Page 64 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

Red in the face, Runa manages not to choke. “Almost died on a cock.”

I laugh and add funny to the growing list of reasons why I think she’d make a wonderful wife.

Runa leans forward and props her elbows on my chest. She rests her chin in her hands. “Why do you have so much chest hair, wolf?”

“So when you ride me, you have something to hold on to.”

She purses her lips and rubs my jaw. “Why are you growing a beard?”

“Because I like it.”

“What if I don’t?”

I shrug. “It’s not grown yet, so you haven’t seen it.”

“I don’t like facial hair.”

“Good thing you don’t have any, then.”

“You’re so sassy,” she says.

I laugh. “Nobody’s ever called me that before.”

“What do they call you?”

“Asshole.”

“You’re that too.”

“It comes with the territory.”

Runa runs her fingers back and forth over my jaw. I don’t mention the way she likes my beard bristles rubbing her while I eat her out and make her come. She needs to get used to my facial hair.

Some of us have trouble adapting to new things. On average, it takes me about two weeks to adapt to something. I use various techniques to help with processing change faster, but it’s not easy to adapt to new situations.

Yet, I must adapt faster. I must because humans push the world to move fast, too fast for them even, but they’re caught in a hamster wheel without a clue of how to get off. They’re prisoners of their alchemy and technology as much as we are.

If they stayed away from me and mine, their bullshit wouldn’t bother me. However, their never-ending greed for the parts of werewolf nature they can’t have makes them a threat. They don’t like that I exist. They don’t like the power that elemental fire wields.

If humans don’t want to coexist with werewolves, they don’t have to. They could leave us alone. They could be over there, and we’ll be over here. Coexistence is how we prosper. If not, to each their own. Trespassing into my territory and hurting us is not acceptable.

By bringing the Stormcrest pack closer to me and further from the humans, the humans will be forced to reconsider their power status in the world, since it’s werewolves who mostly wage their wars. Where alchemy and technology fail, our claws don’t. On battlefields, the Stormcrest males fight us, not humans.

If the werewolves fight each other, humans benefit. But I have no animosity toward the Stormcrest pack other than that I think they’re on the wrong side of history. For as long as they’re on the side that pits us against each other and uses us as their lab animals, we’re enemies.

Runa feeds me a piece of soft white cheese. I swallow it quickly so I don’t taste a thing. I’m not a fan of cheese alternatives from alchemical factories.

But Runa is used to it. Land that’s frozen for most of the year isn’t favorable farmland. Cows don’t roam in pastures here. The humans supply the Stormcrest pack with just about everything.

“You like that cheese?” she asks.

Is a guy allowed to lie while balls-deep inside a gal? Because I’m not going to tell her I prefer cheese made from cow milk.

“Yeah? It’s great, no? Try this one.” She feeds me a yellow cube. “It’s called cheddar.”

I chew on rubber. That isn’t cheddar. It’s cheddaresque. I don’t say that because I’m trying to be agreeable while I have a female I like sitting on my knot. No better reason than that to become agreeable for once.

Runa licks her fingers, then dries them by rubbing them on my chest hair. She lingers, threading my hair between her fingers. In turn, I trail my palms up her waist and feel goose bumps rise on her skin.