Page 35 of WitchBorn

Finn blinked, his expression changing a few times as he processed my words, but he held firm.

“Run away,” I told him. Would the pheromones of my heat turn whatever half-human mortal thing he was into the beast of desperation like Zephyr and every other of my lovers in the past had been? “Before the heat catches you.”

“Heat?”

I gripped the hoodie, tugging it up, showing the backward bend of my knees, and my feet more hooves than feet. “I’m an animal, can’t you tell?”

“Is this because I touched your antlers?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I think the Autumn king triggered it. He tried before by the creek.” This time the heat was too far aroused to be shoved back. Maybe I was overdue, or maybe he’d hoped for a way to claim me as his mate.

“What can I do to help?” Finn asked.

I wanted to demand he fuck me, but that wasn’t fair. “Run away.” I curled up in a ball, the pain of need ripping through every vein as it rolled through my blood.

“Will it go away if I leave?”

“No.” An unserved heat could last for days, and nothing I could do alone would fulfill the demand of my body and the magic’s desperation to grow.

“Then I’m not leaving.” He folded his arms across his chest.

Stubborn man. “I can’t promise I won’t rape you!” I shouted at him, trying to make him afraid. He might claim he played both sides of the field, but screwing the pretty little fawn boywas a whole other ballgame. The longer the heat lasted, the more frantic for relief I would become, and my mind already clouded with the demand for release.

He stared at me for a moment, then unfolded his arms and lifted his hoodie up off his chest over his head and tossed it aside.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Can’t rape the willing,” he said as he shoved down his sweatpants, baring his body and his hard cock. “If this is what helps…”

“You’re not willing. It’s the pheromones making you feel this way. You don’t want me.” No one did. I was a tool to be used.

He spread the pants and top out beneath him and sat down at the base of the tree, legs splayed to show me howinterestedhe was. The fact that he wasn’t jumping me, forcing me onto my stomach to shove himself inside, confused me. “I’m willing, but it’s your choice.”

“I have no choice!” He couldn’t understand what the heat meant. The pain, the desire, the relief and how amazing it actually felt when I finally came, no matter how much I bleed from whomever used me.

“You do,” Finn said. “I can’t stop this thing from happening to you. I’m sorry if I caused it. But I’m not afraid of you, and I want you to have the choice.” He remained at the base of the tree, rooted and waiting, his dick hard and leaking. He didn’t touch it. I could imagine what it felt like inside. Thick and long, breaching me, slamming into me, filling me with his spend which would erupt from me in waves of magic.

I cried and rolled on the ground, rubbing myself in the grass as if it would help. It didn’t. My ass ached for the stretch and the slamming glide of a cock tunneling into me. I rolled over to glare at him. Why wasn’t he coming unglued at the pheromones and magic allure? He sat against the tree, shoulders tense, cockstanding straight up, his eyes half lidded as he panted, hands gripped on his knees.

Control. I’d never met a male of any species with that level of control.

“You can’t be real,” I whispered.

“One hundred percent real,” Finn said. “But it’s your choice. I am here. Willing.” He let out a long stuttering breath. “Hornier than I’ve ever felt in my life. Holy shit, but yeah, one hundred percent real.”

Twenty-Six

WESLEY

Ihesitated. Heart hammering in my chest, lungs tight, gaze glued to his cock. The idea that penises were ugly, shattered by the beauty of his. Long, thick, uncut, the hair surrounding it trimmed to frame it like the treat it was, a nearly otherworldly perfection.

“Fuck,” I growled. A drop of liquid slid from the opening and my mouth watered, gut churning with the idea of a single drop of his seed lost when I could make magic from it. “You’re not real,” I repeated.

“I am,” he insisted.

I tiptoed forward watching the precome glide over the wrinkle of his foreskin and pause as though ready to drip away. “Can I?” I licked my lips.

“Anything you want.”