She quirked an eyebrow and nodded. “I warned you not to run yourself down, and I meant it.”
Ash shook his head and gritted his teeth as he spoke. “When is this big damn wedding, anyway?”
“June 15.”
“That’s months away! You said a short engagement!”
She arched an eyebrow. “Darlin’, this is the shortest goddamn engagement of anyone in the DuChamp clan since the cavewomen used a bone needle to hand sew a dress out of a woolly mammoth hide. You should be thanking your lucky stars I’m not meaning June 15 of next year.”
He exhaled. “I’ll go along with your ridiculous little games, Rosemary. But in the meantime, you’d better get in the bedroom, bend over that bed and hold on tight. This wolf is pent up.”
She happily sprinted to the bedroom with the wolf not far behind; her body was already aching for his touch.
* * *
Ash
This is insane, Ash thought as he bent his woman over the bed. He couldn’t pop her cherry. He had accepted that. It had been a pretty hot little game, knowing they could do everything but that one thing until the wedding night.
But then, on top of that, he had agreed to restrain himself from touching or tasting his favorite part of her tight little body as some kind of twisted punishment for hauling ass in the middle of dinner with her parents. He hadn’t loved that idea, but it was now mid-March and he could wait it out until after Lent, whenever that was.
But now, this crazy-ass fiancée of his had extended the pussy moratorium completely until the wedding night in June. But what could he do? Get to know her. Soul, mind, and body. Consider yourself lucky that she freely and gleefully grants you access to her ass, which is way beyond what most can expect from a virgin fiancée.
He lubed her up and pushed in slowly. She gasped at first and then sighed as he gradually stretched her out. Little by little, checking in on her comfort, he pushed in deeper, stretching her more. He scanned the soft skin of her back. Rosemary was leaning over the bed, looking back at him with the expression of an evil temptress. Accepting his cock in this way might seem like the act of a beta female, but she knew she was the one with the upper hand. Truly, as she was bringing herself to the edge with her fingers.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
Fuck him, because her pussy, the part of her he really wanted—that part of her body that the wolf could home in on from ten miles away—was off-limits to him for months.
She did have a beautiful ass, and cupping her breasts from behind was deliciously hot. But damn, the psychological torture of knowing what he was and was not allowed to do…it was too much.
It was too much for his psyche. Too much for his emotions.
Too much to hold back the wolf.
Shit.
He let out a growl as he thrust in.
She moaned, and the flesh on her back broke out in goosebumps at the sound of the beast.
His noises further teased the primal forces that battled to get out. He felt the change beginning to happen. He felt every hair on his body stand on end and his mouth start to water.
The beast was coming out, and the beast was also…coming.
He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it. But his Rosemary was egging him on with her primal noises—a feline sort of chirping, like a cat waiting for the right moment to pounce on its prey.
Ash opened his eyes at the moment of their mutual ecstasy and got the shock of his life.
It only happened for a flash, but he saw it happen. Both he and his girl had shapeshifted, right there in the bedroom. He was the wolf. His girl was the panther. And they were together. And then, in less than half a second, they became human again.
This told him everything he needed to know about her little games. She was tormenting herself as well as him.
What a delectable, twisted little creature he was about to marry.
It was going to be a long, torturous slog until June for the wolf.
Chapter Twelve
Rosemary
They say curiosity killed the cat, but Rosemary was beginning to think the old saying actually meant the cat died from the curiosity itself.
She was dying to spy on her man, just the way he’d done to her.
So, on the next full moon, Rosemary did what she needed to do. She decided to follow the wolf pack to their hunting grounds. She knew it was not the best idea. Wolves have an outrageous sense of smell; he would know she was there even if she stayed hidden. But she had to see him. She missed him. And she missed Pen. And she wanted to know everything about the clan she was getting herself mixed up in.
What she found out by following them that night was that the wolves do not go to a specific hunting ground, per se. Instead, parked outside of the Wolfpack Tavern, she watched the menagerie of huge wolves pass by the far end of the alley, one after another. She’d tried to prepare herself for it, but the dark, shadowy figures made her blood run cold. Not with revulsion, but fear and wonder.
There was nothing she could do but follow on foot.
Up and down the side streets and alleyways she followed the wolves, doing her best to keep her distance. The group was led by a large, silvery gray wolf, which seemed older and seemed to know exactly where they were all headed.
Rosemary prepared herself to see her future husband feast on rats and garbage, but as they approached a more populated neighborhood, that was not what she saw.
Unlike her panther clan, the wolf pack split up. At first, Rosemary did not know which one to follow. She closed her eyes and breathed in
