Euphemia
His vicious, lingering growl sent a tremor through my thighs, my chest aching as though it might burst open at the sound. Before I could make sense of it, another cramp tore through me—every bit as violent as the wolf’s call. Tears stung my eyes as I gasped his name, a prayer torn from my throat.
This was nothing like the hunger I had known before. That had been bearable—something I could endure. My sacrifice for my family had been part of our shared struggle.
This was different.
This felt deeper. Older than time itself.
My lips trembled as he drew closer, tears blurring my vision despite my efforts to blink them away.
“Euphemia,” he sighed—my name shaped like a vow.
I reached for him blindly, my hand shaking until his warmth closed around it. The sudden rush of his scent made me gasp, my body answering without permission. His sharp hiss told me the reaction was mutual.
When he didn’t move closer, I lifted my gaze.
His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes glowing amber—burning with restraint rather than hunger.
“Make it stop,” I whispered, tugging on his hand.
His eyes flared as his knuckles brushed over my heated cheeks—cool, soft, grounding.
I leaned into his touch without thinking.
“I will ruin you tonight,” he growled.
The words didn’t frighten me. They settled low and deep, stirring something hungry. I reached for his breeches.
He moved too fast to track.
In a blink, he’d spun me around, guiding me toward the nest. His hands were already working—lifting my dress, tugging it free—before nimble fingers found the laces of my chemise.
I sank down onto the soft bedding, grinding against it, aching for relief. I clutched the shirt he’d handed me earlier and dragged it beneath me, pressing my face into the fabric and breathing him in. The musk clung thick and heady, filling my lungs.
He loosened the final ties and pushed my damp undergarments down my legs.
The freedom from cloth felt right—necessary—but it did nothing to ease the heat coiled inside me. If anything, it only made the ache sharper.
He swept my braid over one shoulder, and I shivered as his lips grazed my bare skin. The touch was light—almost reverent. His fingertips traced slowly down my spine before settling on my hip, steady and possessive.
Then, without warning, he flipped me onto my back.
I clutched his shirt to my chest, the fabric already warm as his gaze travelled over me—unhurried, intent, darkened with hunger.
“Good God,” he muttered.
His focus dropped as his hands went to his breeches, fumbling briefly with the buttons as though his patience had finally fractured.
The room seemed to shrink around us, the fire snapping softly as though even it held its breath. Heat pressed in from every direction—too much, not enough, all at once. My body felt tight and loose in the same heartbeat, suspended in a moment that threatened to snap.
I clenched the shirt to my mouth, biting into it when his breeches came down. His manhood was swollen and thicker than my wrist. It bobbed against his flat stomache as he kicked his breeches away. That’s when I noticed the thick rouge swelling at the base.
The ache pulsed and I ground my thighs together, groaning when I felt the slippery mess between them.
My heart raced and I closed my eyes, waiting for him to come to me.
The pause was unbearable. Every sound—the crackle of the fire, the rough drag of his breath—stretched the moment tighter, until waiting felt like another kind of agony.
The command landed low and firm, leaving no space for argument—only heat and inevitability. My body answered before my thoughts could catch up.
“Get in your nest, Euphemia and part your thighs. You have made us wait long enough,” he said, prying his shirt away from my hands.
I slid into the cocoon of his clothing until all I could smell was him. The cool sheets, the rough wool and the soft shirts wrapped around me, grounding and overwhelming all at once. His presence shifted the mattress as he joined me, the bed dipping beneath his weight.
I reached for him without thinking, my fingers brushing his chest—hard muscle beneath my palm, coarse hair warming quickly under my touch.
His wolf growled at my touch.
The sound vibrated through the space between us, a warning and a promise all at once, making the air feel charged—like the moment just before something breaks.
He moved until he towered above me, blocking out the firelight, his shadow swallowing me whole. His presence pressed down—heat, weight, certainty—and my breath caught before I could steady it. His knees nudged me open, leaving no room for escape, no illusion of choice.
“I can smell your need, little wolf,” he rasped, gripping my thighs until he pinned them on the bed. “That’s better, let me see how wet you are for my knot. Let me take your ache away.”
The words shattered what little restraint I had left. A sound slipped free of me—broken, helpless.
I whimpered and did as he asked. His dark hair fell around his face as he lowered his lips to my neck.
His tongue pressed against me, warm and wet, before he licked his way down to my breast. I clung to his arms and arched my back to offer myself to him, surrendering to the heat coiling tighter and tighter inside my body.
His breath was hot against my skin, a promise and a warning all at once. I barely had time to draw a breath before sensation overtook thought.
His whiskers grazed my breast, and when his hot mouth closed over my nipple, I cried his name.
His length brushed against my core as he suckled my breast. My nails curled into his flesh as I anchored myself to him.
His muffled groan against my breast caused a gush of liquid to trickle out of me.
His tongue flicked my nipple, teasing me before he began to suck harder.
I could barely breathe when another cramp seized me, ripping a cry from my throat. The heat flared so sharply it felt as though it scorched me from the inside out, leaving my skin slick as a bead of sweat traced a slow path down my temple.
“Please,” I sobbed—no pride left in the word, only need.