My body feels strange. Not just the lingering effects of fever, either. A restlessness beneath my skin, a hollow ache low in my belly. The early signs of heat, but still manageable. I probably still have some time before it really hits.
The bath salts have helped, but not enough. The ache intensifies, pulsing between my thighs, demanding attention. I press my legs together, trying to ignore it, but that only makes it worse.
So does the fact that I'm alone and surrounded by alpha scent.
Just to take the edge off, I tell myself. To make it easier to function until the suppressants arrive. It's practical, nothing more.
My hand slides beneath the robe, brushing against my heated pussy. I'm already wet, slick coating my fingers from the first tentative touch. I bite my lip, stifling a moan as I circle my clit, sending sizzling sparks up my spine.
Closing my eyes, I let myself go, let my mind wander.
It goes straight to Wraith.
His massive frame looming over me, those intense blue eyes holding mine as his rough hands replace my own. I imagine his solid weight pressing me into the mattress, the scars snaking down his muscled chest brushing against my breasts, kissing down my throat.
In my fantasy, the mask is gone. I have no idea what lies beneath it other than that he has scars, so my mind won't conjure up anything specific other than his mouth on mine, hot and demanding. Hungry kisses that leave me panting, kisses that take and take and take.
My fingers move faster, mimicking what I imagine his would do. Teasing, exploring, claiming.
"Please," I whisper to the empty room, to the phantom alpha my mind has conjured.
I slip two fingers inside myself, gasping at the intrusion, at how empty it feels compared to what I really want. What I need. My thumb continues to circle my clit as my fingers thrust, curling to find that spot that makes my toes curl.
In my mind, it's Wraith above me, his powerful body caging mine, protecting even as he claims me. Those rough hands gripping my hips, positioning me just so. The fantasy is so vivid I can almost feel the weight of him, his wild scent surrounding me as he growls low in his chest. A sound of pure alpha instinct as he fills me, stretches me, claims me.
My back arches off the bed, muscles tensing again as I approach the edge. My free hand clamps over my mouth, stifling the sounds I can't control. The fantasy shifts, deepens—Wraith'shands in my hair, his body shuddering against mine, his knot swelling and locking us together.
The orgasm crashes through me, my body writhing with ecstasy so intense I go rigid and nearly black out. A high-pitched whimper escapes past my fingers as my inner walls clench around my fingers, my body desperately seeking a fullness that isn't there.
For a moment, I just lie there panting, aftershocks rippling through me, my hand still crushed between my legs. Shame creeps in as reality returns, as I remember where I am, whose bed I'm in.
What the hell is wrong with me?
A creak and the sound of a door shutting from somewhere below the loft pulls me from my self-recrimination, ice flooding my veins.
There's someone in the pack house.
Someone downstairs.
I freeze, barely breathing, straining to hear over the pounding of my heart. A low male voice, and definitely not Wraith. Not only is he mute, he wouldn't sound like a frat bro soldier if hecouldspeak.
Panic bubbles up my throat, making me nauseous all over again. Is someone coming up here? Does the pack house have other alphas returning from practice? Did Wraith tell them about me after all?
My feet tangle in the robe as I scramble out of bed, nearly sending me face-first into the floor. I manage to catch myself,moving as silently as I can toward the trapdoor in the floor that Wraith had blocked earlier with the dresser.
I press my ear against the floor beside the dresser's legs, listening intently. Footsteps. Someone moving around down there, but they don't seem to be approaching the hatch.
A light tapping sound from behind me makes me jump out of my fucking skin. I whirl around with an instinctive growl, grabbing the bedside lamp and brandishing it like a sword in front of me.
Wraith's blue eyes meet mine through the window, his brow furrowing slightly at the sight of me holding the lamp like I'm about to bash his skull in if he enters. His gaze drops to the gaping neckline of the robe where it's fallen open in my haste, then jerks back up as if burned.
I feel my face flush beet red and I clutch the robe closed with my free hand, setting down the lamp with the other.
Wraith's hands move in the familiar gestures I've come to recognize as asking permission, asking if he can come in.
"Just a minute," I mouth to him, mortification turning my insides to liquid. He just caught me in his bathrobe, flushed and disheveled from getting myself off while thinking about him.
He won't knowthatpart, at least.
