Troy’s werewolf form is terrifying. He’s almost seven feet tall, and even though he’s hunched over, the bulk of his muscles is clearly visible. His fangs are white and long, his eyes blazing golden, and the claws on his hands and feet should send me running.
So why am I still here?
He’s watching me closely as if I’m prey and he’s the top predator, which is entirely true. But I can’t move because he ran away from me—from us—when he felt the urge to shift like this, and I couldn’t help it. It hurt to see him go. So I followed him, deciding to ask why he was hiding himself after he had no problem bringing me to an orgasm earlier.
He’s the only one of the four of us who hasn’t gotten off, and for some reason, I feel guilty about it. I know it’s dumb, but whatever is going on here, in this snowy alternate reality, I’m certain it’s meant to be enjoyable forallof us.
Now I know the answer to one of my questions. Troy hid from me because he didn’t want me to see him in his half form.
“Oh, Troy,” I whisper.
His chest and arms are crisscrossed with gnarly old scars, their silvery lines visible on every part of his body. His furry, pointed ear is missing a chunk of the lobe, as if something bit him, tearing the flesh right off.
Seeing my stare, he snarls, showing me his back, but all that does is expose more of the damage. His tail, turned down in anger, is shorter than I’d expect, and seems to be missing about a hand of length. His back, though furred all over with sandy-brown hair, also bears the signs of abuse.
“I don’t want your pity,” he rasps, his guttural voice reverberating around the room. “Go away and let me deal with this on my own.”
Bythis, he means the raging erection currently clasped in his right fist. I saw it clearly before he moved to hide it from me. And maybe I should leave and give him the privacy he has demanded. But something tugs at my guts, a realization that if I go now, if I step out of the room and close the door behind me, Troy will never be comfortable revealing himself again.
So I go against my survival instinct, which is screaming at me to get the fuck away from the large, scary man, and move closer to Troy instead.
“No,” he groans. “Emma. You don’t understand?—”
“You won’t hurt me,” I whisper fiercely. “I know you won’t.”
It’s as if my brain has accepted that supernatural creatures exist, and now I’m no longer afraid, not even of the scarred, tormented man in front of me.
“You’ll tell me about the scars another day,” I insist. “But let me help you.”
He swivels so suddenly, I jerk back on impulse. He towers over me and finally rolls back his shoulders to straighten to his full height.
He’s fucking magnificent. A prime specimen, despite the superficial damage to his body. He has removed all his clothes,so his body is on display, and I know he’s doing it partly to scare me. His defiant expression tells me he’s still half convinced I’ll turn and run any moment now.
Instead, I close the distance between us and tentatively raise my hands. Slowly, I press my palm to the center of his chest. He drags in a deep inhale, sniffing the air.
“You’re scenting me, right?” I ask. “Do I smell afraid?”
He shakes his head, and some of the stubborn resistance in his gaze melts away, replaced by wonder. He lifts one big hand, the fingers tipped with black claws, and runs the pad of his thumb over my cheek. Then he wraps his arms around me, lightning quick, and drags my body all the way to his.
Suddenly, I’m plastered to his front, and the warmth of him is incredible. His hard cock pokes my stomach, but Troy is ignoring it for now, so I don’t grasp it either. He runs his nose along the edge of my jaw, sending shivers down my spine, then sniffs my hair. He hums in appreciation, the sound rumbling in his chest. Then his rough, long tongue swipes up my neck.
The last thing I should do is give this monster permission for more. But I do, leaning my head to the side to make more room for him. He rewards me by licking me again, then scrapes his fangs along my carotid.
I run my palms up his muscular arms to his shoulders and up into the mane of his hair—because his ruff is longer, like the hair he wears in his human form. It’s softer than an animal’s pelt, too, a silky texture unlike any I’ve ever felt, so I dig my fingers in, scratching my nails over his scalp.
He groans and throws his head back in pleasure, his hips jerking forward.
“You like that?” I murmur, grinning. “I’ll find all the things you like.”
He growls in my ear, and it’s the only warning I get before he hauls me up in his arms, swipes a hand over his desk toclear it, and lays me on top. Papers go flying, pens clatter to the floor, and I’ve never been this fucking exhilarated before. Troy is focused completely on me. His golden eyes warm with approval when I arch my back.
“Show me,” he demands.
In my lust-hazy state, it takes me a second to comprehend what he means. Then it hits me. He wants me to bare myself to him on my own. It must be a submission thing, because he could easily rip the clothes away from me, shred them with his claws and teeth. Yet he waits, his hands braced on either side of my hips.
I shimmy out of Sebastian’s boxers first, exposing my pussy to Troy. Then I sit up to tug the t-shirt off, too, and end up sitting naked on Troy’s desk, shivering slightly in the cool room.
He doesn’t speak for a long moment. His gaze devours me, his nostrils flaring as he draws in deep breaths. He brings one large, clawed hand to my neck and wraps his fingers around it. He squeezes slightly, not enough to hurt, only to assert his dominance. Then he guides me to lie back down, spreading me on the desk in front of him like an offering while he looms over me, naked and magnificent.
