Page 14

SEBASTIAN

Eight years later . . .

The bear careens into my side, locking his jaws around my scruff. We go down in a pile of limbs and fur, and I roll until I have him pinned. Seven years old, and he’s already a good size, but his movements are still uncoordinated.

I chuff.

Again .

Miles snuffles and charges me, and I yip playfully as he tackles me. We roll down the hill through the wet spring snow, and this time, I let him pin me, my chest swelling with pride.

Claire cried for hours after our son’s first Change. I know she’d hoped he wouldn’t get the shifter gene — that she wouldn’t have to tell him I’m not his biological father — but I nipped that in the bud.

Miles doesn’t need to know the details of what his mom went through with Murphy, but it’s important to me that he knows his story. He’s my son, genes be damned, and I never want him to feel ashamed of what he is or where he came from.

These past six months, I’ve made it my mission to help him acclimate to his animal. Anytime Adrian calls the pack together for a run, I take Miles along.

It might be unorthodox for a bear shifter cub to run with wolves, but I’m determined for my son to grow up surrounded by pack. Eventually he’ll need the guidance of grown bear shifters, but for now, he’s content to be one of us.

Getting to my feet, I shake off the snow and jerk my head toward the house. We might not be able to communicate animal to animal the way two wolves can, but in the six months since his first Change, we’ve developed our own language.

Miles barrels past me up the hill, and I wag my tail. He wants to race.

The first one through the back door gets to watch whatever they want on TV. Little does he know I’ve rigged this game so I nearly always lose.

Our cub barrels toward the sliding glass door, shifting mid-stride. He whizzes into the kitchen with a victorious shout, and Shadow scampers out of the way.

“I win!” Miles hollers, balancing on one foot as he tugs on his sweatpants he left by the door.

I chuff, still in wolf form, and pad upstairs as my cub flops onto the couch.

Being a bit of a sore loser is part of the charade.

The scent of sunshine and honeysuckle envelops me as I reach our bedroom door. Nudging it open, I go straight for the bed and nuzzle my wet nose into my mate’s limp palm.

Claire wakes with a start but relaxes when she sees me. My bones crack as I shift back into a man, and by the time I’m standing on two legs, I’m already hard for her.

“That was fast,” Claire murmurs as I snap the door shut, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her curly blond hair is adorably disheveled, and there’s a pink imprint from the pillow across her cheek. She lifts an eyebrow and rubs her bump, which is straining at the thin material of my T-shirt. “Or should I say slow ?”

Claire knows all about the little game I play with Miles. These last few weeks, she’s taken to dozing off while our three-year-old naps. She’s been running herself ragged setting up another location for Nine Lives, and even though she has people who could pick up the slack, I know the work brings her joy. So I keep Miles entertained during nap time to give her some much-needed rest.

I wouldn’t normally wake her, but judging by the roundness of her belly, we’re going to have a newborn any day now. Having been down that road twice before, I know that once the baby gets here, it’ll be a couple of months before I get to worship her beautiful body again.

“I love seeing you in my clothes,” I growl, climbing over top of her. “Almost as much as I love seeing you out of them. ”

Pushing up the hem of my T-shirt, I plant a soft kiss on the crest of her bump before working my way down between her legs. Her panties are already soaked, and I let out a very wolfish growl as I spread her creamy thighs and press another kiss along her center.

Fuck, I love every version of my mate. I love it when she sinks to her knees and looks up at me with those big blue eyes. I love it when she puts on her old cut-off shorts to clean the windows in the spring. I love seeing her in new-mom mode, sweaty and beautiful and utterly exhausted. But I especially love seeing her big with my pup.

Her tits are deliciously swollen, and her scent is even more enticing than usual. I circle one nipple with the pad of my thumb, delighting in the way she arches off the bed.

“Were you dreaming about me, angel?” I murmur, reaching down with my other hand to caress her through her panties.

“Mm, maybe,” Claire whispers, her cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink as she rolls her hips into my touch.

“It better have been me,” I chastise, delivering a light swat to her swollen clit that has her stifling a cry in the pillow.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the eight years we’ve been together, it’s that Claire fucking loves it when I get all feral and possessive.

I wish I could say this was a performance I put on to please my mate, but it’s just in my nature .

“You are mine ,” I remind her, cupping her mound in the palm of my hand and rising up to meet her gaze. “This pussy belongs to me. It is mine to pleasure.”

“It’s yours,” she agrees in a breathy whisper, reaching up to run her fingers through my hair. Her gaze turns serious as she pushes an errant strand of hair off my forehead. “I am yours.”

“Good girl,” I rumble, yanking the thin fabric of her panties aside to reveal her perfect pink pussy. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this ache between your thighs.”

Pausing to admire my beautiful mate’s glistening wet folds, I plunge my tongue into her channel and groan at the taste of her. Her essence is somehow even sweeter when she’s pregnant, and I can’t fucking get enough.

Licking a trail up her center, I slip my fingers inside her to replace my tongue, stroking that magical spot along her walls. With my other hand, I massage her poor aching clit, dragging the lace of her panties over the tender flesh until Claire is whimpering into the pillow.

Her walls squeeze my fingers as she comes, and I can’t take it anymore.

Fisting the soaked lace, I rip off her panties and plunge into her wet heat. Claire gasps as I catch her still in the throes of her orgasm, and I shudder as she milks my cock.

“I can’t wait for this baby to come so I can get you pregnant again,” I growl, tweaking her hard little nipple and watching in wonder as it becomes a sharp point .

Claire moans, thrusting herself down over my cock in a way that rips a snarl from my throat.

She is so wet for me, and I am so fucking close. I drive into my mate until she’s whimpering my name into the pillow, barely able to hold back her cries.

When I feel her topple over the edge again, I let go — filling her with my cum.

I collapse on the bed and pull her against me, listening to our slowly synchronizing breaths and smiling as our three-year-old starts to babble in the next room.

It’s strange. With the shitty parents I had, I never thought I’d have pups of my own. Meeting Claire changed all that.

From the very first moment I locked eyes with my angel, I knew that anything of hers was also mine. Mine to protect. Mine to love.

She’s made me the happiest male alive three times over: first when she asked me to give her my mark, then when she made me a father to Miles, and again when she gave us Lucas.

These days, I have to take my alone time with Claire whenever I can get it. Between the kids and the cats, it’s a full house, and it’s about to get even fuller — full of love and play and afternoon trysts, and it’s all thanks to my mate.

You’ve reached the end of Stalked by the Wolf , but there’s more of Sebastian and Claire!