She’d walked in of her own volition, and now she belonged to three wolves.
* * * *
Dinner was still settling warm in her stomach when Boone stood from the table and jerked his chin toward the back door.
“C’mon, sweetheart. You’re mine tonight. I want a walk, first.”
Her legs protested when she stood, muscles still tender from punishment, from drills, from the constant demands of being used as a vessel for their pleasure. Her body was one big throb of heat and soreness, but the air outside was cool against her skin, and Boone’s big hand on the small of her back was steadying. She breathed in the scent of damp earth and pine, and her soul unwound, when she hadn’t even realized how tightly coiled she’d been.
She let the quiet seep in, let her body settle after the constant edge of the last twenty-four hours.
They moved past the buildings and into open grass, his stride easy, his voice deep. “This way.”
A wide, long meadow opened ahead of them, silvered in moonlight. A wooden stage stood on one end, sturdy and plain, with small benches curved in an arc like a pack-sized amphitheater. Cubby holes were built into the stage front, each the right size for neatly folded clothes.
She didn’t have to ask why; she could easily picture wolves stripping down before thechange, tucking their things away.
Magic hummed here, old and layered, decades of the pack’s voices, the harmony of their gatherings, the rush of paws over grass.
Hawks don’t have an equivalent to pack magic, but she’d heard enough about it, she recognized it when she felt it settling around her like a warm hug.
He led her into the trees at the far edge, the path narrowing. Moonlight broke through the branches in soft, silver patches. The quiet wrapped closer, the scents of pine and damp earth grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.
It was nice, just walking. Not crawling, not kneeling, not bracing herself for the next jolt or order.
Shelovedbeing used by them — the raw, unapologetic way they took what they wanted. The way she was nothing but a body for them, but she knew she couldn’t live in that state forever. This relentless pace, one man after another. It would be perfect to endure it, tosurviveit for a week, maybe even a month, but not a lifetime.
Here, though… here she could breathe.
“What part do you think I’d play in the pack, if I stayed?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Boone’s answer was slow, thoughtful. “Traditionally, the Alpha’s mate is as high in the structure as the Alpha when it comes to keeping the pack running smooth, putting out fires, mediating problems. Since you’d belong to the top three, I figure it’ll make you pretty damned significant.”
Another dozen steps, and he said, “If you stay, you’ll be part of the family. A fucktoy, yeah, but a companion, too. Part of the household. Part of the fabric of the pack, even if youarea bird.”
The words settled deep, heavier than she’d expected, but before she could turn them over too far, Boone stopped, unfastened his jeans, and reached for her hips.
He lifted her like she weighed nothing and set her down on the thick length of him.
Her dress was loose, and it wrinkled around her waist, no panties to get in the way.
His heat filled her, the stretch so sudden and brutal her breath caught. Her pussy spasmed around him, raw and swollen, still aching from everything she’d endured in the past twenty-four hours.
Pain lanced through her with each bounce, overstretched skin and bruises being pounded from the inside. Her whole body flinched with the impact, even as she clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, the muscles in her thighs already burning while arousal shot through her.
“Permission to come,” he told her. “You don’t have to ask while we’re out here. Not tonight.”
She clung to his shoulders, letting him do the work, the rhythm slow enough she could sink into it — except everything hurt. Her pussy was too raw, her thighs ached, and every thrust sent sharp little flares of pain through her sore flesh.
And yet.
His mouth found hers, warm and sure. Nothing but the brutal jackhammer of his cock slamming into her, the rough scrape of his stubble, the bruising stretch where she could barely take him. The pain didn’t retreat, it sharpened the pleasure, honed it until her whole body thrummed with unbearable sensation.
Her release built on a long, aching climb, Boone’s hands firm on her hips, his gaze locked on hers like he could see the moment her body fractured. The first ripple hit and her mouth fell open in a cry that never quite made it past his lips. He didn’t give her the mercy of closing the distance to hide in his kiss — just held her there, bare, shaking, while her pussy spasmed around him, each contraction jagged and sweet and close to too much.
She sagged against him, wrecked.
He didn’t follow her over the edge. His mouth curved the slightest bit. “Think I want your ass after all,” he said, lifting her off him.
