He swung his hand in the air, tracing a circle in the darkness, a corresponding tightness building inside me as it filled up with the cold, white glow of the moon, its surface pocked and pitted.
“Babe?”
My eyes flicked open for real this time, the morning light flooding in through the curtains to caress his face, Micah’s, not Aidan’s. But where Aidan had been, Micah was—between my thighs, ready and hard for me, but not in me. He hung over me with a look of concern, but that faded when I grasped his thick length, swiping him through the dripping moisture between my thighs. His lips fell open as mine did, gasping as I dragged him closer.
“Uh…fuck!” he yelped as he sheathed himself inside me, and I didn’t allow myself the opportunity to adjust. He was thick, long, his knot swollen tight, and I ached for it, clawing at him when he resisted, then dragging him forward, both of us groaning as his knot was forced in. It was only then that whatever devil was inside me was appeased. I just stared at him, wide-eyed and panting.
“I don’t want to fucking hurt you, Paige,” he ground out, obviously holding himself back by a string.
I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and tugged him down until I could feel the weight of him on top of me, needing that deep proprioceptive feedback right now.
“You’re not hurting me,” I rasped out, unable to stop from undulating my hips into his, a long groan coming as a result. “I need this, need you.”
And that was the truth of it, perhaps what the Father Wolf was clumsily trying to make me see. The status of my relationships with each of them was growing, changing, but the need? That deep down ache to feel them on me, under me, in me, to breathe them in, suck the taste from them, swallow them whole, that never stopped. It just got better, harder, deeper, sweeter, like it did right now. My back arched as he finally succumbed, pulsing inside me, his pace picking up.
“I can’t be gentle,” he snarled, and I smiled.
“You’re wrong, you know,” I replied, throwing my arms back in complete surrender. “You’re not a thug, you’re my wild boy. Be wild with me.”
That savage twist of his smile, picked out in perfect detail by the white morning light, I liked that very much.
“Yeah? Well, I said I wanted your teeth in my throat when you took my knot.”
We’d talked about this, been sensible, laid out a path towards developing our relationship, so why did my lips pull back over my teeth, my fangs snicking down? Because Micah never looked so bloody alive as then. He hadn’t marked me, the god riding him had, but he was left to deal with the consequences.
“Go deep,” I groaned. “Go hard.”
His hands cradled my skull, his cock doing just that, making me gasp with just how much, and I pushed his hair to one side, revealing that tanned column of flesh. For a moment I just felt everything—him inside me, the rising wave of pleasure threatening to drown me, the growing swell of his knot, my body working, shifting, seeking.
My jaws snapped around a fold of his skin, my fangs piercing his skin as he pierced me, blood rushing into my mouth as I marked him.
“Mine,” I gasped as I pulled back, swiping my tongue along his skin right before I screamed. The world became fire, burning me whole, and in it was him, jetting helplessly inside me, his cries twinning with mine. A door slammed open, my mates stumbling in, stopping to take in what was happening. I met them with a pant, then a bloody smile.
Chapter 40
I was tender and a little sore when I got up, but that was nothing on now. We stood inside a training facility with Greta and her coven all surrounding us as Margaret and I sparred.
It felt like years since she and I had fought. Margaret was so bloody light on her feet, it seemed like they barely touched the ground before she was off again, dodging out of my way, pulling me forward and after her. I knew she was trying to tire me out before delivering a fucking hiding, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Greta and a few of the older ladies sat on the benches by our mat, talking amongst themselves about our performance. I caught fingers being waved, hands cutting through the air, but I couldn’t pay them too much attention. When I did, Margaret attacked.
She zeroed in when my eyes slid sideways, trying to work out what the ladies wanted from this, my gaze jerking back when I saw something coming at me out of the corner of my eyes. Thank god I had my hands up, as I managed to block her first punch, then her second, before swiping out myself and trying to land a hit. She jerked back and away from me, readying her next sequence, when Greta stood up.
“She has been trained and trained well, I can see that. We need no further demonstration,” she told us, then looked over at the door as a group of men came in. I saw Jian, one of Margaret’s mates and waved. He came into the gym sometimes to train with Zack. He didn’t wave in return, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Now we show you the power of an ulva,” Greta said.
She nodded to Margaret, who now stood before the group of her men. I watched her do something I’d seen her do plenty of times before—centre herself. Her hands were clasped together as she took one breath, then another. Her eyes were open but unfocussed. She’d taught me to do the same thing, to clear your mind,
