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I growl–a real wolf growl.
Lauren soaks my dick.
I lean over and growl in her ear. “He never touches you again. Understand?”
I’m harder than stone right now, ready to come, and being close to her shoulder makes my wolf desperate to mark her. “Never,” I repeat, picking up speed.
Lauren doesn’t answer.
I tug her hair. “Say it.”
“Never.”
“Good girl.” I’m slamming into her now. Both of us are breathless and feverishly hot.
I release her hair to work one nipple, pinching the bud to a stiff peak.
She bites the pillow, crying out in pleasure against the fabric.
“That’s right, Pearls. Come for me,” I breathe, thrusting faster, losing all sense of place or time.
I slam in deep and fill the condom at the same time her muscles clench and squeeze. She shudders beneath me, sobbing into the pillow with pleasure.
My vision’s gone, but there’s no pain. I kiss along the back of her neck, rocking slowly to wring out some aftershocks.
“Tomorrow night. After dark. Meet me at the cabin.” I don’t know if I’m asking or demanding. All I know is that I’m already desperate to see her, and I don’t know how I’ll make it through the school day without acknowledging she’s mine.
I ease out of Lauren and roll her to her back. My vision returns, and I see her lids are heavy, limbs relaxed. She stretches like a cat in the sun. “Maybe,” she purrs.
“Meet me,” I insist.
She hits me with the beautiful smile again. “‘Kay.”
I lean over and claim her mouth, kissing her hard. “You’re mine now, Lauren Sterling. Nobody else touches you. Nobody else even thinks about you, or I will wolf-smack them down.”
Lauren’s smile is indulgent, like she’s amused by my jealousy, but she shakes her head and points at the window. “Get out, Abe.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lauren
Returning to Wolf Ridge High now that I’m alive again is a new experience. Walking through the hallways, my senses are heightened–or at least no longer dulled. I hear every noise. Notice the natural beauty and spectacular athleticism of most every student I pass—male and female alike.
“Have you noticed how ethnically un-diverse this school is?” I say to Lincoln as we walk to our lockers.
He snorts. “You just now figured that out?”
“I wasn’t paying much attention before.” I look at him, wondering what he sees. If he’s noticed any clues about the differences between the students here and normal human teens.
Lincoln is pretty observant. He’s the kind of guy who clocks everyone in the room at a party. He knows their vibe before they ever interact. He always approached our move here as a study in small-town anthropology.
“It’s not like Landhower had much diversity,” Lincoln says as he drops his books in his locker and pulls out a notebook and pencil.
“No, but more than here.”
“True.”
Abe and his friends come strutting down the hallway, talking in loud voices. The other students part to let them sail through.
