Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
TROY
I listen to Emma’s footsteps as she moves through the cabin.
Carter and Sebastian are tall, muscular guys, but they’re also werewolves, so they’re usually dead silent.
Now, the house has come alive, and hearing Emma clatter around the bathroom is like listening to a clumsy ghost who has taken up residence here.
My mouth tugs up into an involuntary smile. Hopefully, she’ll decide to stay.
This morning was spectacular. To have her soft, curvy body pressed up against me, to hear her little mewls of pleasure, to feel her muscles clench up as I brought her to a climax… Nothing compares to the pleasure of worshipping our mate.
I put thick strips of bacon on a parchment-paper-lined baking tray—Sebastian would cheerfully murder me if I forgot the parchment paper—and think of how lucky we were to have found her last night.
If my mother hadn’t asked us for help, if we hadn’t stayed behind to have that last cup of coffee before hitting the road, we might have missed Emma completely.
A shiver dances down my spine at the realization that she could have died out there. She could have frozen to death. Or been picked up by someone with much more sinister intentions than us.
Though to be fair, my own intentions would likely seem sinister to any sane person out there.
Make sure our mate never leaves. Fuck her hard as often as possible until she’s addicted to us. Fill her pink pussy with all the cum I can give her until she’s round and pregnant and glorious.
Yeah. My wolf side has been riding me hard, demanding I fulfill my instincts.
It doesn’t help that we’re this close to a full moon, when all our good intentions go out the window.
I know deep in my bones that she’s the one we’ve been waiting for, but I can’t allow myself to fuck up by showing her my true self.
I’m not like Sebastian, who might be a monster but is actually a fluffy, cuddly beast. Or even like Carter, whose wolf form is so fucking magnificent, he once had dozens of shifters lining up to become a part of his pack before he surprised everyone by choosing me.
After that, no one wanted to be in our pack—apart from Sebastian, whose response to my true form was to hug me and bake me a dozen cupcakes.
They were delicious cupcakes, but still.
I’m no one’s idea of a happily ever after. So I have no clue about how to broach the subject of my wolf form with Emma. But I’ll have to. And soon—I can’t leave the revelation for tomorrow night, or she could get seriously hurt.
That is, if she’s still here on that day.
I peer down at the fried eggs in the pan and study the still-gooey egg white as if presenting the woman of my dreams with a plate of eggs will tip the scales for her.
But that’s exactly what the mating urge is telling me.
I need to protect Emma, take care of her, feed her, and make sure she’s comfortable.
It’s a biological urge all paranormals have to some extent, because there are so few of us compared to humans.
We have to do everything in our power to continue our species.
I can’t wait to attempt to continue our species with Emma.
The thought of her scent, the memory of her taste, has my cock throbbing in my sweatpants. It’s been hard since last night, I think, with no relief, even overnight, so I should probably find a moment for a visit to the bathroom to take care of it before it grows painful.
I could ask Sebastian or Carter for help, but maybe it’s better that I do this on my own. They don’t have issues with showing Emma their wolves, and I doubt they’ll want to hook up with me alone now that she’s here.
It’s a depressing thought. I love them, but I know our dynamic has to change. We’ll focus more on Emma, and I shouldn’t be greedy for their attention. It makes sense that I’ll receive less of it, even if it’ll hurt.
I pack all those feelings away. I can’t let them show, not to Sebastian and especially not to Carter, because he’ll think it’s his duty as our alpha to fix them. To fix me.
The truth is, I can’t be fixed, so I might as well hide the broken shit from the rest of them and make sure they have what they need.
Starting with food, of course.
The eggs are done, and so is the bacon, just crispy but not burned.
I let out a shrill whistle, which lets the guys know breakfast is ready.
Sebastian appears at the door to the hallway, back in his human form, freshly showered.
His curly hair is wet and floppy, and he moves with a loose-limbed grace that signals he’s been thoroughly fucked.
Emma follows him, her cheeks pink, wearing another one of Sebastian’s t-shirts. I bet he just loves seeing her in his clothes. I put in a mental note to rummage through my stuff for something of mine that she could put on.
