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She pulled his hand to her chest to cup her breast. He massaged gently through the layers of silk as she combed her fingers through his thick hair. A soft moan slipped past her lips, affirming his touch was a means of calming her discomfort rather than a means to satisfy his carnal needs.

“Winter will come early this year,” she said, voice soft and husky as her warm breath teased. “You can hear the cold approaching when the westward winds whine through the trees, and we can see it in the leaves. Perhaps your mate will be easier to find in the spring.”

“Perhaps.” He hoped that was the case. “When Evander was called to you, did you sense him trying to find you?”

She slouched lower and parted her thighs, lacing her fingers with his and pressing his hand against her apex. “Not at first, but over time we found our mental link. From there our connection only grew. By the time your brother came to me, we were already in love.”

“So, there was no hesitation on your part?” He harbored fears that his mate would reject him.

“There is no force stronger than a wolf’s imprint. It’s greater than gravity and consumes us until there is no other loyalty besides that to our mate.”

Gravity was a good comparison. But while gravity pushed them into the earth, an imprint pulled him toward his mate. “It’s definitely stronger than gravity.”

“The fact that you’re able to resist the pull tells me it’s still early. Over time, the call will grow until it’s all you can feel. I was anxious for Evander’s claim. Anxious to meet all of you. But he was beyond reason when he finally found me. Ravenous and resolute, as if he held the pressure of all the planets on his shoulders and would not be right until our bodies aligned.”

Darius dutifully lowered to the floor when she nudged him, kneeling at her feet and opening her knees. Aware of what she wanted, he pressed a kiss on her soft flesh and traced his tongue higher.

Lumira’s fingers tightened in his hair, drawing his mouth to her honeyed lips. “Do you know the story of the raven’s red leaf?” She eased back and moaned when he licked inside of her.

“Yes.” He rasped, nuzzling closer. He took his time savoring her rich flavor as he swirled his tongue through her delicate folds.

Stretching her arms overhead, she sighed. “Perhaps you need to hear it again.”

He moaned in agreement, his focus now on her pleasure.

“You see, when the Norse gods grew tired of man’s wars, they left a gift.” She stroked said gift down his arm. “The pelts were fit for heroes. The gods wanted to end the wars of man. But when the pelts were discovered, it was by a corrupt father and his trusting son, not the brave warriors the gods had hoped for.”

She gasped, rolling her hips, as he closed his lips around her sensitive pearl.

Her legs delicately quivered as she continued the story in a breathy rasp, “The father and son donned the pelts and transformed into wolves. A killing spree ensued. The father, easily intoxicated by power, led the rampage until there seemed no one left. Such greed for power corrupted his mind, and the father eventually attacked the son—his only heir—out of fear that the boy might usurp him as pack leader. But the son got away. Nevertheless, the father’s behavior angered the gods.”

She shuddered through a delicate release. Once the tremors subsided, she guided him from the floor and directed him to the chaise, loosening his belt so she could fist his length. Her slender fingers closed around him, firmly stroking, and he sucked in a deep breath, holding his arms at his side.

“The lethal wound should have killed the son, but the gods took pity on the boy as he lay bleeding on the forest floor, fur matted andwhimpering in pain. Desperately, he howled at the heavens for mercy. Unlike the father, the gods saw goodness in his eyes and cause for redemption in his heart.”

Straddling his hips, she lifted and slowly teased his engorged length against her sex. When he reached for her, she caught his wrist in an unbreakable grip, a stern warning flashing in her eyes. He sank back into the chaise, surrendering his control and balling his fists at his side so she might use his body as she pleased.

The Luna belonged to all of them, but their touch must be invited. They must never assume what was in her heart.

“The gods sent a kind raven with a gift,” she said, releasing his muscled arms.

Darius sucked in a sharp breath as she took his length inside of her to the hilt. Slick heat dragged along his shaft, squeezing him like a glove as the tension in his back loosened.

Lumira rode him at a leisurely canter, her hypnotic beauty mesmerizing. No matter how often he saw her this way, her devotion to her personal pleasure always left him in awe. She was a stunning creature, unapologetically confident and graceful in every move.

“When the raven found the boy, it gave him the crimson leaf spelled with the highest powers. The magical leaf could save him, but if he wanted to use the spelled leaf, he first needed to kill his father and undo the gods’ mistake.”

Her lashes lowered as she moaned, her longfingers trailing over her breasts. Folds of silk shifted in an entrancing tease as his gaze fixed on her chest. The peaks of her usually pale, peach nipple flashed engorged and dark, like the inner petals of a rose.

“The son wanted to survive and, therefore, promised whatever the raven asked of him.”

Her self-exploring touch trailed to the long column of her throat. Darius’s vision narrowed on her breasts as his lashes lowered. He ached to hold her hips but would not violate her command unless invited to touch her body.

“The boy was young and naive and didn’t fully understand the laws of nature. The red leaf was made of blood magic, the darkest, most powerful black sorcery drawn from the dead and dying. Blood magick is sewn by the hands of mages and comes at an inescapable cost—only death can pay for life.”

She leaned forward, riding him faster. Her claws extended, slashing through his leather shirt as she gasped in pleasure. Her pale blonde hair formed a curtain that blocked the glow of firelight, and their breath mingled. His fists remained locked at his sides despite the agonizing temptation to steal control from her.

“There was great pain,” she said, exposing his chest and pressing the sharp point of her claw over his heart. “The bird used its beak to pack the wound with the magick red leaf, but the boy screamed and shivered, a great fever taking hold of his senses. When the wound was sealed with amixture of wine and mud, his bones started to pop and break. Fur became flesh once more, and the son’s body was transformed back into that of a man.”