Page 115 of Werewolves and Witches AU

Pride and love fill my wolf at his declaration. Freeing an arm, I wipe the sweat-soaked strands of platinum-blond hair off my new mate’s beautiful face. “I’m not done with ye yet, Pup.”

In answer, Milo clenches, and I growl. He laughs again, and that movement is more intense this time.

I kiss over my mark on the junction of his neck and shoulder, amazed to see the scars instantly forming and turning silver, just like they might if he were an omega. That sight, of my mating mark forever on Milo’s skin, does things to me, and I grind my knot up into him.

Milo’s eyes flutter shut. “Ungh,” is all he can manage.

Settling him close, and into what I hope is a comfortable position, I try and reassure him about what happens next. “Yer probably going to sleep soon, mating can take it out of ye, but yer safe. I’ll keep ye safe. Always.”

I seal that vow with a kiss to Milo’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips.

He kisses me back eagerly, but his speech is a little slurred when he asks, “Lemme see.”

Helping support the weight of his head, I ask him, “See what?”

Grey eyes, almost silver, struggle to focus. “My mark… lemme see.”

My smile is wide; my mate is perfect. “When my knot goes down, and after a power nap, I’ll gladly show ye. It’s beautiful on ye, Milo.”

I trace the perfect crescent-shaped bite with a reverent touch, and goosebumps break out over his skin. Milo’s eyes roll and cross, before he refocuses and shakes his head, triggering another spasm in my knot. We both groan.

“Meant your mark… silly.”

“My mark?”

Milo, evidently done talking, takes my head in his hands and tilts it over, stretching out my neck.

“It’s the Luna del Lupo!” he gasps.

“The what? Pup, yer not making sense.”

Milo smiles and nods, eyes still on my neck. He’s happy and sated—I can feel it through our bond. “I’m not a wolf, but I wanted to mark you in return. To show my claim on you. So I cast a spell, and now you have my mark. The Luna del Lupo.”

He allows his head to finally flop onto my shoulder, and his words turn over in my mind. My mate marked me with magic? How’s that even possible?

But I know it’s true when Milo’s lips close over it in a kiss, because it’s like a direct line to his soul.

Every cell in my body tunes into my mate, who I can tell has now passed out. I cradle him close.

Protect. Mate. Mine.

39

Behave Yerself

Milo

Rowan’s short beard is still wet from our shower. It dampens his T-shirt he insisted I wear when he sucks another bruising kiss onto my neck. I managed to count seven in the steamed-up bathroom mirror—not including my beautiful silver bite mark—before he scooped me up and carried me off. This is going to become a thing, I can tell.

Not that I’m mad about it. I secretly enjoy that he likes to be around me so much that he’ll just take me with him somewhere. Like into the kitchen. Because apparently, not even sex so mind-blowing that it makes me pass out is reason enough to forgo making dinner.

I swipe a tuxedo cookie from the countertop as I sway my way into the pantry to stuff my face in secret.

“I saw that, Pup.”

“Shore wot?” I mumble, unconvincingly, around the crunchy mouthful.

“What indeed. Yer in here so I can keep an eye on ye, but it seems that I need to keep ye occupied as well as supervised. Fetch me four potatoes and those neeps from the basket will ye?”