My wolf snarls, and I feel the prickle of her claws at my fingertips. He still thinks I am a child. The thought feels like a burn from wolfsbane. I try to pull away, but his grip is like a clamp.
"Stop calling me that!" I snap. "I’m not a little girl anymore. And I am a werewolf, not some honey bee..."
"Oh goodness, you’re offended..." he rumbles against my ear.
I twist, but he keeps me pinned between his thighs on the porch steps. Finally letting go of my wrists, he traces circles over my hips. His touch feels warm through the denim fabric.
"Forgive me, Cee-Cee," he says. "What I meant to say was that our little princess is maturing so fast…"
He keeps his hands locked at my waist; digging those rough fingers into the dip of my hips. I feel a jolt in my nerves, but I grit my teeth. I am tired of being seen as the girl who crawls, following Brahm around with scraped knees. I’m definitely not a little girl. Half the men in this pack look at me like I am a piece of meat.
I will be of age in two months. So will Anne Marie. No one can stop us then.
"Yep," I snap. "And this maturing princess might find her mate at the party..."
He alternates spots, tightening his grip at my waist. I feel the muscle in his fingers flex through my blouse. That chuckle of his rolls against my spine, and my inner wolf stirs. She is restless, craving his approval. I grit my teeth. Why does she want this?
Every time I pry one of his hands free, he snaps it back like a predator.
"Let go, old wolf," I mutter, baring my human teeth again like a damn fool.
His chuckle vibrates through me. The smell of him (heavy alpha musk and ancient wolf) fills my lungs. My wolf joyously presses against my skin. Traitorous bitch.
"Finding your real mate?" His voice drops. He grabs me around my neck. "I doubt that..."
The words sting. My pulse pounds where his thumb presses into my jugular. How the hell would he know? Like as if it’s a known fact that I (Sienna Rightfield) is destined for nothing but loneliness. Never to find her true mate.
"Why?" I tilt my chin up. "The ceremony is sacred. Even you found your Luna at yours back on Pandora..."
His frown deepens.
"There will be plenty of princes from other packs at my party," I say. My heart hammers against my ribs.
His eyes darken, the gold disappearing.
"Like your father and I always say..." His voice roughens. "None of them will ever be good enough..."
The words feel like a claim. My wolf howls in my head. I stop fighting him and grip his thumbs in my palms. A prince can be challenged in my pack and stripped of his right to be my mate. The audacity of Dr. Greyson burns, but my heart skips a beat.
"Right," I scoff. "You, Marcus, Papa, Uncle, even Brahm... you would chase them all off. I will never marry at this rate."
I want him to be jealous. I want him to fight for me.
"Take your time, Sienna," he murmurs. His breath is hot on my cheek. He drags his thumbs over my waist. "Live a lit..."
"It is my life, Dr. Patrick." I roll my eyes; cutting him off, I cross my arms.
My inner wolf paces beneath my ribs. “Tell him,” she snarls. “Tell him you love him. That his scent is drowning…”
"All this talk about marriage so soon?" He speaks. The porch light flickers again (my magic spiking). He tightens his grip, and his fingers leave bruises. "And no one said you had to marry the moment you turned..."
"Who cares?" I tease.
His scent spikes, thick enough to choke me.
"I do," he says. "Your father. Uncle. Brahm. Marcus. We all..."
His Luna, Elizabeth, is waiting for him inside the farmhouse. But he does not let go of me. Alpha musk wraps around us. Patrick's ocean-blue eyes turn midnight. I recognize that look; Marcus wears it when Anne Marie struts around in that tight cream dress.
The air is heavy. My wolf whines in my chest. I tilt my chin away.
"Anne Marie wants the same thing," I quickly murmur. "A gentleman who actually cares. Marriage."
He digs his fingers into the soft dip above my hipbone.
"You two are so desperate to run from us, aren't you…?" His voice is gravelly.
I almost laugh. He thinks we want to escape them? Not just this rural cage of royalty?
"Why do you and Marcus care?" I challenge. My pulse jumps under his thumb. "Brahm is practically humping Trina's leg, and you say nothing. Why…?"
Silence follows. The arrogance is gone. I see him, really see him, jealous over me.
"Marriage takes you..." He pauses. I think of Elizabeth's diamond and moonstone ring. That should be “my” ring.
"Anywhere but here," I snap. "Little old rural Lakeview."
Patrick tightens his grip. Heat rolls off him. He smells of aged whiskey and winter pine.
"Let go," I demand, pushing him, but he hauls me closer. Our noses brush.
"You do not want fast living," he growls.
His voice vibrates through me, making my thighs clench.
“He smells like home,” my wolf purrs. “Our Alpha. He owns us. We can’t lea…”
"Of course I do!" I arch into him, ignoring her banterings. "I need a prince to whisk me away. This slow life is suffocating..."
