Wolf Fated

Chapter Twelve

Mitch

Iam utterly spellbound the moment Sarah steps into view, her fiery tresses glowing like molten copper in the fading twilight. The sight of her steals the breath from my lungs, and when her green eyes find me standing by the side of my cruiser waiting for her, her full lips tip into a radiant smile and the world stops.

Stunning. She’s absolutely stunning.

My wolf howls, a feral sound that reverberates through every cell in my body. Mate. Mine. Bite. Claim.

My muscles coil tight, restraining him when all he wants to do is break free of my skin and rub himself all over her because he’s right. The goddess has blessed us. She is ours. Ours to claim, to cherish, to worship forever.

Sarah’s eyes flare and a look of panic forces her happiness away. Her steps falter as though she can feel the undercurrent of possession that crackles around us. Panic lances through me, sharp and insistent, and before I can think, I’m propelling myself forward, every muscle poised to catch her.

But she regains her footing, her brow furrowing as her smile slips, replaced by a look of uncertainty that has every raw urge within me screaming to soothe and reassure.

Soon I will be able to. When she knows. When she accepts me for who I am to her and she won’t push me away.

With a monumental effort, I rein in my instincts, forcing myself to maintain a semblance of calm as I usher her into the confines of the cruiser.

“Are you all right?” I murmur, as she clips her seatbelt.

She nods, offering a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine,” she insists, but her eyebrows draw together, and she glances away. I can’t help but feel the way I left her before has something to do with her obvious discomfort.

“I owe you an apology,” I begin, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. “For how I left things earlier, for running off without an explanation. That wasn’t...it wasn’t right of me.”

Sarah regards me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. But then, slowly, the tension bleeds from her shoulders, and she offers me a small, reassuring smile. “It’s all right. You’re the sheriff! I’m not your only job. You have other duties to attend to.”

She’s right. I did have other obligations, but wrestling my wolf under control shouldn’t be something that drives me away from her. I send censure to my wolf, only slightly mollified when his ears droop.

Her sweet scent holds a sour edge. I know she’s feeling the bond between us, as much as I am, but she’s unsure what it is, or even if she can trust her feelings. It hums beneath my skin, a thrum of awareness that resonates in perfect harmony with the basic instincts of my wolf.

“I’m glad my duties have brought me back to you,” I say, happy when the sourness dissipates.

She smiles. “I’m glad I can bring some enjoyment to your busy day.”

“You bring more than enjoyment to my day, Sarah.” I’m pleased when a fetching pink blush blossoms over her cheeks.

I’ll have to tell her everything, but for now, as I guide the cruiser through the bustling streets of Willowbrook, I allow myself to simply be with her because every moment spent in her company will deepen the bond.

As we pull into the heart of the Market Square, the festive atmosphere envelops us in a warm embrace. Twinkling lights drape from the branches of towering oaks, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the scene. The air is rich with the scents of roasting meats and spiced cider, mingling with the earthy aromas of hand-crafted wares and freshly cut pine.

Laughter and music fill the air, a symphony of joy and revelry that resonates deep within me. This is my home, my pack, the beating heart of everything I’ve sworn to protect and cherish. I guide Sarah through the throngs of merry-makers, basking in the warmth of their greetings and well-wishes and a surge of pride swells within me.

I hope it will come to mean as much to Sarah as it does everyone who lives in Willowbrook. So much rests on me doing this properly.

Sarah drinks in the sights and sounds. Her gaze darts from one vibrant display to the next with an insatiable curiosity that tugs at the corners of my lips. But even as she revels in the festivities, even as she allows herself to be swept up in the infectious energy that pulses through the very air around us, I sense her sharp mind at work, cataloguing information for her article.

Hopefully more.

I can’t help but hope this might form inspiration for her book.

A place she will want to build her life with me.

“What is all of this for? This Lunar Frost Festival, I mean,” she asks.

I regard her for a long moment, torn between the desire to lay everything bare and the need to tread carefully.

“Tonight is a celebration. The “Lunar” aspect represents the connection to the moon, often associated with transformation and magic in wolf mythology, while “Frost” celebrates the icy beauty of the winter solstice,” I say.

It’s a half-truth, a careful omission that skirts the true significance of this night. Tonight is the longest night of the year when the boundaries between our world and the natural forces of nature are thin and permeable. It’s also a time when shifters are at our most vulnerable.

The whole town of Willowbrook will answer the call of their wolves to run wild and unfettered through the forests that surround our lands together. It unites us in both our human and wolf forms.

A pang hits my heart. That, as a human, she probably won’t shift into her own wolf, but she will feel the strength of the goddess through our bond, at least. There are some of us in our pack that don’t have wolves, but they are no less important than anyone else. Unlike other packs, I make sure to keep it that way.

I reach out with my senses, tracking each ward that lines our packlands, relaxing a little when I don’t detect any disturbances. Especially along the Ironjaw border. The last thing I want is to have to deal with the Ironjaw Alpha, Jonah Cooper, tonight. Not when everything inside me wants to protect our mate.

That thought alone is enough to have my wolf bristling beneath my skin. A low, rumbling growl echoes through my consciousness when my wolf agrees. Mate. Mine. Bite. Claim.

Soon.

I clench my teeth and force my wolf back down, my own growl rumbling in my chest.

“Are you all right?” she asks. “Is something happening, like before?”

