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Outside the door, the acolytes begin a chant. It grows in volume as Nathan boosts me up and thrusts into me once more.
Now, it’s pleasure that makes me scream, a pleasure like I’ve never felt before. It’s unreal; I lose track of where I am, what’s happening—I might even lose consciousness for a moment. His cock never stops pumping out copious amounts of cum, and it never stops igniting higher and higher degrees of intensity. My thighs are slick to my knees and the fluid splashes onto my clit with every stroke of him. I fumble my hand between us and reach down to feel how substantially he’s spread me. When I pull my fingers back, I lift them to my mouth. Holding his gaze, I smear his cum over my tongue, and he growls what sounds like a warning, nipping at my hand.
The chanting in the main chamber rises in volume, but it can’t cover the noises I’m making. I’m lost in a world of nothing but want and desperation and fulfillment all blended together, and I’m hungry for more of it.
“Harder!” I shout, slapping his chest. He pushes me against the packed earth of the cell and drives into me faster, his breath coming in distorted huffs. His claws dig into my hips as he jerks me back and forth. The welts on my bare back scrape into the dirt and I push harder into the pain.
I want to feel everything.
Nathan holds my gaze as he pounds into me over and over, his pace quickening with the tempo of the acolytes’ chant. In his blood-red eyes, I see the depth of his claim over me, the finality of this moment. We can never go back now. We’ve joined here, in the ceremonial chamber, on Lupercalia, beneath the extra blessing of the full moon. We’re as joined in our lives as our bodies are right now.
“I’m yours,” I whisper, and I arch up, seized by ecstasy so powerful I’m not sure I’ll survive it. I twist and scream in his grasp, lost to an orgasm that goes on and on as my cunt gushes around him.
The acolytes’ chant reaches a peak, and the air in the chamber crackles with pure power. Nathan drives deep and hard one last time, his teeth closing over my shoulder. Unlike our first night, he breaks the skin; I feel warm blood trickle down my breast, the roughness of his tongue as he licks it away. My head falls against his and I surrender all of my weight to him.
Gently, he pulls out and sets my feet on the floor, but I can’t stand. I’m drenched and worn out and ready for twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep.
When I can’t walk without staggering, Nathan lifts me in his arms. He’s still in his werewolf form; there’s no sense in shifting back before morning. It’s strange, being held by him when he’s so much larger than usual and so monstrous. He’s terrifying this way, and it thrills me to know that I’m safe with him, werewolf or not.
Nathan is my mate. Nothing can separate us now. My tired brain knows vaguely that tomorrow I won’t be so psyched about that. Tonight, though, just like Tara promised me it would, it felt right.
“The moon,” I whisper dreamily as I stare up at it through the grate overhead. It’s so much brighter than I’ve ever seen it before. Exhausted as I am, a new, powerful energy calls to me. It’s now or never. I still have to enter the pack officially.
I have to transform.
CHAPTER 25
Nathan carries me down the path, to the ritual grounds. The other members of the pack have already transformed; I hear their calls from the dark woods.
I twirl some of his fur in my fingers, my head cradled in the dip of his shoulder. “I didn’t expect it to be like that. I don’t know what I expected it to be like, but not that.”
He makes a noise like the snorting of a bull and his claws tighten around me.
I slap his chest. “Control yourself. I’ve still got to transform. I wonder what I’ll look like.”
My hair is blonde, and I’ve seen blonde werewolves that turn out white or gold. People with darker or ginger hair take on varying shades of brown or black or even the deep silver of Nathan’s fur. And I’m interested to see how my face ends up. Just like with people, every werewolf looks different. I reach up to touch Nathan’s muzzle, and his lip pulls back to bare his teeth in warning.
I’m not worried he’s going to bite me or eat me. I’m more worried that he won’t make it to the ritual grounds without throwing me down in the grass and fucking me again.
“When I’m in my werewolf form, I’m going to snarl at you like that,” I warn him.