His eyes ignite a fiery blue.
"Why have a prince," the words rumble through my ribs, "when you can have a King?"
That is not Patrick's voice. It’s his wolf, Naeo's growl. My knees go weak.
"I should find Anne Marie," I lie, stepping back, but my heel catches the edge of the porch step. He catches me before I fall, dragging me flush against him.
I sink my fingers into his steel thighs to balance myself. His scent is sharp. He hisses as I drag my nails over his dress pants, teasingly.
"Sienna." He moans. Naeo glows in his eyes. "You're so goddamn beautiful." His thumb catches on my lip; the skin is rough and dry. "My chocolate drop," he says, twisting a curl until it tugs my scalp. "All those pretty little..."
His pale fingers look strange against my mocha skin. He traces my collarbone.
"You look like Sierra," (my mother) he says. He glides his thumb over my lashes. "But these eyes..." (Green blue like my dad’s). "Enough to drown in."
He crashes his mouth onto mine. I find his zipper. It is cold metal against my fingertips. I slide it down. He breaks the kiss and breathes hard. I see grey boxers straining. I want to see the rest. Something my dreams won't show me.
"Look at you," Naeo rasps in my thoughts. "My little princess playing with..."
My fingers shake as I pull him out. He is thick and glistening under the moonlight. The head pulses. Pre-cum beads at the tip. It feels slick in my palm. He swipes the fluid with his thumb and paints my bottom lip with it.
"Taste."
I lick it. It tastes sweet.
"Mmm."
"I taste like trouble," he smirks. Naeo's blue glow hits my face. His cock twitches. "Don't..."
I squeeze the cockhead anyways. He settles his hands on my hips. They are heavy and warm.
"I've never seen a cock so perfect," I breathe. He throbs against my fingertips.
"Ohhh, Sienna... Yes," Patrick breathes. He kisses me hard.
He tangles his tongue with mine. It tastes sweet but salty. Naeo's presence vibrates under his skin, making my pussy clench. He grazes my lip with his teeth. They feel sharp. A warning. Any moment his fangs could drop. Wet heat floods my thighs. My wolf whimpers.
"Finally, we get to see it. That joy stick is beautiful, huh, Sienna?" she purrs.
"Indeed, it is," I think. I stroke him and listen to his moans.
A thick vein pulses against my palm. I wonder how much bigger he’d get if I took him in my mouth. My panties are soaked now; the fabric just rubs the wrong way.
"It looks like Naeo is happy to have me touch him so," I say, staring into his fiery blue glow. He tightens his grip on my waist.
"Yes!" He breathes. His eyes turn gold and blue.
His smile suddenly show fangs. I want him to mark me, but he has a wife. I let him kiss me deeper. When we break apart, his breath is hot.
"Princess," he murmurs. He brushes my swollen lips with his. "You're playing with forces you don't quite understand."
"Is it fire? The force I'm playing with?"
He smiles. He slides his hands up to my breasts, pinching my nipples. I gasp. He pushes his tongue past my lips. We kiss then break apart.
"Sienna..." he starts.
"I like fire," I cut him off.
His growl vibrates in my ribs. He tightens his grip on my hair. I twist my wrist on the upstroke, smearing the pre-cum. He smells like musk and rain.
"Sweet, Honey Bee," he groans, clenching his eyes shut.
He is panting. He throbs wildly. I stroke him faster, then slower, twisting my wrist until his thighs tense.
"Oh, Sienna," he whines.
"Bad, little wolf," Naeo's voice presses into my mind. He says he could flip me on the porch and shred my jeans, giving me the proper claiming I deserve.
I shouldn't do this with my father's married friend. The danger is thick like the fluid on my fingers.
"Give me more," he demands. His fangs scrape my lip.
The porch light flickers. My vision blurs as I stroke him. He pulls me closer and closes his mouth over my nipple through the blouse. I arch into him. His tongue is hot.
"You’d probably taste like sin," he murmurs. He grazes the peak with a fang; then licks it.
My wolf surges: "Mate. Claim. Now."
He suckles the other nipple until I ache, making the fabric damp. The denim of my jeans rubs between my thighs.
"Oh, Patrick," I pant. "I-I'm sorry... I meant Dr..."
He slides his hands down to my hips. I want them lower. I fall silent. Because I am a princess of Blue Moon; and he is the wolf king of his hive. This isn’t right of us.
He settles his palm at my throat and cups my breast with his other hand.
"No, please...?" I beg, feigning that I don’t want what I know I’ve been craving for the longest.
He squeezes. My nipple stiffens between his fingers and I whimper.
"Uhhh, yes!" I breathe. Oh goddess, the feeling is exquisite.
He smirks, tracing my jeans above my damp panties. He’s messing with me.
"Please?" My hips jerk toward his hand.
