Chapter 6
Sylvan
Her heat has lasted three days.
Three fucking days.
I pace back and forth in front of her door, listening to her heartbeat. Making sure she’s still breathing. Over the last four hours, her scent has softened, a sign that her heat is finally waning.
It isn’t entirely my fault. If she would have stayed inside, then I wouldn’t have needed to act. I broke my chains to get to her, something that I'd never had the strength to do before.
I take my job very seriously. Despite our ridiculous contract, she’s still my problem at the end of the day.
Mine to take care of.
Morgan is in trouble. There’d been something lurking in the woods that night. From the moment I left her in the house til dawn, I was hunting the scent, tearing up the forest looking for whatever tried to take her.
I found nothing.
I’ve been waiting three days. Fretting. Pacing. I stress cooked three different batches of meat and potato stew. I even baked fresh sourdough with a starter I found in the kitchen cabinet.
I’m not cut out for this. The last time I had to care about someone’s well-being so closely was . . . too long ago to remember. If ever.
The memories of the other night haunt me. The way she presented herself to me, begging me to take her. It took every ounce of power to pull back my werewolf, to keep myself leashed. She’s needy. I felt her lust in the marrow of my bones, but I sent her running.
Her ass looks really fucking bitable when she’s running away from me.
The walls creak. I pause my stride and look up as the door slowly opens.
Is that an invitation from her? Or from the house?
I immediately pick up the tray of soup, water, and coffee. I’m not even sure why I’m so worried about her. She isn’t my mate. We haven’t touched. I nearly took her, but—
Every one of those thoughts gets bottled up.
My heart skips a beat as I enter her room.
All of her blankets and pillows are piled to the floor. She’s buried at the center of the mound, her blue hair splayed over a pillow. She sleeps on her side, curled into a ball and wrapped up with so many layers, she almost disappears.
I shouldn’t have come in here without her permission. I start to back out, but the door slams shut behind me. Fuck. This fucking house. No wonder Morgan hates it.
She’s in her nest. I can’t interrupt her like this.
My stress becomes overwhelming. I’m not supposed to be here. This is a number one rule—you never go into an omega’s nest without an invitation.
I glower at the walls, but it doesn’t help anything. With a sigh, I carry the tray toward the pile of blankets and kneel down.
“Morgan,” I say gently. “You need food. And water. And coffee.”
All I receive is a soft sniffle, and it breaks my fucking heart. Every instinct screams to crawl in next to her. My wolf demands it. I need to comfort her. Hold her. Something.
It’s just the curse, I reason with myself. That’s all this is. Her grandmother bound us together and it messed everything up.
Mate.
The thought startles me.
No. She isn’t my mate.
Mate. Mate her. Be with her. Get into the nest with her and fuck her ache away—
With a huff, I leave the tray on the floor and stand, prying myself away from her. I’ve never thought about someone like this. Never. I turn the door knob, but the door won’t budge.
“You motherfucker,” I whisper, yanking harder. “House. Let me out. Now.”
The knob squeaks in my grip as I tear it away from the door. Wood cracks and a harsh curse leaves me as I hold up the fucking knob.
Of all the bad ideas I’ve had in my life, coming to this small fucking town was at the top of list. Every single Foxglove could fuck off.
Morgan . . . Oh goddess. Her scent.
My eyes roll back in my head. Pleasure jolts through me and I’m weak to her. She’s irresistible. My heavy cock thickens in my pants, pre-cum leaving a wet spot.
This is the real fucking curse—disliking her so much but wanting her so badly.
Mate.
“No,” I grunt to myself.
She is not my mate.
“Let me out,” I snarl.
The house ignores me yet again.
“Why the fuck are you in my room?”
Damn it. I look up at my very confused omega and try my best not to laugh at how her blue hair sticks up like cotton candy.
Morgan’s glare could cut steel.
“I brought you food, and the house locked me in,” I say, willing my cock to soften so she doesn’t think I’m a pervert.
“Get out.”
“I’m trying, witch.”
A noise sounds in her throat and I freeze, slowly looking over at her. Did she just growl at me? She growled at me. The witch growled like some sort of little creature. Amusement floods me, but then her expression breaks it.
Fine. I’ll give this all my strength just so she can be free of me, if that’s what she wants.
I slam my shoulder against the door hard enough the hinges break and give way. The door bursts open, popping out of the frame and slamming against the hallway floor.
“Are you fucking kidding me, wolf?” Morgan yells.
I step out into the hallway. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Suddenly my shoe laces are knotting together and I’m falling. I grunt as I catch myself on my hands and knees, looking back over my shoulder at the splintered doorframe.
This is what I get for trying to be nice to her. Why the fuck did I spend the last three days worrying if this is how she’s going to react?
Impossible witch. Useless witch. Her magic is pointless. So she can tie my shoelaces together, but she can’t perform a simple protection spell to keep herself from being dragged off by whatever darkness had been in the woods that night? Useless.
“I’m trying to protect you,” I call out. “And you’re being impossible.”
Morgan appears in the doorway wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt that grazes the tops of her thighs. No panties. I can see the trail of moisture down her leg, her essence.
But then I see the trails of tears down her cheeks.
