Page 18

JASON

S unrise stabs through my eyelids. I blink awake to moss pressing into my cheek and pine needles poking my bare ass. Again. My mouth tastes like wet dog and bad decisions.

"Naked in the woods. Classic Tuesday."

The cold air raises goosebumps as I dig through my emergency clothes cache—a hollow log stocked with sweatpants and a Camp Lightring hoodie that smells like laundry gone feral. My joints pop like bubble wrap when I stand. Transformation hangovers hit harder than tequila nights.

Memories crash through the fog—Mira's shivering form in the tree, Alice's flashlight beam trembling as she stood her ground against a monster. Against me . I’m sprinting toward staff housing before the second shoe drops.

Alice’s cabin door flies open before I can knock. She’s cross-armed in Hello Kitty pajamas, hair mashed flat on one side. The smell of instant cocoa hangs thick behind her.

"You look like a Yeti that lost a bar fight."

"Good morning to you too, Sunshine." I peer past her shoulder. "Mira’s?—?"

"Julie’s got her wrapped in like twelve blankets by the fire. Kid’s already demanding extra pudding cups as 'trauma tax.'"

The vice around my ribs loosens. "And you? Last night was..."

"Insane? Soul-shredding?" She leans against the door frame, cocking her head. "Let’s go with ‘educational.’ Turns out werewolf transformation videos on YouTube? Not HD enough."

I scratch my stubble. "Bet the comments section didn’t mention the drool."

"Or the naked woodland morning-after walks." Her smirk fades. "You stayed though. When I asked. Even as..."

"Course I did." The words come out gravel-rough. "Always will."

Her throat bobs. A beat stretches between us, taut as a tripwire.

She breaks it first—of course—with an eye roll. "Get in here before someone sees you. Your hoodie’s inside-out."

I step into the cramped cabin, sidestepping a laundry pile that’s 90% novelty camp t-shirts. She thrusts a chipped mug into my hands. It’s hot enough to brand cattle.

"Thanks for the swamp water."

"Don’t thank me yet—it’s the powdered stuff from an envelope. Who knows how old." She flops onto her bunk, knees drawn up. "So. Wolf-you. Impressive sniffing skills. Ever think about careers in airport security?"

"Knew you’d make it weird." I sip the cocoa. It’s 60% marshmallow fluff. Perfect.

"Guy becomes literal Big Bad Wolf and I’m the weird one?" She kicks my shin, toes poking through neon unicorn socks. "Please. Head counselor caught me sneaking back. Told her we were ‘doing night survival training.’ Now I’m teaching fire-building at noon."

"Want me to howl for dramatic effect?"

"Maybe I do." Alice’s eyebrow arches, a challenge glinting in those blue eyes. The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s already won.

"Oh, you’re asking for it." I straighten up, rolling my shoulders like I’m warming up for a wrestling match.

Her smirk falters for half a second, and that’s all the encouragement I need.

I tilt my head back, letting loose a howl that starts deep in my chest and ends somewhere between a campfire ballad and a wolf’s midnight serenade. It’s loud enough to rattle the windows.

She jolts, spilling cocoa on her unicorn socks. "Jason! Shut up !" She lunges at me, smacking my arm with the force of someone who’s clearly never been in a fistfight. "You can’t just—people are going to hear! Men aren’t even supposed to be in here!"

Her voice wobbles, and then she snorts, doubling over with laughter. It’s the kind of laugh that makes her eyes crinkle and her cheeks flush pink. My chest tightens.

I can’t help it. I laugh too, the kind that starts in your gut and leaves you wheezing. We’re a mess, both of us. Me in my inside-out hoodie, her covered in cocoa stains, and the cabin smelling like wet dog and cheap marshmallows.

Her hand lands on my shoulder for balance, and I glance down at her.

She’s close, close enough that I can see the faint freckles dusting her nose, the way her breath catches when our laughter fades into something else.

Her laughter dies down, replaced by a quiet that feels like the woods at dusk—electric, waiting.

"Jason," she starts, but her voice falters.

"Yeah?" My voice drops low, rough around the edges.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, her hand slides up to my neck, pulling me down to her level.

Her lips meet mine, tentative at first, like she’s testing the waters.

I freeze for a heartbeat, then kiss her back, slow and steady.

