“You feel that, mate?” he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “You feel how much I want to lock myself inside your tight little ass?”
I could only whimper in response as he continued to thrust, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. The pressure built, a slow, intense burn that stole my breath. It was almost too much, but the pleasure that came with it was blinding. The feeling of being stretched so wide, of being filled so completely, was an addiction I never wanted to kick.
With one final, brutal thrust, he seated himselfto the hilt. The sensation was a white-hot explosion of pure ecstasy. Nox’s knot swelled to its full, intimidating size, locking him inside me, and I screamed around Griff’s cock, the sound muffled and desperate.
Eamon’s fingers pressed a bit harder on my clit, his firm touch sending me spiraling over the edge and making me jump off the deep end into an abyss of agonizing euphoria.
I came yet again with a strangled cry, feeling a violent, exquisite wave of pleasure that left me breathless and shaking.
With a hoarse moan, Nox’s cock erupted inside me, and I shuddered with pleasure as he filled me up.
Griff followed a moment later with a guttural roar, his hot seed spurting down my throat. I swallowed, my body trembling with the aftershocks of my own orgasm, the taste of him salty and musky on my tongue.
For a long, blissful moment, the world consisted of nothing but the pounding of our hearts, the ragged sounds of our breathing, and the exquisite feeling of being completely claimed.
They’d made me theirs.
CHAPTER 13
The next day…
Griff
The planning hall was filling up with people. It was a wide room within the Watch base with a scarred table, battered benches, and a wall that still held the papery ghosts of old maps. Someone had hung some kerosene lanterns at the corners, which brightened the room since there were only a few windows letting in some natural light.
Zara’s pack had come back over first thing in the morning, looking worn but still somehow mildly energetic, with Magnus carrying himself like an alpha wolf, Tobias flanking him like a shadow, Callum with his ever-present half-smile, Thorne watching everything with a cold focus, and Killian looking too cheerful for a man who’d been killing ferals just a few days ago.
Sera and her pack arrived a little later. Logan looked like he hadn’t taken his eyes off the tree line once. Edward had that calm, hard soldier stillness even though he wasn’t in uniform. Jamie looked like he’d already made peace with the fact that nothing was going to be easy ever again. Aidan and Declan just positioned themselves where they could see doors and windows and exchanged looks with each other that spoke of their brotherly bond.
Tamsin sat on a bench near the table, not in the center of the room like someone trying to dominate the room, but everyone’s attention kept drifting back to her anyway. She wore simple clothes now that had been borrowed and patched by someone. Her hair was tied back, her knife sheathed on her thigh, but everything about her screamed leader.
Eamon sat beside her with a notebook and a pencil, already writing. Bishop leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, posture composed and still, eyes scanning the room. Nox prowled the perimeter of the room like a dog guarding his territory. Elias stood near the table, quiet and watchful, letting everyone settle.
I stayed close to Tamsin without hovering. Close enough that if she moved even just a little bit, I’d sense it, but far enough that she didn’t feel caged.
It wasn’t lost on me that this was the first real strategy meeting with all three packs in one place and it was bound to be a doozy.
“We can’t stay here,” Tamsin finally announced.
The room quieted down several seconds later. Even Killian stopped fidgeting to look straight at her.
Tamsin’s gaze swept the circle once. “That feral attack wasn’t a random surge of wolves. It was a message from London. They can reach us here. That means the Isle of Man isn’t a safe place to regroup anymore. It means that every batch of wolves they ship out of London set for Ireland can arrive at our shores and attack us, over and over again until they destroy us.”
Magnus nodded once, slow. “Aye. I don’t fancy waiting around for a second wave. Or a third.”
Tamsin leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees. “We can rebuild fences. We can set traps. We can rotate patrols. But none of that matters if London can manufacture an attack whenever they please. They can create as many feral wolves as they want. As things are, we don’t stand a chance against that.”
Sera’s eyes narrowed. “What? How are they making feral wolves?”
Tamsin glanced to Bishop and gave a curt nod. He pushed off the wall and stepped up front without making a fuss.
“I used to live in London. When I was there, I followed a woman named Helena Voss,” he said. “She’s one of Lord Marcus Ashcroft’s people. She’s a scientist. Works on containment policy.”
Several faces tightened at the name Ashcroft. He was a well-known politician in London, even in a place like this.
Bishop continued. “I overheard some things and I followed her underground into a restricted facility. There, I saw a number of wolves restrained on tables with masks and tubing. They were pumping an infectious inhalant through the masks. It made them agitated in under a minute. Theybecame violent, showcasing the kind of behavior London points to and says, ‘See? They all go feral.’”
Zara went very still. Sera’s jaw clenched so hard I heard her teeth scrape together.
