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I come.

It is like a cataclysm going off inside my head. I think I might scream, but I’m not in possession of my wits and cannot be sure. The thrusts are slowing, the delicious passage of his slippery knot making me spin faster. He snarls over me, then surges deep and stills. Inside, I feel the pulsing, heavy gush of his cum filling me all up while the erotic thrill of his knot pressing against my inner walls sets me soaring again.

His teeth find my throat, nipping against the mark he made the first time he claimed me—an achy pain blooms, shooting yet more pleasure through my core.

Seven

I cannot say that I like wolves well, but for the most part, I can tolerate them.

Tolerance is a stretch when applied to Jude, also known as Wolf. I want to rip him from her sweet cunt, skewer him until he is nothing but a bloody pulp, and show her how astagruts.

These are not the pure thoughts a Master Stag should harbor. They are dark and a little unhinged. Every time he touches her, the imagery of his death gains greater depth and ever more colorful detail.

“I brought food,” I say, battling to regain control of my antlers. They are large and inconveniently prone to snagging the low tree branches when the rest of me is in human form.

Blue beats his tail as he sits obediently at my side. He is a happy, dim-witted hound who has done an admirable job keeping pace with us. I drop one of the rabbits on the floor, and he takes it to the lee of a big oak, where he crunches enthusiastically.

“Can I see your antlers again?” she asks.

I make a point of sitting down lest I fall prey to the urge to skewer the bastard while he is knotted in my sweet doe.

“When Wolf has finished with his theatrics… and you have cleansed in the river.”

“Oh, do you like his nickname too?” she asks shyly. “Oh!”

Jude growls, his hips rocking and distracting our little doe. “He means it in a disparaging way,” he says.

“I really did,” I agree, unable to hide my smirk.

The mutt, chowing down his rabbit breakfast, yips as if seeking to contribute to the conversation.

I should walk away. Wait until they are done fucking.

The image of her pinned to the rough blanket on the forest floor with his cock rammed between her legs is a source of great conflict. On the one hand, I like well the lusty sounds she makes as he ruts her. Her sweet cries are a pleasure unto themself. But that it is the damnWolfand not me bringing those cries to her lips, stuffing his fat knotted cock into her, gives birth to a feral side of me that I have never met before.

I tell myself that I do not mind sharing. I expected to do as much. She is a doe shifter, after all, and it is understood that they often have more than one mate. But I am also the Master Stag, and I do not like this dynamic where I must yield to this arrogant former pack enforcer.

That he appears as besotted with Fawn as I do is his one saving grace and the only reason I have not skewered him already.

“We should be leaving,” I say. “We have much ground to cover.”

My eyes, resting upon her flushed face, shift to the wolf bastard to find him glaring at me over the top of her head.

He smirks, pleased with himself for annoying me.

I tell myself that I can wait until we are back in my herd, where the balance of power will shift assuredly toward me, but this is a challenging time all around. I have allies there… and a secret weapon of a kind. She will love him; she will likely love them both. Although Nox is a test, he has always been my second.

I reach to pet the mutt, who finished with his breakfast, is lazing at my feet. His coat is wiry under my fingers. His tail beats at the ground from even that simple touch. Having a pet is not the way of our people, but Fawn is attached to her dog. At the risk of her never leaving her home, concessions had to be made.

My stag wants nothing more than to assert his claim over what he believes is his—but I have reached the rapid point where I would grovel for any crumb of her attention.

It is a very unsettling and unfamiliar feeling to be at such a disadvantage.

Chapter Fourteen

Seven

One week earlier…