I shook my head and pushed the fresh memory to the back of my mind. Nope. That would be something to unpack in therapy later, assuming I’d survive this nightmare.
I kept the lights off as I wandered deeper into the cabin, not wanting to signal to the wolves that someone was home in case anyone happened by.
My eyes adjusted to the dark to take in the dead man’s belongings.
“Ugh. Creepy,” I muttered to myself as I found several sets of blank eyes watching me from the walls. The heads of variousgame animals were displayed in his living room, mounted over the couch.
I hurried into the bedroom, not wanting to make eye contact with the poor bastards.
Like the rest of the cabin, the room was furnished with the basics: a dresser, a king-size bed, a nightstand with a lamp made of deer skin and antlers.
The hunting trophies didn’t surprise me one bit. What threw me for a loop was the bookcase nestled against the wall, every inch of shelf space accounted for with well-read books. The silver wolf liked to read?
Most of the books were horror titles.Salem’s Lotby Stephen King must have been his current read since it was perched on his nightstand with one of the corners dogeared. Of course, he’d forgo an actual bookmark, the barbarian.
Setting my ax on top of his dresser, I dug out a flannel dress shirt from one of the drawers.
Was I really about to wear a dead man’s shirt? Creepy, considering I’d beheaded him not an hour ago. But it felt less weird than wandering around his house in the buff.
I tugged the shirt on. It was practically a tent on me.
His dark and spicy aroma swaddled me, making the place between my thighs ache. Fuck, not this again. I was dangerously close to full-on heat, and my uterus hadn’t gotten the memo that the silver wolf was dead.
I debated pulling the shirt off since the male’s scent was affecting me in ways that made my core run hot, but then I dismissed the idea. The werewolves would have a tough time tracking me down if I smelled like one of their own. Covering myself in his scent would help my presence here go undetected.
I edged toward his bed. His scent was the strongest there.
Jesus fucking Christ. Was I really about to climb into his bed? I tried to rationalize the urge to roll around in his sheets asa survival move. But I knew it was more than that. My heat was right around the corner, and my hormones were going haywire, driving me to do unhinged shit.
Crawling under the quilt on the bed, I smashed my face into his pillow. I didn’t want to be attracted to this male’s scent.
He’d killed Hope.
He’d made me think he wanted me.
His wolf had told him to claim me when he’d already had a mate with a baby on the way.
That twisted bastard.
I was still crusted in his blood, staining his white sheets as I breathed in his scent, recalling the way he’d pinned me to that tree with the knife pressed to my pussy. His mouth on my throat, hot breath spilling over my skin.
Counting my piercings.
Teasing me.
Fucking me with his eyes.
My hand slipped beneath the blankets and found my center. My legs fell open, my fingers gliding through my folds and finding the last piercing he never reached. My lips parted with a moan as I pushed a finger inside my pussy and withdrew it to smear my slick juices over my clit.
I was so wet, soaking the silver wolf’s sheets in a filthy cocktail of his blood and my arousal.
In the short time I’d known him, I’d hated him. Yet, somehow, his scent clotting my lungs was like breathing in something warm and familiar. The memory of his touch would be branded on my skin forever.
“Fuck you…” My words came out fractured and breathless as I fucked myself with my fingers, picking up my pace. “Fuck you. Fuck you for making me want you.”
My pinky finger hooked through the ring piercing my labia and tugged as I imagined it was the silver wolf pulling on it. Ifantasized about his rough hands and sharp teeth working every inch of my flesh. Marking me. Making me his. Stretching my little body around his thick wolf cock, just like I suspected his beast had urged him to do.
I hated when Sawyer had hurt me several cycles back when he’d taken my heat as consent. The pain he’d inflicted was because he was a clumsy jackass who wouldn’t know what foreplay was even if it bit him in the tail.