Everything short-circuits.
I should have been with her. I should have taken her. I’ve hurt her, somehow. This is my fault.
“You’re the worst bodyguard in the world. What the hell happened the other night?”
“Oh, so now we’re talking?” I ask as I turn over to sit on the floor. I reach down and untie my shoe laces angrily. “And what happened was that you promised me you’d stay inside, but then you wandered off.”
“I don’t remember that.” Her tone loses its callousness. She presses her lips together, regarding me coolly. “I’m going to take a shower and change. You should take care of yourself, Alpha. And meet me in the kitchen so we can have a conversation.”
What does she mean—oh.
I’ve been so focused on her that I forgot about the outline of my erection pressing against my jeans. I thought I’d willed my cock to behave, but no. There really wasn’t enough willpower in the world to tame it when she was around.
“It means nothing,” I say. “Just your scent. It's biological.”
Her eyes linger on me for a moment, then her cheeks flush and she spins around to face the broken door. Her hair is still a mess. The way she crosses her arms is cute, as if throwing a little tantrum is going to do something to me. Her cheeks are scarlet now. “I hate you.”
Making her blush just makes me harder.
Fuck.
We’re entirely fucked for the next few months.
“I’ll meet you in an hour,” I mutter as I get to my feet.
I stomp down the stairs and across the stupid, diabolical house to the west side. My cock throbs. I need to get off. Now. I feel like I could burst at any second.
I slam my bedroom door hard enough the walls shake.
“Cursed witch,” I growl as I yank my belt off. I shove my jeans down, kick my shoes across the room, and sprawl out on my bed. “You know, I could burn you down, house? What then? What would you do then?”
It ignores me. Of course.
I’m not supposed to be here. I should already be on to the next job. I should be doing literally anything else instead of being trapped in a house with a witch in heat.
It’s just the pheromones, right? That’s why I’m so completely affected by her.
I mean yes, she’s absolutely stunning. Her bright, electric-blue hair, every inch of her curvy perfection.
The wolfish part of me is furious that we had her beneath us the other night, and yet I didn’t ravage her.
I didn’t give into the instincts begging for me to finally knot her.
Instead, I got one taste. One lick along the back of her neck where her raspberry scent was the strongest.
This has to be the curse’s fault. We don’t like each other. We aren’t compatible. Living with her this week has already been an annoyance. Now there was actual danger too, which means I truly can’t leave her. I have a job to do. She’s just a job. Nothing more.
Fuck, I resent her and myself. I close my hand around my cock, still not satisfied. My hands are rough. Calloused. Hers are soft and would feel better around me.
Omegas don’t affect me like this. Their scents never rile me up in this way. Never has a craving so deeply buried itself into me—an aching, desperate hunger that makes me feel hollow because I can’t cross the line. I can’t give in.
I still don’t believe she’s completely powerless. Because for whatever magic she claims she doesn’t have, she’s cast a spell over me.
I roll over on my bed, grinding my hips into the blankets. I clutch them, wishing I was in her nest.
Morgan is a threat. Plain and simple. My entire life is in danger around her, because more than anything else, I want to forget my morals, drag her to my den, and fuck her straight through my mattress.
Just her scent. Our pheromones. The full moon. There are so many reasons as to why my cock is so hard right now, and I hold onto all of them as I rock my hips, dry humping my bed.
My eyes shut as my bones crackle. Every muscle tightens, threatening to break and stretch.
The full moon has passed, but I still want to shift.
With a grunt, I take the rest of my clothes off just before I start to change.
The bed groans beneath me as my body grows, sunlight catching my dark fur.
A growl rumbles deep as I stand, my cock thickening and pulsing, all my blood flowing down.
I can taste her. Her scent is so vivid, a deep raspberry, violet, and amber concoction that makes my mouth water. I tip my head back, breathing in deep as I close my clawed hand around my cock once again and start to stroke.
“Fuuuuuck.”
My claws shred my sheets. I stroke myself faster, my crimson knot throbbing. Precum drips from the slanted head. My cock is different in this form, but she’ll be able to take it. I know she will. She’s my mate. My cock was made for her. We’ll make it fit.
No, I scold myself. These thoughts are getting out of control.
I want nothing to do with her, no matter how enticing her scent is.
It doesn’t matter how much suffering I’ve experienced since the full moon knowing she was in heat just on the other side of the house and that I could have soothed her.
I could have given her exactly what she needed in order to feel better.
I’m confident I can please her. I’m confident that even though I’ve never bedded a partner, I will figure out exactly how to take her in a way that has her shattering around my cock and crying out my name. No, no, no.
A trail of pleasure drags down my spine as my head tips back. My growl shakes through the room as I take all my frustration out on my cock, stroking myself until finally, I come. Hot ropes of cum slide down my claws. My lips lift in a snarl as I sit back, my heart thundering in my massive chest.
In my wolfish form, her scent is all the more powerful. I glare down at myself. I’m angry I just did that. That witch’s eyes should not have been burning in my mind while I pleasured myself.
We have ten more full moons.
Ten more before we can be free of each other. And in the interim, I have to figure out what the hell was after her. I have to keep her safe.
I have to keep myself from touching her.
Because once I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to let her go.