Chapter 19
SADIE
Iwas on my feet before I could convince my brain to take the reins of my body, the dark hunger spreading through every cell of me matching the way their stares devoured me.
“I need—” I tried to explain, my mouth dry. But I didn’t have the nerve to say the words out loud. I just stared at them. Verne and Leander. Mostly, I tried to ignore Lainsz even if he stood with his hands crossed over his pale chest, his abs taunting me from the corner of my eye.
Leander and his wolf shared the same eyes—as green as a forest at night, almost black and full of life.
Like his voice was the gentlest of all the three men, his features were the softest, a natural beauty to his smile as he came a few steps nearer, his tanned hand lifted.
It sent a full-body shiver through me as I imagined that hand making contact with my body.
He was the tallest, I noted with shock. I might have expected Verne or the asshole, but Leander was well over six feet, and Lainsz was the shortest. That explained his unnecessary muscles. Height complex.
“Starlight,” Leander breathed, his eyes never wavering from me as he took another step, making me shake so hard my teeth threatened to rattle.
My first assessment of him as slender, not as physically strong as Lainsz, was severely wrong, I realised, when I shuddered and his hand clenched into a fist. His bicep bulged, muscles appearing from nowhere.
I whimpered. Jesus. Now I was whimpering?
Who was I? Why was I sweating and shaking and—staring at his dick. I was staring at his dick.
It was a very nice dick, long and with pronounced veins, but it was rude to stare. Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off it, especially when it jumped at my attention.
“Leander,” Verne warned when I stumbled three steps closer, barely any distance between us now. It was like they’d put that distance there on purpose, and that seemed cruelly unfair. “Slowly.”
Verne’s voice drew my attention his way, and I fell into his chocolate eyes the same way I fell into the deep, cashmere sound of his voice.
I staggered forward another step, like rope tied around my waist tugged me closer to him.
It was hypnotic, that stare. Or maybe it was the softness in his expression, or the memory of how his praise and encouragement lit up my soul.
It took me so long to drag my stare away from Verne’s soulful eyes that for long seconds I didn’t even see him.
Not until he smiled, fine lines crinkling around his eyes into skin almost as dark as the sky above.
The moonlight that managed to reach beyond the treeline silvered his cheekbones, his nose, and the cupid’s bow of his mouth.
So good looking, the sight of that face, a work of art, reached into my chest, fisted my heart, and squeezed.
My attention didn’t drift beneath his chest—broad but soft, and so inviting that I could almost feel how it would be to lay my head against it—but I saw the shadow of his cock from the edge of my sight and another whimper slipped out.
I felt the source of it now—from the wolf I’d coaxed into a languid snooze; not fully asleep, not awake but a presence that bled into my body, my voice, into the way my hands lifted, reaching for Verne.
“Sadie,” he said with something like sympathy, a whisper-soft breath of my name that slapped me around the face.
“You’re rejecting me?” I asked in a small voice.
“No!” Leander said loudly at the same time Verne said, “I am not rejecting you,” in a voice harder than I’d heard it.
He strode across the forest and halted beside Leander, dark eyes never once leaving mine. I swayed closer, chills moving across my whole body at the thought of touching them. They touched me when we were all wolves and it was… bliss. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was.
“You’re newly changed,” Verne said in that calm, man-in-charge voice that made me pause to listen. “It’s not just the physical changes, Sadie, it’s mental, emotional, and chemical, too. And with the mating instinct…”
Yes. Mating. That was a great idea.
I flowed even closer, but gentle hands caught my shoulders. “It’s about consent, Starlight,” Leander said, that same sympathy in his voice as Verne’s. I might have whimpered again, but I was too busy shuddering, my eyes practically rolling back.
“I know what consent is,” I breathed, a part of me appreciating the sound of that word on Leander’s lips.
I appreciated their consent too. Here I was, naked and throwing myself at them, and they were cautious.
My wolf hated that—she wanted to be on all fours, presenting herself to them—but the woman in me warmed to them because of it.
