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I know I’m blushing, I can feel the heat rising to my face, neck, and any visible area to showcase my mortification. Thanks, body, I truly love you.
Honestly, I don’t know how to explain what I’m reading. Not because I’m embarrassed by it, but because how do I tell him I’m wanting to sit here and read literal porn on the page?
Okay, fine, there’s a plot to this book so it’s not erotica, but it’s close enough. I’m glad I’ve not got to the dirty parts yet, because I need to be alone for those.
No way do I want my mates scenting my arousal.
The humans in these stories have it easy—they can get horny in public, and nobody will be any wiser. Us shifters? Nope.
I’m a virgin wolf shifter, and at the age of 24, that’s unheard of. I’ve been in a unique position since I’ve not had a connection to my wolf for the last six years, but it won’t be long before I go into heat. I think.
I should probably schedule a doctor’s appointment to get that checked out.
Either way, I’m preparing myself.
You know, with the most educational books I can find—omega rockstars in heat, ultimately losing themselves to their baser desires as they beg their Alphas for a knot.
It sounds like heaven for my wolf and I—you know, if heaven is terrifying and filled with an orgasmic bliss.
“Never mind,” Atticus says, letting the subject drop. Maybe he smells my embarrassment or unease over the subject, or maybe he’s gotten too excited. He clambers out of the minibus and gestures for me to follow him
Orson comes and opens my door, giving me a hand out as if the tiny jump I’d have to do would harm me in any way. Once I’m flat on the floor, he kisses my head, and there’s an air of ease around him.
I’m not surprised that he’s calm. Out here, we’re alone for probably miles, and it means there are no threats about. Plus, his bear normally likes solitary time, so this should be good for him.
“We’ve got the whole weekend just for us,” he says, and his gravelly tone has that same ease about it. He seems the happiest about our trip, but the others are all pleased, too.
I wonder whose idea it was.
I’m not going to ask because I don’t want this to be a competitive thing, and with these men, I know it will be, but it’s a really nice idea, and I think it’ll be good to get us away after the shit show of the last few weeks. A whole weekend without anyone bothering us, giving us plenty of time to talk and bond properly.
I might even shut my phone off. Well, it’s not like anyone other than George—
“Shit!” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands as I start to panic. I’ve got a therapy session with George tomorrow.
One I need to function.
“What’s wrong?” is peppered at me from all of my mates. Mal shifts, his giant golden tiger a sure threat, and Atticus lets out a loud roar to warn off intruders, as Voss starts scanning the area. If he were in his shifted form, his ears would be pricked back as his beady eyes searched. They’re all ready for an attack, all ready to defend me from harm.
But I worried them for no reason.There’s no attack coming.
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. I’ve set them on edge for no reason. “I… there’s no danger.”
“What’s wrong then, baby girl?” Fin asks, the only one who has relaxed at my declaration. He gives me a look of pure adoration, one that I barely understand, but my wolf preens under. He shaved before we’d gone out, the difference between his chin fluff this morning and now is very apparent. His barely there moustache above his lips is still as thin as ever, but the hair along his jawline is more stubble like now.
He raises an eyebrow when I still don’t speak.
Excuse me for getting distracted by how that stubble would feel along the more sensitive areas of my body.
“I’ve got a therapy session tomorrow morning.”
That settles the rest of them, except Orson. He’s still listening intently, his eyes scanning the surrounding woods, and I can only imagine the different traps he’ll be setting to guarantee our safety. I rest my hand on his arm, providing comfort but leaving him to his overprotective nature.
Malachi comes over to my feet, plopping his giant butt so close to my shoes, and lets out a little huff. He reaches mid-chest and nudges me for attention. Taking the hint, I run my free hand through his fur.
“We’ve already sorted that for you,” Atticus says, giving me a smirk. It’s as if his smirk is saying did you really doubt me?
A frown fills my face as the panic that had built within me threatens to drown me. “You’ve cancelled it?”
