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Good. She’s not interested in knowing who I am.
In that case, there may be a next time.
The idea of stalking her late at night, fucking her hard from behind, and never letting her see my face is not just deeply satisfying–
It might be the only way I survive the rest of this year.
Chapter Three
Lotta
I run toward the rear of the school, my body still alight from what happened on the mountain.
I can’t believe it. I’ve never had sex on a full moon run before. I never even had the desire. Tonight, I was incapable of refusing that male from the moment I caught his scent. I wanted sex like I’ve never wanted it before.
Ugh. This is why I didn’t want to shift.
I didn’t want to give into my wolf nature and get entangled here in Wolf Ridge. Yet, I can’t deny how satisfying it was to allow my animal side out. And I don’t mean for the run although that felt amazing, too.
I mean the wild, rough sex.
I’m still feverish and hot. Trembling with desire for that male. Both satisfied and needy at once.
Who was he?
I kind of love that he didn’t allow me to see him. He doesn’t want me to know who he is. That means he’s not looking to tie me down here.
And he was careful with me. He pulled out, eventhough I desperately wanted him to come inside me. He had more control than I did.
He’s older, perhaps. Certainly far more dominant.
What does the intense reaction I had to him mean? He’s not–he can’t be–my mate.
Or is he?
Fuck.
If we’re mates, he would’ve recognized it first. Males have an easier time identifying the scent of their mate than she-wolves.
He would have known it the moment he picked up the chase.
Yet he didn’t want me to know who he was.
Does that mean he’s already mated?
Oh, Fate.
The idea turns my stomach. Did I just have sex with another woman’s boyfriend or husband? That’s disgusting.
But of course, if I’m his fated mate, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. Not under the full moon in his wolf form. No matter his commitment to another female, the full moon runs reveal our most authentic nature. We can’t stop our urge to hunt. To screw. And if nature shows us our true fated mate, to claim.
This is where the human lore about werewolves comes from. The idea that we turn into monsters who can’t stop ourselves from killing is partly true. It’s just that we don’t kill humans. We hunt game. We stalk the opposite sex.
This is exactly why I tried to suppress my wolf side. I can’t be this out of control.
But I should be glad, I guess. If that male truly is my fated mate and is already bound to another female, it would provide me with an even stronger reason to get the hell out of Arizona as soon as this substitute teaching contract is up.
And it would mean he wouldn’t stop me or follow when I fled.
