Chapter 26
Ansley
The more time I spend with Wyatt, the more I imagine what my first time with him will be like.
Will he be a gentle giant, unlike his brothers? Will the same roughness surface once I’m writhing beneath him? Will it just be us, or will he take me back to the safehouse, so he can claim me with his brothers? Three hungry wolves, instead of two.
I struggle to focus on the exhibits as we finish with the dinosaurs and move into the Hall of Mammals. I don’t remember much about this part of the museum. I’m sure we walked through this it, likely with the tour guide rambling on about things while my grandparents tried to get me to pay attention.
“This is where it gets interesting. To me at least,” Wyatt rumbles, stopping in front a case displaying ancient wolf imagery.
Cave paintings, carved figures, ceremonial masks.
“Humans have always had a fascination with wolves, even before they started writing stories about them. Some feared them. Some worshipped them. Some… they wore their fur, trying to become them.”
“Do you think that’s where shifters come from?” I ask, studying a detailed carving of a wolf standing on its hind legs.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Some of the ancient scrolls seem to think so.
That humans somehow merged with wolves and other animals,” Wyatt says.
“But humans barely understand where they came from, and there were a lot fewer of our kind. Sometimes there just isn’t enough information, so people fill it in with whatever makes sense to them. ”
“Then thousands of years later, people are examining their cave drawings, trying to figure out what they really meant,” I say. “Or digging up old scrolls, I suppose.”
“Or clay tablets,” he says, gesturing to one near the display that is covered in symbols.
“This one is from Mesopotamia. Five thousand years old, give or take. It tells the story of a great wolf who protected a village. The villagers worshiped him like a god and said he walked amongst them in human form, when he wasn’t destroying their enemies. ”
“That definitely sounds like a shifter,” I say, my eyes widening a little.
“Perhaps. Or it could just be another story, like the rest from that time period.” Wyatt shrugs. “No way to know for sure.”
“No, not unless we ever invent time travel,” I laugh.
“Exactly,” he says. “In ten thousand years, people will probably read stories from our time, wondering if they’re reality or fiction, just like we do.”
“I won’t be around to find out,” I say. “Will you? Morgan mentioned something about Hayden being a centuries old wolf.”
“We live a long time, but not that long. There are stories about wolves that lived a thousand years, and I met some that had been around for many centuries in my youth,” he says.
“But Scions live a long time, too. I used to know a witch who said she was over five hundred years old. The Fae that lived deep in the forests we used to roam claimed that those of their kind with royal blood were immortal. Unfortunately, that immortality didn’t survive the Crimson Templars. Nobody truly knows how long they have.”
“True,” I admit. “Hopefully you guys don’t have to take care of me when I’m old, wrinkly and gray, and can’t remember my own name.”
“We’ll take care of you as long as time allows,” his voice rings with sincerity. “If we have to mourn you, we will, then one day we’ll join you in whatever comes after this.”
“You believe in that? Heaven? Hell? The afterlife?” I ask. The more Wyatt talks, the more fascinated I am by him.
“I believe in what I can see and what can be proven as fact,” he replies.
“The rest of it… they’re just stories. Some might be true, some might be fiction.
Our kind have always believed in something after this.
A great forest, where wolves can roam freely with those they love.
I’d like to believe it’s true. But I’m not eager to die to find out if it is. ”
“I’ve always wondered. My grandmother used to drag me to church, so I heard all about the fire and brimstone,” I say. “Deep down, I believe there has to be something after this, but what do I know? I don’t even know what I am.”
“I know one thing to be true,” he says, putting a hand on my back, guiding me towards some other exhibits.
The heat of his palm seeps through my blouse, making me tingle slightly.
“You’re my mate. Our mate. Finding you means more than living a thousand years here, or spending eternity in a paradise. ”
“Wyatt, I…” I trail off. I stop and turn to face him, searching his amber eyes for any hint of exaggeration. I find none, and it feels like the truth.
“I mean it,” he says quietly, pulling me a little closer. “Every word.”
Wyatt leans down, his lips brushing against mine, like he’s testing my reaction.
All I do is gasp, which causes my lips to part slightly, and he kisses me.
There’s more passion in his kiss. More longing.
