Page 25

Fawn

Wolf left me in a rush. Then I sat on the table, staring at the mess he had made for a long time, lost in thought.

He came on me—all over me. He pushed some of it inside me.

Goddess weep, that was so hot.

I hope he will do it again. Preferably very soon.

Is this him claiming me? I believe that it is. Only I am sticky and a little uncomfortable, and despite his determination that I stay in this condition, I believe it must have been a more heat-of-the-moment comment that he did not intend for me to take seriously.

I get down, clean up, then rummage in my chest of drawers for clean pants and a shirt. Being clean and dressed does not help; I am still aflutter inside.

“Bleeeeehhhh! Blehhh!”

Goodness, I had completely forgotten about Greta. I am amazed my damn goat has not wandered off.

I collect her leash from the peg by the door and return her to the paddock. The gate is unlocked—I have a sinking feeling that might be down to me. I put her back, firmly close the gate, and then check on the chickens.

In my mind, I am not feeding chickens. I’m constructing a new scenario where Wolf needs to strip me of my pants and spank my bottom again. Maybe I should remind him that Greta was out and explain how I might have left the gate open. Would that be considered only a little bit bad and result in the kind of spanking I would like?

I pause beside the barn to count the eggs in my basket. One, two, three, four, five—not a bad yield.

A sudden growl and the pound of approaching paws startle a squeal from my lips. The basket of eggs goes sailing through the air and lands against the cobbles with a loudcrack. I spin around to find Wolf bearing down on me.

He shifts a pace away, carrying me with him and pinning me against the side of the barn with his hands braced to either side of me, trapping me there.

“Oh,” I say in a breathless rush. “That was very masterful.”

“Fawn, is there something you wish to tell me?”

There is a tick thumping in his jaw. I have seen Wolf cross on occasion—I have seen him very cross.

He looks absolutely furious today.

Maybe now is not the best time to confess I left Greta’s paddock gate open…

Also, I am not sure what I have done to make him so angry. My mind rushes over everything that has happened since he left. Maybe he was serious about the not cleaning up business. But really, if that is his issue, I am going to take exception.

“No,” I hedge. “I do not think there is.”

His eyes narrow further, and he growls. “No? Are you sure? No secrets that you have been hiding? That now would be a good time to confess?”

I have a terrible panicky feeling that he mightknow. Only, how can he? I have been very careful, told no one, and have not shifted in many days.

My eyes search his, trying to find the answers there.

I shake my head.

“Nothing at all?” His eyes lower to my lips. I think he’s going to kiss me.

He doesn’t. He leans his head right down and whispers close to my ear. “No reason why some bastard stag shifter should turn up demanding we hand over his fucking queen.”

I gulp. “Oops.”

That letter, the one my mother mentioned sending, but I thought she had not…

“Fawn?” he growls next to my ear. “I am still waiting. And oops is not a fucking answer.”