The cocoa mug slips from her grip, thudding onto the floor, but neither of us care.

Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my hoodie, and I don’t think—I act.

I take her by the waist, backing her toward the bed with a low growl that’s more human than wolf but carries the same intent.

The mattress hits the back of her knees, and she tumbles onto it, her laughter hushed but wild in her eyes.

“You’re in a hurry,” she teases, her voice breathless, but there’s a flicker of something darker in her gaze. Something that matches the primal hunger clawing at me from the inside.

“You’re not?” I yank the hoodie over my head, tossing it somewhere behind me.

The sound it makes as it hits the floor is lost under the sound of her gasp when I lean over her, caging her in with my arms. Her hands are already working at the waistband of my sweats, and I don’t stop her as my cock bobs free.

Her pajama top rides up as she shifts under me, and I take the opportunity to pull it off in one swift motion.

Her skin is warm, flushed from the rush of it all, and I drag my mouth along the curve of her shoulder, down to her collarbone.

She arches into me with a soft moan that goes straight to my gut.

“Jason,” she murmurs, her fingers tangling in my hair as I nip at her skin. “I want you.”

My hands slide down her sides, tugging at the waistband of her pajama bottoms until she lifts her hips, letting me strip them away.

She’s left in nothing but those ridiculous unicorn socks, and something about the contrast—the innocence of them against the way she’s looking at me—makes me laugh, a low rumble in my chest.

“What?” she demands, her voice sharp even as she scrambles to pull me closer.

“Nothing.” I kiss her again, slower this time, letting her feel the weight of me as I settle between her legs. “Just you.”

Her hands roam my back, nails digging in as I press against her, and when I push my cock inside her, her breath hitches.

She’s tight, warm, and the sound she makes—half gasp, half moan—sends a shiver down my spine.

I freeze for a moment, letting her adjust, but she’s having none of it.

She rocks her hips, urging me on, and I give in.

Our rhythm is frantic, desperate, like we’re trying to outrun the world outside this cabin.

Her legs wrap around me, pulling me deeper, and I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her.

Her breaths come in short, sharp gasps, and I can feel the tension building in her, mirroring my own.

“Jason,” she whispers, her voice breaking on my name. “Don’t stop.”

I don’t. I can’t. Not when she’s like this, writhing beneath me, her nails leaving marks on my skin.

Not when the wolf in me is howling for more, for her, for this.

I drive into her harder, faster, until she’s clenching around me, her body shuddering as she comes undone.

Her cry is muffled against my shoulder, and the sound of it almost pushes me over the edge.

Her hands grip my shoulders as I flip us, her laugh breaking into a gasp when she lands on top of me.

Her hair falls like a curtain around us, blonde strands catching the sunlight filtering through the cabin window.

She braces herself on my chest, her fingers splaying over my skin, and I can’t help but grin up at her.

“You’re in charge now,” I tease, my voice rough as she adjusts, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of my hips.

Her smirk is all confidence, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—nerves, maybe, or anticipation. She shifts, and the friction makes my breath catch.

“You’re not the only one with moves, wolf boy.”

“Prove it,” I challenge, my hands gripping her thighs.

She doesn’t hesitate. She rocks her hips, slow at first, testing the angle, and I hiss through my teeth. Her laugh is breathless, her hands moving to my chest for balance.

I growl, my hands sliding up to her waist, any possible retort cut off by a moan as she sinks down onto me, taking my cock deeper.

Her head tips back, the line of her throat exposed, and I can’t resist sitting up, my mouth finding her skin.

She tastes like salt and sweat and something uniquely her, and the sound she makes when I bite down—soft, sharp—sends a jolt through me.

Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as she grinds against me, her rhythm faltering but no less intoxicating.

“Jason,” she breathes, her voice breaking, the tension coiling in her, her body tightening around me.

“That’s it,” I murmur against her skin, my hands moving to her hips, guiding her. “Let go.”

Her cry is muffled against my shoulder, her nails digging into my back as she comes undone. I hold her through it, my own release building with every shudder of her body. When she collapses against me, I let go, my hips snapping up as I follow her over the edge, my release flooding into her.

Her forehead rests against mine, her blue eyes soft and unfocused. “Told you,” she whispers, her voice a little smug, a little dazed.

I laugh, the sound low and rough. “Yeah, you did.”