Please tell me it’s not what I think it is.
I slowly look down and . . .
Ugh, gross. You’ve got to be kidding me.
I peer at the bottom of my boot. My nose burns.
Hold on. Is this... Is thisherpoop?
Yep. That’s hers alright. She defecates in the woods like a true wolf. A woman after my own heart.My wolf drools.
Appalled, I pause, then shake my head.There’s something wrong with you.
My wolf flicks his tail, dismissing me.What can I say? I like how she isn’t ashamed to take up old mannerisms. Plus, you’ve been pissing me off with the whole “we can’t have mate” thing.
Well, I hope you two are very happy together shitting in the woods like uncivilized...I scrape my foot on the tree again.Feral.And again.Beasts.
Ugh. It’s not coming off. Who just shits in the woods like that?
Um . . . wolves?my wolf judges me.
Ones that aren’t housebroken, maybe.
But... we shit in the woods,he counters.
That’s different. We bury our shit like civilized beasts do.I scrape my boot on the tree, then lift my foot to check the sole.
Great. I’m going to have to throw these out.
My disgust is erased when a moan escapes her lips.
She turns onto her back. Then, quickly tossing to her other side, she moans again. This time, raising her chest to the night sky and turning over. Which you’d think would be less tempting.
Wrong.
Now I can see her stupid little perfect ass and the perfect dimples on her backside beneath her little tank top. Blood rushes to my penis again.
Aaaand... there goes my shorts. Okay. Time to go.
As I make a sneaky exit, one thing is for certain: her body responds to me. Even though she’s never set eyes on me, she senses me. Her wolf is likely whimpering in agony for me. Unable to rest when we’re apart. If I can’t kill her yet, I want her to know peace, if only, so she knows true unrest when I’m gone.
And that’s just the start of all I have planned for her.
Chapter FOUR
Jay
Jeez, Casey is active this morning. At just five-years-old, Jeff’s daughter is already running the show. It’s her world. I’m just living in it. Her mother was killed before they were cast out from their pack. Casey witnessed her mother’s death and has been struggling with depressive symptoms ever since. She was—and is—a cute pup, but most people thought pups were cutest when they were happy.
Casey’s not your typical pup, by no fault of her own. Not everyone has the patience for her, another reason I was more than happy to let Jeff take the credit for the alpha kill. With his rise in station, Casey drew more tolerance. His kindness might have been fake, but the rogues were at least nicer.
Like me, she is often depressed. Casey’s crying spells appear from nowhere. She grieves her mother. In the eyes of others, she is problematic, hyper and not well-behaved. But it’s clear she is traumatized, sensitive, perfectly imperfect and deserves love and protection at all costs.
Casey tugged on my shirt, pleading for me to run through the forest with her until I finally gave in. Casey was pretty convincing five-year-old. It’s hard to say no to her.
Casey runs and weaves through the trees, giggling as I chase her. It’s her favorite game.
When did she get so fast?
