Page 49 of Taken By The Wolves (Blackwood Forest #2)

REED

I run through the forest like it belongs to me, my paws sinking to its moss-soft floor and jumping its ancient roots.

The ache in my side is dulled now, a shadow of the pain that nearly ended me.

Cami’s potions were bitter as sin, but I drank them without flinching, because I had no choice.

The world wouldn’t have stopped turning because I bled all over it. I could fight or die.

I chose to fight.

My breath moves steadily and deeply, filling my lungs with life as my limbs stretch in time with the wind. The scent of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. This is peace, or something close to it. But peace has edges now. War made sure of that.

I circle back to a place I haven’t visited since before the final battle. A grove by the cliffs, shadowed by rock and overgrown trees. This is where Aura hid. The woman who brought Ahya into the world disappeared like mist at sunrise.

Her scent is gone now. Rain washed it away long ago. But I remember it. She left more than a child behind. She left questions that no one can answer.

Does she wonder about Ahya? Does she think about the child who shifts between forms as easily as water slips through fingers? Does she lie awake in the dark and ache with regret? Or did she give Ahya up in her mind long before her body walked away?

I don’t know. I may never know.

But Scarlet? Scarlet has taken that child into her heart, wrapped her around the twins growing inside her, as if she were born to be her mother. And maybe she was. Fate is strange like that. The goddess’s plans are a constant source of mystery.

Scarlet’s love for Ahya is fierce and selfless, but it comes with a fragility I recognize, because if Aura ever returns, if she tries to reclaim what she abandoned, Scarlet’s heart could break.

The forest shifts around me. Quiet becomes stillness. Stillness becomes tension.

A cry rings out across the sky.

I lift my muzzle, curious.

It’s not a wolf.

It’s not a bear.

It’s not anything I’ve heard in my life.

A heavy rush of air follows, like sails snapping on an old ship, but faster, larger. I stop dead in my tracks, eyes scanning the tops of the trees that sway and bend, and the clouds that merge and blend as they drift into the horizon.

There’s nothing.

But there’s a scent in the air. Faint. Foreign. Burnt metal and ozone.

All that talk of dragons was nervous mouths painting myths with fear. I told myself they were wrong. That was panic talking. Ahya’s existence had suddenly made the impossible possible. But the age of monsters is over.

But what if it isn’t? What if those scouts saw something real.

What if the creature Cami feared was in the skies over Blackwood? What if it was never Gregory who summoned it… but something else? Something like Aura’s magic?

My skin prickles beneath my fur. My wounds may be healed, but the past still clings to my bones. I shake it off. Not today.

Today, I turn away from the ghost of Aura and the imagined wings in the sky.

Today, I run back to my family. To the warmth of Scarlet’s hands. To the wild spirit of Ahya. To the babies waiting to be born and the legacy we’ll build with love.

Today, I run home.

***

The scent of the cabin reaches me before it comes into view.

Smoke and pine, honey and jasmine from Scarlet’s hair, the faint sweetness of Ahya’s skin, the steady scent of my brothers.

I crest the last ridge and find Scarlet waiting, seated on the front step, her hair loose around her shoulders, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

She stands when she notices me, barefoot in the dirt, and walks toward me with her palm outstretched and a fond smile playing at her pretty lips.

I don’t shift. I don’t want to yet.

I press my muzzle into her palm, and she gasps, then smiles, her other hand sliding through the fur behind my ear, her fingers small and warm.

“Reed,” she whispers.

I nuzzle into her neck, breathing her in, licking the edge of her jaw where her pulse beats fast. She laughs softly and presses her forehead to mine.

“You’re beautiful like this,” she murmurs. “All soft fur and soft eyes. Mine.”

I let her hold me, wrapping her arms around my furry neck, grounding me in a way nothing else ever has. When I finally shift, I do it slowly, letting my body melt back into human form, still crouched in front of her, bare and vulnerable.

