Not just ‘cause I want to see Lochlan eat the floor again. Or Killian take a few punches in the face.
I also want to watch the bunching of muscles as Killian spun and kicked Lochlan’s leg out from under him, how he smoothly returned to standing, bouncing ever so slightly on the balls of his feet, no victory or even exertion in his expression, only cold intent.
A shiver slides down my spine, curling into my belly.
I don’t like Killian but that doesn’t mean I can’t admire parts of him. I wish I was strong enough to kick Lochlan’s ass.
And it’s not like Killian did that for me. He’s the alpha. Lochlan broke his rule about females and young. Killian was making an example of him. It wasn’t about me—no matter what my wolf thinks.
She’s oddly reserved considering her earlier excitement. I thought she’d be urging me to shift and go hump his leg.
She was excited enough when he was doling out the beatdown. And there was a moment—when he delivered the first kick to Lochlan’s leg, and I figured out what he was doing. I got excited, too. Not sexually. But there were tingles. I know he didn’t do it for me, but that hopelessly na?ve part of me that’s never grown up could pretend, for a second, that he’s our champion. Ours. And nobody better fuck with us.
Now I’m the silly one because the idea stirs something between my legs. What would it hurt if I let myself daydream a little? Only until I drift off to sleep.
Killian shifting in a rage when another male dares to touch what’s his.
Killian breaking a male who made the mistake of messing with me.
Another chair on the dais for me, a place of my own. He glances down. I nod. And then he destroys my enemies. Fangs and claws. Muscles and fists.
It’s a seductive fantasy. Dangerous and impossible. The stirring grows and spreads, though, growing wings, fluttering and swooshing below my navel. The stiff cotton of my nightgown teases my hardening nipples. My hand slips between my legs.
I’m restless. I part my thighs. I’m wet. I slip my fingers between my folds and find the stiff, aching nub.
I picture Killian’s wolf bowling into Gael, murder and possession blazing in his golden eyes.
There’s a howl from the porch right outside my window. My heart leaps into my throat.
I snatch my hand back and snap my knees together.
It’s him. Even without peeking through the curtain, I know.
The window’s cracked. Oh, Fate. There’s no way he can’t smell my arousal. It’s thick in the air.
Killian’s wolf howls again.
Come outside.
I scramble for resolve. My wolf is gonna bolt. She’s awake and on edge, and he’s so close, and she’s—I’m—so off center. So needy.
There’s a scuffling at the window. He’s wedging his snout into the opening. Thank goodness the wood is old and swollen. The sash is not gonna budge.
He growls in frustration, and then backs off to howl again.
Let me in.
I tense my muscles, prepare to fight my wolf for our skin.
But she doesn’t make a move. She plops herself down, and puts her snoot in the air. She’s ignoring him.
More howls, so loud they shake the window pane.
Come out. Come out. Come out.
My wolf lets forth a series of yips and snarls.
Go. Go to the other female. Go on. Go.
Then, she daintily crosses her paws, rests her chin on them, and dramatically closes her eyes.
No way. She’s pissed that he let Haisley rub up on him. I guess the rush of his dominance show has worn off, and she’s remembered that she has beef.
His wolf is quiet for a few moments, but then he howls again, louder, blustering and bombastic. I don’t need my wolf to understand him. He sounds like any male called on the carpet by his female—it wasn’t his fault the other female came onto him. My wolf’s being too sensitive. Making a mountain out of a molehill. He’s sorry, but he didn’t do anything wrong, and my wolf’s being a real bitch, but he won’t do it again.
Since she’s so mad.
Over nothing.
She has no more time for him. She snuffs and lets herself fade in my consciousness.
He howls like he’s been done all kinds of wrong.
I’m jumpy—he’s a monster, and he’s losing it on my porch, and I can’t forget what he interrupted—but I’m not scared. Because my wolf’s not scared. She’s put his wolf in time out. And I’m a million miles away from cracking a smile, but—it’s funny.
After a few more minutes of Killian’s wolf howling at the moon, I creep over and shut the window. He keeps on going, but it’s somewhat muffled.