60. Everything Goes Hazy
*Anwen*
I stand in the open gate as the milky white Haze silvers with the rising moon. Not everyone finds their mate during their first Haze. I keep reminding myself of that.
This is my first time in public since Father’s death, other than mandatory political appearances. I can’t believe my siblings are acting so normal. We lost our parents. And, fine, I accept that Father was a crueler man than I thought, but that doesn’t make his loss mean nothing.
The moon hits its apex, and a wild drumbeat seizes my blood. For the first time in days, the strange ache of Father’s death fades out of my mind. I am all instinct and need.
I leap forward into a shift. My bones slide smoothly, and pure white fur explodes from my skin. My wolf has always felt more natural than my human form, but tonight, I can barely remember the human I’m leaving behind. I howl, and answering howls split the air.
A mouthwatering scent catches my nose, like something sweet baking in the oven and a flower I can’t name. I tear off after it. Speed has always been my wolf’s greatest grace, and tonight, I bend every scrap of it toward finding this scent. The smell of my mate. Animal need fuels my bunching muscles as I weave through tents and trees. Human sounds—moans and yells—threaten to puncture my single-minded focus, but I shove them aside. Nothing has ever been more tempting than this smell.
I skid to a stop, and the Haze shifts out of my way. There, close enough to a tent that I can see the shape of it behind her, stands a wolf. I can’t pick out the color through the dampening mists, but it’s dark, and her stance is tall and proud.
Something in my twangs like the plucked string of an instrument. My mate. Mine.
We howl in unison.
I sprint to her, rub my body along the length of hers—her scent is intoxicating up close, so thick I can taste it—and continue to the tent behind her. She twists like she can already read my thoughts and races me to the door.
A competitive urge lights in my blood. She wants to prove herself to me? Let her try.
She started closer, so she’s nearly on my heels as I tumble through the flap, shifting immediately. Not bad. But she can do better. I know it.
When she shifts behind me, I whip around to catch her instantly and crush my lips to hers. That same drumbeat still hums in my veins, heating my blood. I grab fistfuls of her long, soft curls, stirring more of her scent into the air. She molds herself against me. We collapse onto the soft floor. I press my tongue to her lips, begging access, but she doesn’t open.
Mine , that animal voice in my head snarls.
I flip her over so I’m on top, grab her jaw, and pull her mouth open. As soon as she notices what I’m doing, she parts with a moan, but I don’t release her face. Holding her here, pinned, is almost sweeter than her scent on the night air.
Almost.
I palm one of her breasts roughly, find it to be the perfect handful topped by an already pebbled nipple. A snarl of pleasure tears from my lips. She’s perfect for me. Made to fit me. And the rougher I handle her, the louder her moans grow. A perfect symphony of primal pleasure. I need her. My cock twitches, and I move to line it up.
Distantly, my human mind reminds me that few shifters experiment like I have before the Haze. This perfect creature might not be ready for me.
The snarl this time is one of displeasure, but a protective instinct surges up to meet it. I don’t want to hurt her.
No. I will never hurt her. She’s mine.
I devour her mouth and release her face to cup her core. She moans and bucks into the pressure. She is already slick and wanting. But I will not hurt her. I swipe my thumb over her clit, listen to the beautiful waterfall of noises she makes, then slide one finger inside her.
Her moans reach a fever pitch. She is hot, wet, and so tight I can barely move. Her smell fills the tent.
I have to taste her.
I abandon her mouth and dive between her legs. The pooling slick there tastes like the nectar of the Goddess, the sweetest dessert I’ve ever had. I lap, lick, savor. She rocks against me, coating my whole face in her. I fit a second finger inside her, then a third. She is crying out, every twitch of my hand or my mouth setting off a new cascade of reactions that I want to watch forever. My cock aches and burns.
When I slide the fourth finger in with only the barest resistance, I know she’s ready. I pull out, position my cock against her pussy, and plunge forward. Her whole body arcs off the ground as if electrocuted. I catch her in my arms, quickly reposition so we’re both sitting up, and she rides me in desperate thrusts. Our harsh breath echoes off the walls of the tent. I groan and drop my mouth to her shoulder as my own pleasure races toward its crest. She kisses along my neck, my back, anywhere she can reach with our chests pressed so closely together. We move in perfect unison, two pieces of the same machine.
As pleasure overtakes me, my teeth sharpen, and I sink them into the flesh of her shoulder. Sweet pain sears through my upper back, surrounded by the relief of her lips.
* * *
The following morning, I blink awake with hazy memories of the night before. A few pieces click into place immediately. The tan canvas of a tent surrounds me, and a warm weight covers my chest.
I found my mate.
Something hot and sharp tears through me. This wasn’t supposed to happen now. Not yet.
Still, I glance down to see who’s asleep on my bare chest. Dark brown hair covers my pale skin, and I can just make out the edge of a sand-colored hand which could only belong to one person.
The newly arrived princess of Sundrop Gem.
Fuck.