“I don’t need the dictionary definition of it. I do consent.”
This didn’t have to be anything more than sex. I wanted them. Judging by the cocks hardening before my eyes, they wanted me.1 A one night stand didn’t have to be with some guy you met in a club; it could be with two wolf shifters in a forest.
Jesus, that sounded insane. This mating instinct, though? It thought it was the best idea I’d ever had.
Leander’s hands felt so good on my shoulders. Warm, gentle but calloused, rasping over my skin as he ran his hands down my arms, then back up. I swayed again, and this time my chest met his. A groan came from my throat. Damn. Was this a wolf thing, or a mating instinct thing?
“Alianazara,” Verne said, drawing my attention as Leander stroked my arms, the touch pure except for the deeply sexual reaction I had to it.
“That’s not my name, by the way,” I said, but I didn’t really mind what he called me when he looked at me like that. Not calm, not even. As if he was dying of thirst and I was the first drop of water he’d seen in days.
“It means—” Leander began.
Verne’s hand covered his mouth, piquing my interest and curiosity until he met my eyes and asked, “Do you want me?”
My mouth went a little dry, the words working themselves through my whole body until I clenched, dripping down my thigh. I might have felt self conscious about how wet I was, but Verne had my entire attention and there wasn’t space for embarrassment.
“Yes,” I answered, surprised by the ragged quality of my voice.
“Do you want Leander?” he continued, his hand coming up to mould to my jaw, his thumb resting over my wild pulse. The moonlight loved him; I could tell by how it made his deep skin glow, by how it set his eyes alight and turned them to pure magic.
“Yes.”
Leander’s hands tightened where they brushed over my wrists, and the brief feel of them gripping me, binding me in his hold, had my entire body flashing hot. “Fuck,” he grunted. “You have no idea how badly I want you too, Starlight.”
Verne shot him a quelling look, and returned his focus to me. “Do you want Lainsz?”
A laugh burst from me, caustic and low. “Fuck no.”
Fuck yes, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I didn’t even look at where he’d leaned his naked ass against a tree, having the nerve to watch.2
Verne’s smile transformed his whole face from serious to enthralling. I blinked, dazzled for a moment until Leander’s laugh echoed from the treetops, startling birds into flight.
I focused on that—Verne’s smile; Leander’s laugh—to shut out the grinding, gouging pain in my chest that had been there since Lainsz’s rejection.
Why should I want that prick? I didn’t care what my wolf wanted—I was still in denial about having a wolf in the first place—I couldn’t stand the bastard, and I wouldn’t touch his big, mouth-watering cock if there was a gun to my head. Uh, I mean his tiny, pox-ridden cock.3
“It’s mutual,” the prick himself said, his voice sliding over my body as if he’d put his hands on me.
I gritted my teeth, shutting it out as I returned my attention where it belonged: the men in front of me. “So, ignoring that piece of shit,” I said with more acid than I meant, “You want me, I want you, and I fully consent. Maybe, uh, not here? I don’t fancy getting twigs in my ass crack.”
Leander snorted, his thumb sweeping over my pulse. “Back to the cottage?” he suggested, as if I knew what the cottage was.
I smirked. “You mean you don’t live right here, in the wilderness like boy scouts?”
“The cottage is metaphorical,” Verne said, grazing his thumb over my cheek before letting go. “It’s that patch of dirt over there. You see that log? That’s my bed.” I gave him a flat look. Undeterred, smiling, he went on, “That pile of leaves is our sofa. It’s comfier than it looks.”
“You’re so full of shit,” I laughed, and became very aware of my nakedness when I began to walk and everything jiggled in time with my steps. Heat crept into my face. I tried to ignore my boobs as they gleefully bounced around, freed of their usual enemy: the boob cage.
“I’m not looking,” Leander assured me quickly, lacing his fingers with mine on my right, while Verne walked at my left. Hopefully Lainsz walked his fine self into hell.4
I faced Leander, allowing myself to take in his tanned face—arranged into a neutral expression that didn’t fool me—his eyes—wide but dark, stained with lust—his wavy hair—messy and wild, an earthy brown colour but dipped in blue at the bottom, like he’d leant over a painting and his hair was the casualty.
