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“Tell me how you feel,” he said.

“Again” was all that came out of my mouth. My mind was clouded, everything turning inward as if my body controlled everything first and my logic next. “And you can touch me all you want.”

His arms wrapped around me, settling me on my back. “Oh, thank the gods.” He kissed me softly and whispered against my lips, “Tell me how you want it this time.”

I slipped in and out of a feverish state, my body begging for more, my skin burning until Sylvan pulled me close. He ran his fingers through my hair, and I whined, annoyed that I had to concede to whatever my hormones were telling me. I felt ashamed of the sheer indecency of the bodily fluids I produced—sweat, endless slick, and gods, even drool as I thought of Sylvan’s hands all over me.

I wanted to cry, but Sylvan held me close and whispered, “It’s alright; it’s natural. You’re doing great. You’re in control. Don’t forget that.”

There was no way in hells I should’ve liked his patronizing words of comfort, but I was practically boneless in his arms. “I need you,” I said, turning onto my front and pressing my face into the soft sheets. I hated the need.

“Your body needs something—I’m just conveniently here.”

It made me laugh before he braced himself over me, his lips brushing the nape of my neck, while his knee nudged my legs apart. He slid into me with ease and moved with slow thrusts until I pushed back against him and eventually up onto my hands and knees. I could tell he was holding on to his own control. The pheromones that wrapped around me were so intense they were dizzying.

He remained gentle as his hands gripped my hips. I pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, and he let out a shaky breath. “Words,” he mumbled to me. “Tell me what you want.”

“Harder. Faster.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I could just imagine the grin. His motions became more frantic. His fingers dug into my hips. I could feel his desire coursing through him, threading into me as if we shared a body for a moment of time.

Both in tune with my body and separate from it, I heard my own voice, a pleading, almost demanding yes, like that, more, faster, yes … And he obliged with eager force until I was coming apart again.

Still, he didn’t lose control. He pulled out and held me against him, his cock twitching against my backside as he followed me into bliss. He held me that way for a while as my body begged for more and for sleep simultaneously.

The next time I woke, Sylvan was pulling me out of the comfortable sheets. I groaned in protest.

Sleepy. Wanting. More. Why wasn’t there more?

My thoughts were more jumbled, my body in an endless state of yearning. I realized when I stopped fighting it, the stomach pains weren’t quite so intense. “Come on,” said Sylvan. “Move those gorgeous legs for a moment then we can go back to the nest.”

Nest. It made sense. What a strange yet endearing name, I wanted to say.

I let him lead me to the kitchen, and he released my hand to pour us each something to drink. He pressed a glass of blood into my hand, and said, “Slowly.”

I’d told someone this before, but right now I couldn’t remember who.

I couldn’t remember a before.

I downed the blood from the glass, and as I set it down, Sylvan pressed something soft and textured against my lips. I flinched back and he said, “It’s just a blackberry.”

“You know I don’t eat,” I mumbled.

“I know it’s not chocolate cake,” he teased, but he still held the berry just in front of my lips. There was something oddly tempting about his presentation. The smell of the fruit wafted toward me—sweet and tart. It reminded me of the aroma of Sylvan’s blood. He started to pull back, but I closed my lips around the berry, capturing his fingers and all. His pupils dilated as my tongue brushed against his skin. His scent intensified in the small space between us, then he was bending me over the counter.

This time, there was no gentleness. It was exactly what I needed—hard, fast, frenzied, devouring. He plucked another berry from the nearby plate, feeding it to me without so much as a pause. We were all delirious laughter, moans, and fragmented, breathless words. Even as the plate fell from the counter and shattered. Even as dishes rattled in the cabinets, and the wood creaked beneath the force of his thrusts.

He pulled out and spun me toward him, murmuring something about Magdalena killing us as he hoisted me into his arms. My legs twined around his waist, the head of his cock nudging against me. I groaned against his shoulder as he buried himself inside me again.

We were wild and untethered. I felt no pain when my back hit the wall, when he pounded into me with such speed that I didn’t know which way was up or down anymore. His hand slid between our bodies, and orgasm after orgasm crashed over me, splintering my awareness.

I didn’t even remember when he brought me back to the nest and pulled blankets over me.

“Wha—” I started to ask.

“Sleep,” he whispered to me. “Sleep, my wolfsbane. Conserve your energy.”

The next time I woke, Sylvan was already over me, nuzzling into my neck.