I rise to my feet and pull her against me, wrapping my arms around her and tucking her close. She’s warm and smells like home, and I bury my face in her hair, inhaling deeply as I let the rhythm of her body pull the tension from my shoulders.

Her hands move over my back, stroking gently, lingering on the ridges of old wounds and new scars.

“Come inside, baby,” she whispers. “It’s cold.”

***

Nixon and Finn murmur over papers strewn across the table. We’re expanding the business, and Finn is pushing to make furniture production a greater part of our business. He’s worked on plans with Scarlet that look solid. Now, he has to convince Nixon.

They both glance up, their eyes softening as they take in Scarlet, bundled up in the thick, red, oversized cardigan she practically lives in now, her cheeks pink from the cold and her boots dusted in frost. Their posture relaxes.

Hell, I feel it, too. The bone-deep satisfaction of having a mate has changed us all.

She doesn’t have to ask for anything. We’d give it all to her before the thought even leaves her lips.

I yank my sweater off the back of a chair and pull it over my head. “Colder than a witch’s tit out there.”

Scarlet snorts, eyes gleaming. “How many witches’ tits have you fondled, exactly?”

I grin. “Do you want the honest answer or the one that keeps the mystery alive?”

She lifts her hands, laughing. “Forget I asked. Between the shifters, mystics, and actual wolf-bear-babies in this house, I’m maxed out on supernatural weirdness. Let’s not add witches to the mix.”

I stalk toward her, a slow prowl, sliding my arms around her waist. “Good. Because the only tits I want to fondle…” I cup her breast through the fabric, my thumb teasing her nipple until it pebbles beneath my touch and she gasps against my throat, “are yours.”

Her hands go to my hips, and she raises a brow. “You’re not wearing pants.”

“All the better to fuck you,” I murmur, pressing my hard length against her stomach.

Scarlet’s laugh is half-moan now, her nails dragging lightly up my spine. She’s always been this way; fire and humor, sweetness and hunger. Every time I touch her, it’s like discovering her all over again.

Nixon groans from the table, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Can we please get through one day without the big bad wolf references?”

I bare my teeth and snap them gently near Scarlet’s neck, earning a squeal and a giggle as she tugs me closer. “Our mate tastes like heaven,” I growl. “I’d huff and puff and blow down this whole fucking cabin to get to her sweet pussy.”

“Reed,” Finn says without looking up, “for the love of all that’s holy, put on some goddamn pants.”

Scarlet leans into me, her voice low and teasing. “Don’t. I like you like this.”

I grin wickedly. “See? She’s the boss.”

With one smooth motion, I scoop Scarlet into my arms and turn toward the table, ignoring the groans behind me as I brush the paperwork and plans onto the floor with a casual sweep of my arm. Finn curses. Nixon sighs.

I lower her onto the table like she’s the offering, and I’m the one who’s seeking the goddess’s favor. Scarlet’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t protest. She watches me with that soft, glowing gaze that says she’s mine in every way that counts.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, kissing the curve of her cheek, the pulse point beneath her jaw, the place behind her ear that always makes her tremble.

I tug open the cardigan and push it off her shoulders, followed by the soft cotton tee she’s wearing.

Her skin is warm under my palms, her belly round with our children.

I kiss it gently, again and again, trailing my lips along the rise of it, marking her with my scent.

Scarlet moans, fingers tangling in my hair as I move lower, my mouth mapping her like a man memorizing home.

“Reed,” she whispers, the word catching like it’s too big to hold inside.

My chest tightens, too full of love, too heavy with gratitude. I undress her slowly, reverently, peeling away the last layers of fabric to reveal the woman who carries our future and holds our past together like it’s nothing. I don’t rush. She deserves more than hunger. She deserves worship.

She reaches for me, pulling me down, and I go willingly, bracing myself over her, fitting my body to hers like we were shaped by the same stars.

“Make love to me,” she whispers, her eyes glossy, her hands reaching for my brothers, too. “I need all of you.”