I open my mouth to respond, to offer some semblance of reassurance or explanation but before I can form the words, a familiar voice cuts through the din, warm and rich with affection.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite people!” Sally’s cheerful tone breaks through my thoughts.

She approaches us with her usual warmth and exuberance, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she pulls Sarah into a warm embrace. “You’re just in time for the real festivities to begin. Has the sheriff filled you in about them?” she says, raising her brows over the fiery crown of Sarah’s head.

“Yes. The sheriff has told me all about it. Holding a festival on the longest night of winter is a great idea,” she says.

Sally gives me a sharp look and I stiffen. “Did he also tell you the festival goes back to the root of Willowbrook?”

“I was getting to that,” I say.

“Oh, I need to know everything. That would be a fantastic addition to the article,” Sarah says.

Before I can sweep her away from Sally and her pointed stares, Cindi pushes through the crowds, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I tense when I see the light green of her wolf shine though, but she quickly shoves it down.

“Sarah, you must try one of our famous Howling Wolf Dogs,” she says, thrusting the piping hot delicacy into Sarah’s hands with a flourish. “It’s a true taste of Willowbrook, made with pepperjack cheese to give it a fiery kick, symbolizing the fierce and untamed nature of a wolf. It’s also served on a black charcoal bun. To represent the darkness and mystery often associated with wolves in folklore and mythology.”

Cindi offers me a sly wink, her lips curving into a teasing smile as she continues her explanation. Is everyone out to undermine me tonight?

Sarah’s brows lift in surprise. “You have a special hot dog for your festival?”

“You could say something like that,” Sally mutters.

Sarah regards the strange concoction with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, but after a moment’s hesitation, she lifts it to her lips and takes an experimental bite. An appreciative moan slips from her throat, the sound sending a jolt of pure need lancing through me.

“It’s delicious,” she murmurs, her eyes slipping closed as she wraps her mouth around the black bun. “And spicy. Just the way I like it.”

I groan, my cock quickly swelling.

Cindi shoots me a wicked grin, her eyes dancing with unholy glee. “My brother also likes things a bit spicy, don’t you Mitch?”

Heat floods my cheeks and my wolf snarls in outraged embarrassment. Sarah, for her part, flushes a delicate shade of crimson, her eyes widening as she struggles to formulate a response.

Sarah begins to choke on her bite. I tap her back as she leans into me. I hold my water to her mouth, watching her lips close around the top and her throat bob when she drinks. Satisfaction bolts through me, knowing I’m taking care of my mate and I need to stifle another low growl vibrating in my chest.

“I think my job here is done. Come on, Sally.” Cindi grabs Sally and sweeps them both away with a merry laugh.

Sarah regards me, her cheeks still flushed with a delicate rosy hue. “I...thank you. For the water…and…”

I don’t need her to finish the thought, not when the sweet scent of her arousal swirls around us and the bond clearly vibrates with her desire.

Have to have her.

Have to…

A deep, driving need scours a red hot path through me. With a low, rumbling growl, I surge forward, capturing Sarah’s lips in a searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt or hesitation. She gasps against my mouth, her body going rigid with surprise for just a heartbeat before melting into my embrace, surrendering to the undeniable force of our connection.

My wolf howls in triumph, reveling in the taste, the scent, the very essence of our mate enveloping us from all sides.

She is everything we’ve been yearning for.

The missing piece that will make us whole.

Rational thought becomes a distant memory as my instincts take over, every fiber of my being focused on a single, driving imperative–to claim, to possess, to bind us together.

Sarah’s fingers tangle in the fabric of my shirt as she presses against me with a desperation that mirrors my own. There’s no hesitation, no trace of uncertainty in her movements–only a desperate hunger that resonates in perfect harmony with the demands of my wolf.

The world around us falls away, the sights and sounds of the festival fading into insignificance. All that matters in this moment is the feel of her body against mine, the intoxicating scent of her arousal that clings to the very air I breathe.

With a growl of pure, unadulterated need, I hoist her into my arms, her legs winding around my waist. Sarah’s fingers tangle in my hair, her nails scraping deliciously against my scalp as she captures my lips in a searing kiss that leaves me reeling.

I think the crowd parts as I storm through. People scatter as I bolt for my cruiser. I don’t know for sure and I don’t care. My mind is gone. I’m operating on pure driving instinct. I’m distantly aware that I buckle Sarah into the passenger seat, start the engine and wind the vehicle through the streets of Willowbrook until I reach my cabin.

Mate. Home. Rightness.

Yes, my cabin. Our home. Where she always should be.

I rip her from her seat. She winds her legs around my hips, and I groan as her heated core grinds against the erection that somehow hasn’t yet broken my pants zipper. I stagger on the path and stumble through the front door

The moment the door slams shut behind us, the last vestiges of my control snap like a frayed tether. I pin Sarah against the nearest wall as my lips blaze a scorching trail along the slender column of her throat. She arches into me with a keening whimper, her hips rolling against the insistent ridge of my arousal in a silent plea for more.

“Mate,” I growl, the word rumbling from the depths of my chest. “Mine.”

Sarah’s eyes fly open, her lush depths hazy with passion and something else, something deeper that resonates through the very core of her being. For a heartbeat, we simply stare at one another, the weight of that single word hanging heavy in the air between us.

And then, as if a switch has been flipped, Sarah is surging forward, her mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that steals the very breath from my lungs. “Yours,” she whispers against my lips, the word laced with a depth of conviction that sends a shudder of pure, unadulterated ecstasy rippling through me. “Always yours.”