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Having her there was surreal.
My time away from her had been torture—but I’d finally found relief.
She smelled amazing.
Felt even better.
And hearing her call herself mine?
It was the icing on the cake.
I was never leaving her side again. The thunder would have to get over it.
And my brothers would have to bring us more shit, because I wasn’t letting her go hungry because of me.
I was never going to watch her suffer again, the way I’d had to while she was in heat.
It took a long while to doze off given the pain and discomfort of my situation. But, eventually, I drifted off with her against my chest.
Elodie’s soft moan dragged me out of sleep.
I wrestled my eyes open, my grip on her ass tightening when she rocked her hips, dragging her core against me.
The scent of her desire was thick in the air.
I breathed it in deeply.
The smell had hardened my cock long before it woke me, and it felt fucking amazing when she rocked her hips more.
Moaned again.
One of my hands slid up to her hair, gripping the soft strands. The other remained on her backside, pulling her harder against me.
Her breathing was quick.
Her body was flushed, and sweating.
And the smell of her need only thickened.
She rocked against me harder, one of her hands curling over one of my wounds.
I grimaced at the pain of it. “Careful, Fireball.”
Elodie didn’t respond.
Her fingertips dug in deeper, and I winced. “Fireball?”
Still no response.
I lifted my head and pulled her hair to the side.
My forehead creased when I realized the problem.
She was sleeping.
She’d never had a wet dream before. Not even in the worst part of heat.
Something was going on.
