The spark of our existence. Our mate, he answered, purring through my chest—slow, steady, reverent.
She stirred, frowned, and kicked a leg out.
I jumped back just in time before she unmanned me. She grunted and shoved the blankets aside. A thin cream chemise clung to her form, but before I could look closer, she turned away, facing the wall.
Give her your scent. Her heat is coming, Wulfric said—and I felt the restraint in him, tight and deliberate.
I unwound my scarf and laid it beside her pillow, close to her mouth. Moments later, her hand reached out, fingers curling into the cornflower-blue wool as she pressed it to her face, breathing me in.
I tilted my head toward the ceiling, silently begging any god who would listen to spare me from mauling her like an animal.
Wulfric was unimpressed.
I didn’t care.
All I wanted was to sink into the bed beside her—to hold her until her heat came. To feel her warmth. To scent her just beneath her ear, where it was strongest.
Wulfric shuddered at the thought.
Do it, he whispered—soft as sin, sharp as temptation.
I bent and quietly removed my boots, then—like a thief in the night—I slipped into the bed behind her. It took several careful moments to settle myself flush against her back. I kept checking her face before finally lowering my head to the pillow, reassured when I saw her still clinging to my scarf.
Only then did I place my arm around her waist and release a slow, controlled sigh.
It wasn’t comfort.
It was agonising torture.
Her scent was so thick, so cloying, that my body betrayed me within seconds. We lay there together—waiting, panting, utterly and tantalisingly afflicted.
The only consolation was holding her.
Feeling our hearts beat in time.
Allowing our beasts to recognise one another.
Time slipped strangely. Minutes—or hours—it was impossible to tell.
Then her breathing changed.
Deeper.
Almost laboured.
And with a soft sigh, she shifted—rubbing her sweet derrière back against me.
I gripped her hip, guiding her movements, giving her what she needed until heat soaked through her clothing—praying all the while she’d leave her scent on my breeches.
Wulfric began to pace.
So close, he muttered.She needs us. My she-wolf needs our knot.
I nuzzled into the crook of her neck and inhaled. My mouth fell open. I could taste her scent as much as breathe it in. I ground my rigid staff against her, ignoring the restrictive breeches.
For the first time, I felt a different kind of swelling beneath the length of my cock.
The knot.
