“No,” I croaked.
But even as I denied it, all the signs I’d dismissed came crashing down on me at once.
“Listen,” he murmured against my neck.
His chest expanded behind me and he purred—low and animal. The sound rolled straight through me, stealing my breath. My eyes fluttered back as I buried my face in the cloth.
Yes, a voice whispered in the dark.
A soft voice—neither mine nor his. Before I could spiral, his purring drew me back, and I leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut.
“Yes,” I panted, my voice breaking.“More.”
Instantly, his purring deepened, louder and stronger, easing the next cramp low in my belly.
“Do you need more, my sweet? Where does it hurt? Show me where you ache the most,” he purred.
I caught his hand as it rested on my hip and guided it to my belly. His fingers were warm as they began to move, rubbing slow, gentle circles, soothing at first—almost comforting.
But even as the pressure eased, I realised the truth.
The ache wasn’t there.
It came from somewhere lower.
I turned to face him, and my breath caught at the back of my throat. His eyes were bright, the moonlight catching and reflecting in their amber depths.
His arm crept beneath my back as his mouth swooped down. Our lips clashed, and I swallowed his breath as his tongue pried between mine, sealing us together.
He groaned into my mouth, swirling his tongue while I clutched a handful of his thick hair—not to yank him away, but to hold him there.
His fingers inched lower, and I lifted my hips off the bed in answer. His hand curved between my thighs, over my chemise and underwear, teasing me in ways I had no words for.
I traced my fingers over his wrist and down to his hand.
He pulled back, just enough to look into my eyes.
“Not yet,” he said, his lashes fluttering as he leaned in to kiss me—soft, restrained, almost reverent.
“What?” I asked, confused by the mixed signals.
“We need to get you to your nest,” he said, easing back.
“Nest?” I echoed, dazed.
He paused, then set his hand on my belly again, rubbing slow and steady, grounding.
“Our union will take days to conclude,” he said, his voice low and warm.
“Why days?”
“It is what our wolves demand,” he replied with a faint shrug.
“Wolves…” I trailed off, uncertainty creeping in.
The howling that night rose unbidden in my memory. I rubbed at my temple as a dull ache began to throb. Folklore—whispers of wolves and men, of beasts wearing human skin. Just stories.
Yet when I looked at Thaddeus, his eyes were blue again.
