Wolf-Love, Installment #8

Wolf-Love

Installment #8

    Great. You’re standing in the dark like a creep and my dog says hi.

    He forgot the dog’s head was pressed to his hand. Easy to do when you got nailed to the floor. Right where his feet touched wood, German grew roots all the way to the bedrock. Then his spine erupted, blasting heat through his body like the vacuumed detonation of a bomb, and every strand of hair protruding from his skin lifted.

    Toward her.

    His brain finally registered the twining of his guts. It was the same sensation he’d felt earlier when he’d caught her scent, only this time her voice lassoed itself around his insides and cinched them taut.

    So that he couldn’t breathe.

    Although his heart rammed so hard against his sternum it hurt. He locked eyes with the woman before him, even in the dark.

    Holy mother-effing-Luna what have I gotten myself into?

    But he knew. Like he knew how far he could go before his blood got too hot and he transitioned. Like he knew when he was happy, his missing tail wagged. Like he knew when a human hunter had him lined up in the cross-hairs.

    Sofia was his destined mate. The one creature on the planet who could move him on a cellular level, and it was the rogue.

    Who flipped on the lights, practically blinding him because he couldn’t pull his eyes off of her.

    She stood before him indignant, and if his nose was right? His rogue seeped the subtle strain of attraction. He smelled her heat kindling where her long legs joined that wondrous rump he’d been admiring since he’d arrived on this damned farm.

    He felt himself harden for her, his body readying to claim his mate, to mark her as his own. Felt his fangs slide through his gums and the walls of the barn sharpen into crisp focus.

    He flicked one muscle to lift his foot toward her and froze, hit by the proverbial wrecking ball as he realized what he was about to do. He was about to reveal himself to claim a mate who wasn’t even wolf yet, who didn’t even know what she was, and who would probably be dead in a few days, slain by his very hand.

    He was appalled. Transfixed. And most certainly doomed.

    Because even if she lived through her transition? He had to return her to the Compound in exchange for his freedom.

    What kind of fucked up universe did he belong to?

    Beat it, buddy, before I kick your ass.

    He did as she directed. He ran as if the hounds of hell nipped at his heels.

    Because they did.

    Because no matter how he looked at it, he was fucked up seven ways from Sunday and there was no one to save him. Not even the rogue who would have been his salvation.

    ~S.C. Dane

    Keep peeking for the next installment: #9.

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One response to “Wolf-Love, Installment #8

  1. torture, I tell you! I hate and love that I can’t read more until you’re ready to give us more.

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