We manage to get through breakfast without incident, though Emma seems to become uncomfortable when she realizes the snowstorm hasn’t abated one bit and is still dumping heaps of powdery snow all around.
“Did you have Christmas plans?” Carter asks, leaning back with his mug of black coffee in hand.
I tense, remembering her mentioning her boyfriend last night. I’m ninety-nine percent sure she made him up for our benefit, especially considering what we just did in our bed, but I can’t be completely certain.
“No,” she admits with a sigh. “I was going to make dinner for myself, but it wasn’t going to be anything special. There just isn’t any point when it’s only me.”
I stare down at her. “So, no boyfriend?”
If our situation was different, I wouldn’t push her, but she’s our mate, and the sooner she realizes it, the better.
She flushes pink, her scent intensifying. “No boyfriend.”
“That’s good,” I say, then clear my throat because my voice comes out a low growl, and it’s just embarrassing how gone I am for this woman.
“We’ll cook together, then,” Sebastian declares, saving me from making more of a fool of myself. “We can start tonight with the pies, then do the turkey tomorrow.”
“That sounds good.” She smiles shyly. “If you’re sure I’m not intruding?”
Carter lets out a low laugh. “Did you get the sense that you were intruding earlier?”
She sends him a mock glare. “No.”
Sebastian is all but bouncing in his chair. “Or we could do a cake instead of pie. What do you like better?”
Emma beams at him. “I’ll never say no to cake.”
I stare at them, envying their easy conversation. Sebastian is extroverted and cute, which are two qualities no one would ever think of in connection with me.
Suddenly feeling like the third wheel, I push back my chair and stand.
Emma looks up immediately. “Is everything okay?”
I dip my chin in a nod, not trusting myself to speak.
If I open my mouth, there’s no telling what might come out.
I want to declare she’s mine, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her off to bed to taste every inch of her skin.
But if I so much as come close to her sweet pussy again, I know my monstrous side will make itself known immediately.
I can just imagine how Emma’s cries of pleasure would turn to shrieks of terror if she found me looming over her naked body.
Shoulders hunched, I carry my plate and mug to the kitchen sink and leave them for Carter to clean.
He happily accepts the chore of cleanup if Sebastian and I cook for him—he’s completely incompetent in the kitchen.
For once, that works well in my favor because I don’t have to load my plate and cutlery into the dishwasher, which would only allow someone to catch up with me.
“Troy,” Emma calls from the table. “Wait—”
But I don’t. I have to get away from their slice of happiness right now. The pressure in my head is too powerful for me to deny myself any longer.
I slip into my office and close the door behind me. Then I drag my t-shirt over my head just in time to keep from ripping it at the seams. My body expands, my fangs punching down, fur sprouting all over my back, my legs, and down the outer side of my arms.
My cock remains hard as it grows, though. That doesn’t change one bit through my transformation.
Urgency takes over me, and I shove down the elastic waistband of my sweatpants and boxer briefs, then step out of the confining fabric.
I wrap my clawed hand around my cock and give myself a rough, hard stroke.
My back bows from the pleasure. I’d washed my hands before cooking breakfast, but a trace of Emma’s scent lingers on my fingers, so I grip my dick with my left hand and bring my right to my mouth to stifle my grunt of pleasure as I fuck my fist.
I’m so far gone with this little solo-love moment that I don’t hear the footsteps in the hallway until it’s too late. The doorknob rattles, then turns slowly—because I forgot to lock it in my haste to get naked.
Suddenly, Emma flings open the door, and there she is, gorgeous and unafraid. She must have followed me here to talk, but I want to do so much more to her than just talk. Her eyes widen, and her gaze ping-pongs from my face to my cock and finally settles on the vicious scars marring my body.
“Run,” I snarl, gripping my cock tighter. It’s as if my fist is the only thing keeping me back.
She blinks. “What?”
A shudder racks my body, and I take an involuntary step forward. “Run, Emma. Go. Now.”
But our mate must have a death wish. Because she doesn’t obey me at all. Instead, she moves into the room—and closes the door behind her.