he shifted to sniff out his Regulator’s death, serves as a source of security, even though I’m unsure why I kept it.

I had meant to return the T-shirt, but when I packed for the nesting trip, it was the first thing I put in my bag.

His woodsy scent is strong and reassuring, rather than just arousing. It helps because I don’t want to touch myself too much during the heat. Once I start rubbing myself, it’s difficult to stop, and I can rub myself raw, which hurts. Masturbation provides a false sense of relief that’s only temporary. What it actually does, on a biological level, is enhance the frenzy of the heat, which can only be sated with intercourse. Preferably, sex with an alpha male who will knot me.

I locked the doors and blew out the fire once I heard a male werewolf howl at the fire moon. With my head under the blankets to keep warm, I listened while the wolves answered his howl. Since the cadence of the howl varies from pack to pack, from alpha male to alpha male, I’m pretty sure Ash is out and about in the storm, howling at the fire moon.

Blade doesn’t seem like the type who would push his luck for a moon that’s not riding him as much as it’s riding the fire wolf.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Ash couldn’t contain himself indoors. He pulses with raw power, and because he broods and scares people away, the Fireborn Alpha gives the impression that he’s a lone feral wolf.

My hand sneaks between my legs.

I bite my lip.

I must stop thinking about that werewolf.

It’s all Maren’s fault. She ought to have banged him and gotten him out of our territory. But no, my sister wanted a human. I can’t say I blame her when she’s getting plenty of dick now, while I’m over here about to dry hump my pillow.

Frustrated, I sit up and throw off the blankets because, of course, I’m having heat flashes that flush up and down my body. I remove my jeans, which are getting uncomfortable and scratchy against my sensitive skin, then sit cross-legged with my back straight against the stone wall. The cold instantly seeps into my body. I rest my hands, open palms up over my thighs.

“Dear Moon, thank you for the light that guides the night. Give me the strength to carry your light without breaking during these trying times. Keep my wolf wise and my heart pure. Watch over me and mine and keep us hidden beneath your pearlescent glow.”

The prayer calms my heart rate and steadies me. I imagine I’m outside, sitting down to rest after a long run. Snow surrounds me as it often does, but I’m not cold. I’m a Stormcrest omega. Winter weather is my bitch.

I lift my hair into a messy bun, imagining the reddish glow of the fire moon hitting the back of my neck. I settle into my meditation by allowing myself to feel the moon bathing me, filling me with holy goodness. I focus on the back of my neck, the howling of the winds outside, the rain that’s pelting the windows, until I can almost feel drops hitting my arms.

Snow has already covered my tracks. The bridge to the tower has been lifted.

I’m untouchable.

I’m whole.

The Moon is with me.

A sniff sounds outside my door.

I snap my eyes open and listen.

Sniff. Sniff.

The dust under the door lifts. I inhale, trying to get a whiff of the intruder on the other side, but nothing comes back.

The animal whines. It’s a werewolf.

A male werewolf, to be exact. Terrified, I hold my breath and don’t make a sound. My heart is beating a mile a minute.

The male scratches the door aggressively, trying to get inside my nest. I scramble for my backpack and rise. Gun in hand, I load more silver bullets into the chamber and point the weapon at the door.

The male scratches and whines, but there’s growling mixed into it, which tells me he’s becoming agitated. I don’t know why he’s in wolf form or why he hasn’t shifted yet and announced himself.