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How long is that? I have no idea, but it could be a dozen spans judging by how I find Seith attractive and how I imagine all the ways I would like to have sex with him. Or rather, he would like to have sex with me, but all the same if we’re breeding.
Breeding.
That makes me sit down and pause from arranging the branches in a tent fashion inside the spare fireplace. It makes me face another one of the demons I didn’t wish to face. Gosh, I hate that I’m having these thoughts now, but I must deal with them. I sit back on my heels and blow into the fireplace, feeling guilt I ought to feel for being jealous of my princess.
I would never admit this, and it’s uncomfortable, and it makes me feel like a terrible person, but when Gloriana found Lenox and then started growing a belly, and when I saw how he doted on her, I grew jealous of him.
Sometimes even bitter. I would put spice in his soup to make him sneeze.
I gasp and cover my mouth, looking around as if someone heard me think.
And the wedding dress? I wanted it. I coveted it. Oh, how beautiful the dress is, and how I wished I could, some span, wear it, and that Gloriana would, for once, just one time, attend an event for me. ThatIwould send out an invitation to her and host a gathering that would be, just this one time, centered around me.
Selfish.
Traitor.
The discomfort of shedding the old Marybell in favor of new Marybell makes me swallow back bile.
Once the fireplace roars to life, I’m back at the trunk, digging deep for candles. Fleur loves gently scented candles, and she’s packed me more than I can use in ten full moons. I sniff an obsidian one. Mmmm. Light and airy like a summer breeze, perfectly right for my mate’s sensitive nose.
Damn. I have a mate. Dare I say a sexy mate with a long dong and strong legs. My nipples harden, and I sneeze again. And again. Bleary-eyed, I look out the window while the tickle in my nose signals another sneeze is coming. Eyelashes fluttering, I wait for the sneeze to come, when something gray appears between the trees.
My sneeze never comes, but tears cloud my vision. I try to blink them away, but end up wiping them with my sleeve. That’s better. I watch the line of snow-covered evergreens on the other side of the lake, seeking the gray mass again. Nothing there.
I must’ve imagined a gray wolf in the woods.
23
MARYBELL
With the way the lycans praise the mating and how rare it is, I imagined Seith would be eager to make things happen between us, but the moon’s shining brightly near the middle of the night and all I hear is the howling of the wolves.
The pack alpha often takes the pack for a run, and sometimes the males organize play fights to work out their aggression and energy during the full moon. Seith went for a run, and when Lenox does his runs, he returns late, often well into the night.
After kneeling in wait for Seith as one awaits one’s alpha male in the nest, I gave up when my knees started to hurt. Then I got chilly and put more wood into the fireplace, which flared up and overheated the room. Now I’m finally perfectly comfortable, the candles’ light and the fire’s flames adding charm to the previously masculine space.
Inside my nest, the tent I pitched in the corner of the cabin, farthest from the door, I’m done fussing with the blankets. I’m mad at myself for being unable to decide which color scheme to use. All three matching sets lie around in a mess of sheets, blankets, and throws, and none of it matches at all. It’s a giant pile of mess.
I crawl out of the tent and lie on the purple fur rug by the second fireplace, but the swing practically calls my name, and I end up curling up in it with a few blankets and dozing off, the moonlight bathing my face.
A gentle scrape of a claw.
A soft touch on my shoulder.
I pry open my eyes to see Seith kneeling in front of the swing chair, the full moon above him casting a shadow on his face. His silver eyes are bright with the magic of his wolf. Wilderness and fresh night air clings to his nude body.
His touch is cold when he parts my legs, whisps of bright white magic dancing over his skin as he inhales my scent. A growl follows, and he hooks my legs behind his neck and dives between my thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me grip the edges of the swing chair and thrust my hips forward with a moan that sounds like I’m growling. In turn, he growls louder as he licks me, now also holding me down.
And the way he licks me makes me come off the chair. I don’t know if I’m overstimulated or not stimulated enough, but I fist the mane of hair at the top of his head and pull it toward me.
Seith’s growl turns menacing, and he locks eyes with mine, the threat of his dominance and being fucked into the ground turning me on even more.
I lick my lips.
Seith’s growling as he eats me out, drawing out my heat. I grab my breasts and hold them together, squeezing them and sometimes, pinching my nipples. That gets me a finger inside my channel and then another and another.
