Page 48 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

He’d claimed her mouth, been ready to claim all of her. To knot her and fuck her and bite her and mark her. There was no going back after something like that. She would have belonged to him. Tied to him permanently.

His.

Fuck.

That sounded good.

Mine, his wolf growled, trying to push back to the front of his mind. Pawing at him restlessly as the witch in question set off through the forest, her map in hand.

He followed at a safe distance, lugging the tote holding the remains of their picnic. A fucking picnic. Like this was a romance movie or some shite.

His jaw tightened.

Thank fuck she’d bitten his lip—like a little kitten. It had snapped him out of his haze. Otherwise, he’d have been balls deep inside her. And she would have welcomed it.

Because there was no mistaking the scent of her arousal. The sounds of her little moans. The way she squirmed against him.

Everything about her made him want to taste her. Want to slide those tight fucking leggings down her legs and lap up every drop of her. Then make her come so he could lap that up too.

“You know, you don’t need to follow me around, Wolfie,” she called over her shoulder. “Perfectly capable of doing this myself.”

He grunted but said nothing. Didn’t rise to her bait.

The truth was, he couldn’t leave her calming presence. Not when he was feeling this volatile. There was a chance he’d return home and snap. That wasn’t a risk he could take.

So he followed her instead.

“What segments are you looking at today?” he found himself asking.

“Does it matter?”

He sighed, biting his tongue.

Eventually she reached a rocky outcropping. She made her way around it, investigating. He’d been here numerous times. Knew there wasn’t a cave opening.

So he simply watched her as she assessed.

The way she unconsciously tucked the same strand of hair behind her left ear every few minutes. How she chewed the corner of her bottom lip, worrying it until it was pink and slightly swollen. She had a habit of talking to herself under her breath. She probably didn’t realize she was doing it. He wasn’t going to tell her either, because it was fucking adorable.

He loved seeing her here, moving through his forest, stepping over roots and ducking under branches. The sight made his wolf rumble with satisfaction. He intended to soak up every moment.

Because once she got her magic back, why would she want to stay with him? A broken wolf with an expiration date? She’d be powerful enough to stand up to Ambrose Blackthorn. Brilliant enough to go on to whatever physics career she wanted. She’d have no reason to tie herself to him, live in isolation, count down the remaining days until he cracked.

Which was why he needed to keep his distance.

That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the opportunity she presented. He would use these days, as many as he could, to be close to her. To let his wolf be at peace, if only for a little while.

“So…” He cut through the silence. “How’d you come by the little snacks?”

“Basil and Sage.” She ran her hand along part of a rock. No cave entrance in sight.

“Basil and Sage,” he said, prompting her.

She didn’t answer.

“How did you come by Basil and Sage?” he repeated, trying to break the ice that had frozen between them.

“Adopted them,” she finally answered. Then she pulled out her map, made a note, tucked it away, and left him standing there.