"Shhh, Honey Bee," he murmurs. He rubs over my clit through the rough fabric. "I know what you want... and I can give it to you. Just let no one..."
His cum drips down my wrist as I squeeze his cockhead. It feels like hot wax. He tenses, kissing me. My orgasm hits, making my cunt clench tight around nothing but wet silk.
Patrick throbs in my hand, his release painting my skin in white stripes. He circles my nipples with his thumbs.
"You're mine, Princess," he growls. "No one will ever touch you..."
"But..." I breathe. He brushes my nipples.
"You're forever mine," his mind-link echoes. "Not some prince’s..."
He drags his thumbs over my damp blouse. Right where he’d been suckling me. I shudder.
"Please?" he murmurs, eyes fixated on me.
The wooden porch steps dig into my knees as he forces me down. I kneel. The splintered wood bites into my skin. He smells like a winter storm.
"Mate. Ours. Obey," my wolf whimpers in my skull.
I shiver. I am royalty, but I remain kneeling like an omega. Like how he wants me. I think of his wife’s wedding ring.
"But Dr. Greyson, you're married... to Mrs..." I murmur.
The words taste like bitter herbs. His own band glints under the moonlight.
"Listen to me, Sienna. Our fates are tangled in ways you can't even comprehend right now. Everything will one day change."
The bluish glow of his eyes fade. He traces my nipples through the soaked fabric, anchoring me between his thighs. His cock is still half-hard in my hand. The cum is cooling on my wrist.
"You're scent claimed now," my wolf purrs all proud.
"No! But what about...?" I whisper in my psyche.
"You can never leave me." Patrick murmurs. His words carry a command. "Never be with anyone else. Never let them touch you. Stay innocent for me."
"Yes, Alpha," my wolf answers immediately in my head.
He spans my throat with his palm.
"My little chocolate chip cookie. Ebony goddess. Cee-Cee, I'll slaughter any prince who dares ask you to..."
And I know exactly what he’s about to say: “Dance.”
"You can't do that," I stammer. His pupils blow wide, swallowing me and my will to fight back.
"Oh, but I can. Try me." He pinches my nipple again. I shudder. "I'm their Superior Alpha."
My clit throbs. I bite my lip.
"Do you understand me?" His chest vibrates against my head.
I look down. His knot is still tight and rounded. Like as if we’re mates, bonded and claimed.
"Yes, my Alpha," I whisper. Every prince coming to the party belongs to his hive. He’s got total control. Only the Blue Moon wolves are rebels he can’t command. My pulse thunders.
"Good girl," he smiles and it’s devious.
The moonlight hits us: Gia, our Moon Goddess, highlighting the sin we should’ve never committed tonight. I think of Mrs. Elizabeth; still waiting inside for him.
"Dinner's ready!"
Anne Marie pops her head out the screen door. She sounds a little too cheery. Patrick jerks his hands off me and cleans my wrists so fast I barely see it. He’s too old; ten thousand years of speed makes him efficient. Marcus stands just behind her. Anne Marie has this look on her face. She knows. My cheeks feel hot; my skin itches. She looks at Patrick (his back is a wall) and then at my knees on the porch step.
My wolf whines in my ear. "She smells him on you..."
Annie's nostrils flare, her half-wolf surfacing in her eyes. She catches the alpha musk on my skin. She sees my pulse jumping in my neck and the way Patrick grips the railing until his knuckles turn white.
"Don't keep your Momma waiting..." She sing-songs, shutting the screen door with a click.
"That little shit," my wolf snarls and I almost laugh.
Annie wrinkles her nose and backs away. Marcus looks at his half brother through the screen before the front door is shut.
"Who cares! Let them scent who owns us..." my wolf echoes.
Patrick looks at me like a puppy dog. Headlights hit the driveway. Brahm is in dad’s navy blue truck. I feel a sharp spike of panic. Patrick's fingers twitch against my collarbone. He smells the air, looks at Brahm, and then looks at me.
"Inside," he says. "Now. Straight to your room..."
He waves at my twin.
"Welcome home," Patrick says as Brahm steps out the truck. "Brahm, my boy! How was football practice? Wolf Springs’ golden boy, huh…?"
He’s trying to distract him. Brahm's boots thud on the porch. I smell Patrick's release on me; it is sharp and heavy.
"Mine," my wolf snarls.
I rise quickly and turn away. My knees shake. I feel the wetness between my thighs and look down. It's a sticky dampness soaking into the denim of my jeans. Shit. He blasted cum on me. I barely make it inside the farmhouse before his voice hits me.
"Hey, Cee-Cee!" Brahm calls out.
"Hey!" I say high pitched, tossing a glance back over my shoulder.
I enter the farmhouse, shutting the front door only. Thank the goddess. The living room is empty. I scramble up the stairs. The wood groans. I reach the bathroom, slamming the door shut and twisting the lock.