Page 134 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“So, yer not complaining then?”

A laugh burst from my chest. “No, definitely no complaints on that front.”

It was then I felt the knot inside me begin to soften. I sighed, perfectly content. A moment later, he slipped free, then propped himself up, repositioning my body to examine me. His head was inches from my pussy.

My cheeks heated with embarrassment. “Is this like, wolf protocol or something?”

He hummed, his eyes flicking up to mine. “Like seeing my come drip out of ya, is all. Proof you’re mine.”

“Possessive wolf,” I teased, though heat curled through me at his words.

“Your possessive wolf.” He swiped his fingers through his seed and began massaging it into my skin, pushing some of it back inside me.

Fuck.

It was one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced.

“How do ye feel?”

“Good. A little sore, maybe. But…good.” It was an understatement. Because I felt incredible.

He leaned over me. “Let me see the bite.”

“Oh. Right.” I’d almost forgotten about it. Because it didn’t hurt anymore, strangely enough.

He gently tilted my head, examining where his teeth had broken skin. “Already healed.”

“Is that…normal?”

I was a witch but superhuman healing abilities didn’t come with that.

“For a claiming bite? Yes. Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

“I want to see it.” I tried to push up but his hand landed on my chest, pushing me back down.

“Later, Rebecca. I’m not done with you yet.” Then he crawled over me until he was cradled between my thighs. He captured my lips with his, then pushed inside me with a single, easy slide.

32

The pumpkin guts were cold and slimy between my fingers as I scooped out another handful, depositing them into the large metal bowl between us. Across the kitchen island, Axel worked on his own pumpkin with the kind of focus I’d come to expect from him—the same way he approached woodworking, cooking, or taking me apart in bed.

Which he did daily.

“You’re going to lose, you know,” I said, eyeing his progress. He’d already cleaned out his pumpkin and was sketching a design on the surface.

“That so?” He didn’t look up, but I caught the hint of a smile.

“I’m very competitive about Halloween.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he deadpanned. When he looked up, his eyes were warm with amusement. I hardly noticed that one was marred, I’d grown so used to his appearance.

“Har har,” I shot back.

“We’ll see who’s laughing soon enough, lass.”

“Yeah. Me. When my creation beats yours.”

“But I’m a craftsman. This is literally what I do.”