“Why?” Jett asks, sounding bewildered.
“Because he’s the alpha.”
I hold my breath when I look back at Fox, waiting to see what he’ll do now that the wolves have acknowledged him as their leader.
My heart squeezes when I see he’s not even looking at them. It’s as if they’re not there. He stares through the crowd, his blue eyes locked on mine alone, burning brighter than the leaping flames of the bonfire.
“I’m fine,” I hiss. “I’m truly feeling better by the second. You can put me down.”
Fox ignores me, not even bothering to grunt to indicate that he heard what I said as he carries me back through camp. Over his shoulder, I see Jett walking in the opposite direction. I assume that, now that the fight is over, he’s finally going after Connell.
Fox reaches the tent and steps inside, where he finally lowers me onto the bed. Immediately, I cast the muffling spell so no one will hear us. Fox glares daggers at me.
“What?” I ask defensively. “It’s not as if they don’t know I can do magic now.”
“A few minutes ago you were so exhausted you could barely fucking walk.”
“Like I said, I’m feeling better by the second,” I mutter, leaning down to unlace my boots. “Don’t worry about me.”
Fox growls, but I can’t interpret what he means. He tears his eyes from my face, and begins pacing back and forth across the small tent, furious energy rolling off him in waves. Maybe I’m not the one we should be worried about.
Fox is still covered in blood, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Most of the wounds that Viktor inflicted are closing up on their own, his accelerated healing doing a good job of patching him up before my eyes. There’s one rather deep gash on his side that looks suspiciously like the outline of teeth, but it doesn’t appear to have hit anything vital. Still, his eyes are wild and his breathing is shallow.
“Are you alright?” I ask, kicking my boots off and sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Maybe you should sit down.”
Fox is clearly having some kind of battle with himself. He doesn’t say anything, just gives a strange jerk of his head that’s neither a nod nor a shake.
I watch him prowl the length of the tent, muscles coiled tight beneath his skin. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and every time he turns, his eyes find me, wild and desperate.
A low growl rumbles from his chest with each exhale. The need radiates from him in waves I can almost feel against my skin.
Acting on instinct, I stand and walk barefoot over to him, and press my face against his chest. He immediately stops moving, and his hands come up to run over my hips, then my waist. I nuzzle my face into his bare chest, brushing my lips and nose back and forth until he lets out a low growl.
“I can’t take this,” he mutters.
“You can’t take what?” I ask, rubbing my lips over his chest again, this time opening my mouth enough that the tip of my tongue brushes his skin.
He grips the back of my neck and jerks my head back so I’m forced to look at him. His eyes are completely black, the blue iris eclipsed entirely. Another growl escapes his throat. “You’re mine.”
A shiver of pleasure slithers down my spine. “I’m what?” I manage to whisper.
“Mine. I will fucking kill anyone who touches you.”
I try to answer, but all that comes out is a whimper. The way he’s growling makes my toes curl and my core throb with need.
Fox doesn’t seem entirely rational right now and I’m not sure I care as he reaches down and grips me between my legs, feeling the wetness already soaking through my leggings. He shoves my waistband down so he can drag his fingers through my wetness. I wriggle, kicking my leggings off entirely, my legs moving wider of their own accord.
Fox withdraws his fingers from my core and sucks them into his mouth. “This is mine.”
I whimper. “Prove it.”
He reaches down and grips my thighs, lifting me into the air. My legs instinctively wrap around him, my core sliding against the hard planes of his chest, leaving a slick trail across his skin. I jostle against him with every step, sending sparks through my core.
The mattress creaks as Fox sits on the edge, then rolls onto his back, taking me with him. I straddle his chest, my knees suddenly pressing into the bed on either side of his ribs. I reach for the hem of my top, stripping it over my head.
Fox stares up at me, his gaze heated, pupils blown so wide the blue of his irises have vanished. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of my thighs, leaving half-moon impressions as he drags my body forward until I’m sitting on his collarbones with my legs spread and my center right in front of his face.
I watch Fox’s eyes dart back and forth between my exposed center and the fading bite mark he put on my thigh the other day. He tilts his head, and I feel his hot breath against my skin before his tongue drags over the mark, sending shivers up my spine.
