She could feel the way his actions had affected her. She could even name them.
“So the shirts and the hair and the breakfast,” she said, too breathlessly. Like she was solving a puzzle—and apparently she had it exactly right. He was already nodding.
“More than that, honestly. I would have probably done those things anyway, but there was other stuff. Weirder stuff, that I kind of pushed down. Like wearing my glasses even though I don’t need them anymore. Or wanting to bring you little gifts that I would never usually get you, like bottles of vitamins and weird crap you can make a nest out of. God, I should have guessed when it was a fucking nest,” he groaned.
And yeah, he had a point.
But really, had she been any better?
She’d never been this horny in her life, and she hadn’t guessed the reason for it. She’d just thought it was due to old feelings and weird happenings and him being all filthy and thirsty for her. But clearly it wasn’t. Thank god it wasn’t, it wasn’t. She wasn’t taking advantage of things he didn’t really feel, or giving in to her own secret desires.
It was just weird werewolf mating urges.
And he was feeling the same. That was why he was trying to make her want him.
And none of it was their fault, no way, not in the least. “Look, even if you were doing those things because of werewolf hormonebullshit, you couldn’t have understood that it would actually infect me. And even if it has, well. I mean it’s not like this is going to kill us,” she insisted.
Then she tried to laugh, she really did.
But she felt him tense up, and somehow knew that he was wincing and, oh Jesus Christ, was that the witch tingle happening? “Oh mygodyou’re saying it might actually kill us. You’re actually saying that. You’re telling me that if we don’t get out of this extreme deranged horniness for each other, we will kick the bucket. Like some sort of weirdStar Trekian-fuck-or-die-fated-mates-type situation,” she said, and got absolutely zero nopes in response. Not one single no.
He just fuckingwelp-ed.
“That’s about the size of it, yeah,” he said, as her mind tried to race right off the edge of some terrible cliff.
“Okay. Okay cool. Cool cool cool. That’s fine.”
“That doesn’t sound like you think it’s fine.”
“Even if it isn’t, maybe I can fix it.”
“You don’t seem too sure about that.”
“Because my brain is currently being addled by werewolf-sex nonsense, Seth. As soon as we’re out of this wardrobe it will go away—or I can help it go away somehow—and I will feel much more certain about things. So make sure the guys are really gone, and open this thing up.”
She nudged him toward the door—even though touching him at all felt like being briefly electrocuted. But it was worth it, because he immediately moved to do what she had suggested. He listened, and then he pressed his hand against the door. Firmly, in a way that should have opened it.
But for some reason, he had to do it again.
And again, harder.
Really hard. Scarily hard.
“Seth, please tell me this thing is not fucking jammed shut.”
“I want to, but I can’t. Because it seriously is.”
“But you have werewolf strength. Just use that.”
“I am trying. Doesn’t it look like I’m trying?”
“It looks like you’re sweating and straining and all the muscles in your arms are really standing out, oh they are really visible and they are so thick and good, and oh my god this is unbearable, this is the most mortifying thing ever, oh I have no idea how you stand it,” she said, before she even knew any of that was in her to say.
The words simply burst out of her, as if them naming what was happening had dropped the guardrails she’d put up. She no longer had to worry that he might disapprove of her behavior, or that she was taking advantage of his hormonal state, or that she was actually into him. Her only motivator was supernatural werewolf magic.
So why bother pretending? Hell, she wasn’t even sure if shecouldpretend at this point.
And nor could he, it seemed. She could feel him shaking. She heard him groan when she said “thick” and “good.” Then just to round things off, he said, “Well, currently I manage by masturbating seventeen times in a row.” So it really seemed that now was the terrible-but-unfathomably-hot-honesty portion of the proceedings.
