Page 63 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

“Uh-uh,” he says, and tackles me.

His hands catch me around the waist, and in a blink, I’m under him. I look up and see him, his eyes burning so hot they send heat coursing through me. He reaches down for his trousers, and I push up, stretching my arms overhead, knowing the tree is right there, and if I can just touch—

He grabs my hips and yanks me away from the tree, and I keep squirming, grinning at him as he makes a sound that’s half laugh, half growl. He’s pushing between my legs, parting my knees, and I keep wriggling away, reaching for that tree, my grin telling him I’m not actually trying to escape—just to win—and the look on his face, delight and determination, tells me I am more than welcome to try, that he wants me to try, stretching this game to the last possible second—

And then he’s in me. I don’t know what to expect. In the heat of the game, I’d forgotten this part—that I’m a virgin, and I have heard stories, so many stories, about the horrors of the first time, and the reassurances that it will get better.

Without the game, I think I’d have dwelt on that, braced for it, but I’ve forgotten, and when he pushes in, there’s only the barest resistance. I’m ready for him. Beyond ready, and if I feel any discomfort at all, it’s like the discomfort of the cold, nothing except raw sensation, new and exhilarating.

I am, however, not the only one who forgot the virgin part. At that brief resistance, Bishop pauses, his eyes widening. I wrap my legs around him and reach to pull him in deeper, and he lets out the most gloriously ragged chuckle and then gives me what I want.

As much as I’ve thoroughly enjoyed all of our play, even when I lay there afterward, exhausted and sated, I couldn’t help feeling as if I had missed something. Feeling as if some need hadn’t quite been met, and now that he’s inside me, growling softly, lips parted, my own sounds rising to meet his, I realize what had truly been missing. Not the physical sensation but a deeper one. We are together, joined together, finally, in the most intimate and incredible way, and it feels glorious. Beyond glorious.

He moves inside me and I push against him, matching his strokes, matching his breathing, matching his growls and then matching his climax, both of us gripping each other, his head thrown back and then coming to mine, lips locking as the waves rock through us until we both drop, exhausted, to the ground.

He holds me tight for a moment, and then he lifts up, hands cupping my face.

“Caught you,” he says.

I smile. “You did.”

“I truly did.” He kisses me and then whispers, “And I could not possibly be happier.”

TWENTY-TWO

We’re still on the ground, though not where we’d been a few moments ago. Bishop has carried me to a sheltered spot. He’s also brought over his jacket and shirt to wrap them around me before wrapping himself around me, too, pulling me into his heat.

As he rubs my arms, I could tell him I’m warm already, but I don’t. I like to watch this part of him, the nurturing and considerate part, and I love how that switch can flip, from ordering me to undress in the cold to doing everything in his power to ensure I’m warm. It’s a quiet apology, but an unnecessary one.

Oh, I have heard of men who mistreat their lovers and then shower them with affection. But what we did was mutual, me granting him that power, knowing I was free to take it back at any time. A game we both enjoyed. But that won’t keep him from making up for it now, just so I don’t worry that it might have presaged a shift in our relationship.

“Thank you, Delia,” he says when we’re cuddled in again and I’m quietly casting more spells for his battered hands, to speed the healing process and relieve the pain. “I needed that. All of it.”

I smile up at him. “I know.”

He looks down at me. “That wasn’t how I intended our first night to be. I had a very clear vision of what I wanted.”

“And what did you envision?”

“A perfect wedding night. A big bed, piled high with blankets and pillows, and I would go slow, ensuring a gentle and loving first time.”

I consider. “That does sound lovely, but not what I would consider perfect.”

“And what would have been perfect for you?”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Being chased through the forest and taken in the grass, with a cool evening breeze and the song of night birds.” I smile up at him. “As I predicted, it was the ideal first time for a werewolf Alpha and his lycan mate.”

He laughs, the vibrations rumbling through me as he runs kisses up my throat. “You will still get the other one. The more human version.”

“Acceptable.”

“Also…” He goes quiet for a moment, sobering. “When I was collecting my clothing I realized that, in the heat of the chase, I did something unforgivable. When I said I wanted to give you that perfect night, everything prepared just so, I meant everything. I have always prided myself on taking precautions, and tonight that flew clear out of my head.”

He looks at me. “It will not happen again, and I only hope my apology won’t seem like empty words spoken too late.” He cups my face. “We will not make love again until I have the proper protection. This started with your father wanting you for heirs, and I will never, ever give you cause to question whether I secretly want the same.”

“I know,” I say. “As for tonight, I did think of it, but I’m not at the part of my cycle where I need to worry. That is hardly an exact science, though, and so I agree that we shouldn’t do it again until we’re prepared. However, as a witch whose aunt specialized in women’s health, I have my own ways of avoiding pregnancy, once I have the proper ingredients. A melding of magic and medicine that has proven more effective than what you would have been using, which would have been partly for protection against pregnancy, but also for protection against the pox. Presuming you do not have the pox…”

The look on his face is priceless. “Certainly not.”