Nixon moves first, coming to her side, brushing hair from her face, and kissing her forehead. Finn’s slower, more hesitant, always the careful one. But he steps close, dragging his knuckles along her arm and lifting her hand to his lips.

And then it’s the three of us.

Our clothes fall away, scattered like the papers we swept to the floor, and we come to her with love spilling from our lips.

Scarlet gasps as Nixon kisses along her throat.

At the same time, Finn’s hands explore the curve of her hips, and I take my time at her center, tasting her, coaxing pleasure from her until she’s bucking against me, wild and out of control.

She arches beneath us, body trembling, so close to breaking, so close to flying apart, and we catch her with mouths, with hands, with love so fierce it burns through the past and binds us tighter to the present.

She cries out as we bring her over the edge again and again, her voice a song that only we know the melody to. When I finally push inside her, she sighs like she’s finally home.

And I am home. Here. With her. With them.

Her lips find Nixon’s as I move inside her, and she reaches for Finn, drawing him closer so his mouth can discover her breast, swollen and sensitive. It’s all tenderness. All heat. All trust.

Scarlet lies beneath me, her skin glowing in the soft amber light spilling from the hearth, her eyes wide and dark with emotion. She gasps as I move inside her like I’m carving my name into her soul.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper, my hand splayed across her belly. “I’ll always have you.”

My wolf rises with the need to bind us together. My knot pulses, swelling with every thrust, threatening to breach her tight entrance and seal us.

Her body trembles, her gasp caught between pleasure and something more primal. She’s mine now, in every way that matters.

When I pull back, her eyes lock with mine, and she touches my face, lips parting in a soft moan. “Reed.”

“You feel so good,” I grind out, hammering into her. “Like you were made for my cock.”

I grind my hips into her, dragging my pelvic bone against her clit, giving her the pressure she needs as she grunts and whines, begging to come.

“Fuck, Reed. Oh, fuck.”

She’s so slick that it’s coating my balls as they draw tighter.

“Give it to me, Reed. Give me your knot.”

“You want it? You want this big dick to fill you up and seal you shut?”

Her fingernails rake my spine. “Yes. Give it to me. Give it to me…” She arches her neck, grabbing hold of Nixon’s arm on her left and Finn’s hand on her right. “Like that. Fuck. Please… oh, fuck, please…”

I thrust hard, my pulsating knot driving inside her, stretching her wide, hips snapping like a machine, and she cries out, her pussy clamping in waves that are so tight, my vision becomes white light as I fill her with my seed.

My climax punches through me so hard, I lose connection with the world around me, yanked into blackness that spins with pinpricks of light, pleasure roaring through my body as she clings to me.

I press my forehead to hers, staring into her lust-glazed eyes, as she contracts around me again.

“Feels. So. Good,” she gasps, gripping the back of my neck and wrapping her legs around my waist, sealing us together in her own way.

Sweat drips from my pecs to her breasts and coats our skin where we’re joined. Her scent rises around us, making Nixon and Finn growl for their own turns.

They have to wait at least twenty minutes for my body to release her, and this time is mine. I relish her around me, peppering her face with kisses.

Her body bears three marks, proof of what she is to us.

Scarlet. Mate. Mother. Magic.

My brothers will take their turns to show her what she means to them, and after, we’ll curl around her, our hands resting on her belly, over the lives we’ve created. Her skin will glow. Her eyes will flutter closed.

With every kiss, every touch, we remind her, and ourselves, that love can rise from ashes. Sometimes, fate takes the shape of a woman with fire in her hair and passion in her soul.

Once, we ran wild beneath the moon, all teeth and fury. But now, we sleep with Scarlet’s heartbeat beside ours. The big bad wolves still live in us… now, they have something to protect.

And in that perfect moment, clasped tightly inside my woman, I whisper the only truth I know, accompanied by my trademark smirk.

“Even big bad wolves can be tamed by the right woman.”