Like he’s savoring the moment, rather than what we both know is going to happen before the night is over.
I dissolve into his powerful arms, feeling the heat from his body against me. He holds me close, his kiss deepening, our tongues in gentle exploration as they meet for the very first time. His right hand moves to my neck, then around my chin, squeezing as continues to kiss me.
I’m breathless when our lips part. “I want you,” I whisper. “I don’t want to wait…”
“You make me question everything I know about the world. Except this,” and he is kissing me again.
Wyatt’s hands trail down my back until he’s squeezing my ass while he kisses me. He lifts me off the ground and I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding against him and finally taking the edge off the burning arousal.
He carries me through the museum, past multiple exhibits, his lips never leaving mine as he navigates the dimly lit hallway.
I cling to him, my fingers tangling in his shaggy sandy-brown hair, my pussy grinding shamelessly against his hardness, arousal seeping into my panties while I mewl and moan into his mouth.
“Where are we going?” I gasp, pulling away for a moment.
“Somewhere that resembles the spot where I would have claimed my mate if we were living long ago,” he rumbles, his voice now thick with need. “Somewhere perfect.”
We round a corner and enter I section I’m unfamiliar with. Maybe I came here years ago, maybe I didn’t. I’m too overwhelmed with desire to remember.
The exhibits here are more primitive. Reconstructed cave dwellings, stone tools, some from archeological digs, and some reconstructed for the museum. I tense up for a moment when we pass by some figures, but they’re just mannequins dressed in animal hides.
Wyatt spins me around, his lips crushing mine with more urgency. I’m flush against him, still grinding shamelessly, trying to ease the ache inside me.
He starts to lower me to the floor and our lips part.
I look down and see that we’re in one of the displays.
A massive display in the center of the room with a pile of furs.
Thick, luxurious pelts stacked nearly three feet high, arranged to show how early humans might have slept, all layered together in a nest of warmth and comfort.
“This,” Wyatt’s voice is throaty when he speaks, supporting my back as he continues lowering me. “This is where you will be claimed.”
I sink into the furs with a light gasp. They’re softer than I expected. They smell like leather, with a hint of the wilderness still present.
Wyatt stands over me, his amber eyes now blazing with hunger, instead of curiosity. He strips off his shirt, exposing his broad chest. It’s covered in thick sandy-brown hair, a shadow darker than his gorgeous mane, and it trails down his stomach, disappearing into his pants.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, and I reach for him, my fingers hooking into his pants.
“And you’re eager,” he teases playfully, letting me pull him to his knees between my thighs. I start unbuckling his belt and his dick throbs against the front of his pants. “Very eager.”
“I guess I just recognize my mate,” I smile up at him as I pull his wide, heavy belt free, my hands lingering on the leather for a moment. “Glad Hayden and Remy didn’t use a belt like this to punish me. I’d be screaming before I ever felt it.”
“I already told you I will only spank you if you want me to,” his lips form a teasing smirk as he takes the belt from my hands and tosses it to the side.
“That’s not what I want right now,” I hum, my hands moving back to the front of his pants.
“Me either.”
Wyatt’s enormous hands find the hem of my blouse and he pulls it over my head in one smooth motion. My bra follows quickly, and then his mouth is on my right breast, his tongue circling the nipple while his other hand kneads my left breast.
“Mmmm,” I moan, reaching between us to unfasten his pants, shoving them far enough down for his cock to spring free from his boxers. I wrap my hand around it and stroke, marveling at the size, and the way it throbs in my palm.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it mate?” his voice is muffled by my nipple still in his mouth, and his cock gets harder in my hand.
“Yes,” I gasp, pulling his cock towards my pussy, shifting my hips as I do.
“You’ll get it, but not yet,” he growls. “First, I want to taste you.”
His hands move to my skirt, and he easily finds the zipper, tugging it down.
Thick fingers dig into my hips, and he pulls my skirt off.
I can feel the dampness between my thighs where I’ve been grinding against him.
My panties are soaked. He groans at the sight, his eyes flickering with a need I’ve already learned to recognize.
He leans closer and inhales my scent before he starts removing my panties.
“Do all wolves like tasting their mates?” I ask, my breath getting quicker when I feel the heat of his against my folds.