Wild (Savage Alpha Shifters 1)

The purpose I feel right now at having someone to care for is a sensation better than any, other than fucking her.

I fetch a quilt from the back of the armoire and pull it over her, noting that more fogginess from going so long without shifting is lifting. I’m still somewhat unaccustomed to my form, still searching my mind for memories of certain things that feel fuzzy, but things are trickling back. Mating my woman helped; I believe that. I’m thinking more like a man now, about the things I need to do to make the house nice for her, the things I’ll want to provide for her. Thinking about fucking her again.

She’s still asleep and with a peaceful smile on her face as she curls into me to borrow some of my warmth. I’ll happily share it with her, all of it, everything I have and all that I am, until my dying day.

This feels different. Something comes over me. Something odd. As I close my eyes it occurs to me that there’s a feeling in my chest, a rightness that’s deep in the center of it that I’ve never felt before.

11

Ivy

My eyes open and I’m immediately reaching below my waist for the quilt I spot. I’m naked. I’m naked and I’ve been screwed. I’m in the werewolf’s cabin. In his bed.

Screwed.

Screwed like I’ve never been screwed…

My eyes dart around the space I’m in as I clasp the beautiful nature-inspired patchwork quilt to my chest. The room is warm. Overly warm, actually. The fire isn’t crackling like it was when I went to sleep, but there’s still all sorts of heat emanating from the glowing embers. This room is dusty, so dusty I could write my name into the dust on the nightstand with my finger.

The sun streams in from a window that’s only half covered with a red, green, and white tartan curtain. I’m in a double bed that’s against the wall, lying on a rumpled flat sheet that’s only over one corner of the bed. My clothes from last night are over an Archie Bunker style upholstered chair beside the fireplace and my boots are on the floor. I see my bag on the floor too, so I shakily reach for it and haul out a pair of black yoga pants, a black jersey hoodie, a purple tank top, a white and black zebra print bra, and black undies. There are pink thong flipflops there too, which is good. I’d brought them thinking they’d work by the pool and hot tub. I glance over at my new purple Uggs; they should be muddier. They look okay, astonishingly. My eyes take in the rest of the room. A tall weathered-looking armoire that takes up a whole wall. The walls are wood paneling, but they’ve been painted white. The floor is varnished, knotted plank wood. The small corner fireplace has a dusty dome-covered clock and oil lamp on the mantle. A painting hangs over it of a willow tree with a tree swing, seven puppies playing under the tree with seven little boys. Not puppies, wolves. The painting looks amateur, but also kind of good, in an A. A. Milne-like abstract way.

My eyebrows shoot up. Is all this real? The ache between my legs tells me it is. I bite my lip and block the memories from washing through my brain because I don’t want those memories right now. That sex was… supernatural. Yeah. Like this entire situation.

I dress quickly before peeking out the door. All is quiet, so I move out of the room into the short hallway where I see two other doors. One is closed. The other is a bathroom. Good, because I need it. My legs and thighs hurt like heck from last night’s … ordeal. Activities. I need to use the bathroom and then I need to make like a tree --- and leave.

It’s a dusty, sparse bathroom with a big old white clawfoot tub and pedestal sink as well as toilet and small towel cabinet. The light works. The mirror is a bit fogged up and the air is humid. He’s taken a shower recently. This place does have electricity.

I use the facilities, noting basic toiletries on the shelf over the bathtub, which has dust and droplets of water from the recent shower. A green bar of soap. Green shampoo bottle. I catch my reflection in the mirror and my eyes look strange. More purple than blue. I do a double-take, figuring maybe my skin is just pale from my ordeal and that it’s the lighting in here, but then I spot the mark on my neck and my eyes are forgotten as my hand flies to the place where it meets my shoulder. I see the mark he made. Teeth imprints. It’s pinkish, almost like a branding mark, but it doesn’t hurt. He broke the skin last night but there’s no scab. When I touch it, I get a very odd sensation. I frown at my reflection as I rub it and goosebumps rise on my body. My mouth drops open. Oh my good gravy… that feels like… I rub it a little more and then I shudder. My nipples are now erect.