He was exactly the kind of guy I’d have been drawn to on Earth, and yet…
there was definitely something untamed about him.
An edge that told me he was more than human.
“Looking at what?” I asked.
“Um.” He blinked. “The trees.”
“Yeah, a likely story.”
Verne, to his credit, definitely didn’t look, even if my boobs acted like I was on a trampoline, my ass thought it was an appropriate time to start twerking, and my thighs shook what their mama gave them.
He was a gentleman, through and through.
Not what I would have assumed of an alpha.
Mostly, I pictured those alpha male bros who threw their weight around, handed out orders as freely as STIs, and thought women existed to obey them.
Verne was… almost the exact opposite of that.
But then, I’d known him a whole hour. Probably best to reserve judgement until—nope. No until. After tonight, we were done.
One night, to dull the edge on this mating instinct, and then I’d…
actually, I didn’t know where I’d go. But that was a problem for later, when I had access to my full brain and wasn’t fighting hard not to watch their dicks swinging.
Wolfie Sadie didn’t care that it was rude to gawp at someone’s junk; she wanted to stare at those dicks with all the focus of a visually challenged person taking an eye test.5
“Oh,” I said when the path widened ahead of us, a clearing appearing around the world’s cutest fucking cottage.
It was a textbook cottage; really the epitome of the word.
Small, stout, with a thatched roof, brown walls, windows with glass so thick I couldn’t see through them—whorls imprinted on the old panes—and a little chimney puffing grey smoke into the dark sky, obscuring the view of two of the moons. 6 “Cottage.”
Verne’s smile was wider on one side, baring a sharp canine, and so fucking attractive I had to choke back a whine. “You got me. I lied about the patch of dirt being our home.”
“Shocker,” I drawled, shivering when Leander led me up the dirt path and pushed open the solid wood door.
Someone had recently painted it; the crimson paintwork was glossy and perfect.
Scents hit me as I walked into the cosy, low-ceilinged room, concentrated and more intense than in the forest. Marshmallow and wood fires and black coffee slapped me around the face, and I inhaled sharply—and then dragged a deeper, indulgent breath into my lungs.
My reaction was physical. Not just in the shiver of need that moved through me; the tightness unwound from my shoulders, the press of anxiety on my chest vanished, and even my pessimistic thoughts seemed to swirl away. I’d be fine. I was home now; everything else didn’t matter.
“Sadie,” Verne said, drawing my attention, a furrow between his brows.
My bare feet sank into soft carpet as I wavered towards him.
His voice was as luxurious as the carpet and the heady scents, and I didn’t stop until my hands splayed across his chest, my groan loud at the feel of his hot skin under my palms.
“Eyes on me, alianazara.” He tucked a strand of messy brown hair behind my ear when I lifted my gaze.
The intensity in his eyes softened the instant I did, his seriousness melting into something tender.
He had no right to look at me like that, like he cared, when we’d just met.
“Nothing has to happen today. The instinct is just that—instinct. It can be ignored, at least for a couple days.”
Leander scoffed, snagging a hair band from a handmade bowl and tying his hair into a haphazard bun, a swirl of brown and blue on his head.
“You’ve changed your mind about wanting me then?” I asked, proud of myself for the words being even and calm, not whining.
“No,” Verne replied quickly, a bite in his words. “No, I have not.”
“Good,” I said, and indulged the intrusive thought that’d been whispering at me for long minutes, reaching down to wrap my hand around his cock.
It was bigger than I’d expected, and heat stained my chest, pooling in my belly when I realised my thumb and fingers didn’t meet.
“This isn’t going to fit inside me,” I said, blinking.
Verne’s grin was slow, wicked in a way that suited him and gave me butterflies. “It’ll fit.”
“I think you’re severely underestimating—”
He caught my chin, brought my face up for a searing kiss. “It’ll fit.”