If he can be vulnerable, so can I.
“I’ve spent years trying to act like I’m okay with not being mated,” I admit. “You have to understand, though, in my family, it’s a big thing. And not in a shitty ‘you’re less of a shifter if you don’t mate’ kind of way. It’s our biggest source of joy to see each other so happy. If I’m brokenhearted about anything, it’s because I never got to share in that joy with my family. Even though I’m mated now, I’m still unable to participate in the joy. I can’t even celebrate our mating, and it’s the worst feeling in the world.”
“Goddess,” he growls. “I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Well, I’m not going to let you sleep out here and wait for an owl to come and eat your ass. Get inside,” he demands, turning toward the door.
“Are you seriously trying to boss me around?” I ask, swooping down from the branch to join him on the back porch. “Because I am not putting up with your alpha dog bullshit.”
We both shift into our nude human forms, and I flick his ear—a warning—before crossing my arms. Thorin, however, reaches out and I raise my brow, pulling my chin back. He persists, cupping my jaw, stroking it with his thumb.
For the first time, I feel warmth, and something like affection, flow through our bond.
“I would never try to boss you around. And we don’t stand on alpha bullshit in my pack.”
We stand there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. The mating instinct is so goddamn strongin this form that I can barely hold my ground. I have never wanted anyone more than I want this man at this moment.
Jackass.
It was hard to read his expressions as the wolf, but as a human, Thorin’s face is a kaleidoscope of emotions, swinging between sad and frustrated and horny.
“I would like to start over again,” he says, breaking our stalemate. “If we can.”
My first reaction is to tell him, in ways both painful and inventive, to go fuck himself, but that just reminds me how much I need him to fuckmeand knot me and make my belly swell with his seed.
His eyes widen, and I’m pretty sure he can tell how I’m feeling.
Fine.
I guess we’re starting over.
Rolling my eyes, I stick out my hand. “Hi, my name is Poe Ravenswood because my mother is a hopeless romantic.”
His grip on my hand is warm and sure, just like it was on my cock the first—second?—time we fucked. “Hi, Poe. My name is Thorin Wolfsbane because my father wanted to make sure his son had a good, strong name.”
“What does Thorin mean?” I ask, distracted by the memory of him jacking me off while knotting me.
Goddess, I need his fucking knot. Right.Now.
He shifts on his bare feet and looks out over the setting sun. “Thunder.”
I can’t help the snort-giggle that rises up out of me, and Thorin’s eyes light up at the sound.
“Did you just snort?”
“Maybe. What of it?”
He steps into my space and grips my hips. “It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. Though, are you making fun of my name?”
I shiver. “No way. Having slept with you, I find it an apt description of the way you fuck.”
A growl starts up from the middle of his chest before pitching up into a needy whine. I stroke the back of my hand over his furred belly.
“How about this? I promise not to decorate your house in sparkly bits—not yet, anyway—and you promise to stop being a scared little bitch. Then we go into this beautiful house of yours and do whatever comes naturally.”
He chuckles, then pulls me in against his body, hugging me tight as darkness descends.
