Page 17 of Wolf Duke

Except then the she-wolf smiled sweetly, batted her lashes, and said: “Tell me about rutting season.”

Leto have mercy.

Alaric swallowed hard as his cock twitched. “You know that mated she-wolves can only conceive between January and March, and if they do, cubs are born in May?”

Somehow, her smile grew even sweeter. “Of course, but I feel like there are so many other details to share. Interesting details.”

Perspiration broke out on his temples. “Cubs are very precious because so many stars must align. It’s not just the time of year—she-wolves mated with a male must also go into a week-long breeding heat. That doesn’t always happen. But if it does, for seven days they, ah…”

“Rut?” said Evaine, her green eyes glinting. “Anytime, anywhere?”

“Yes,” he growled. “But a she-wolf’s breeding heat is so powerful, it affects the entire castle. Most feel the lust. The need. A king must be lenient, for he is liable to come across rutting in the most unexpected of places. Alcoves. Privy chambers. Staircases. Against tree trunks. Crushing Cook’s herbs in the garden. Dangling over a damned rampart...”

She giggled, then bit her lip. “And you, King Alaric? Do you feel the lust? The need?”

Until you arrived at my castle…no. Now it is the only thing on my mind.

After a thousand-year walk, they finally reached Evaine’s chamber. He’d never been more relieved to see a door in all his life; a few more steps and he’d have confessed all his raw, carnal thoughts. “Here we are, princess. Your chamber. I hope you enjoyed the banquet, and wish you a good evening.”

Evaine stared at him, her gaze searching. Then she dipped into a low curtsy. “Thank you for the escort. Good evening.”

Once the chamber door shut, Alaric took a long, slow breath. Then he hurried to his library, carefully closing the door behind him before marching over to the fireplace and resting both hands on the carved stone mantel. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the flames, desperate to regain control. But in the blink of an eye he’d removed his doublet, unfastened his hose, and gripped his aching cock. The swollen head was already wet with seed and Alaric used it to ease his way, gliding his palm up and down the thick length, squeezing roughly with his fingers.

He groaned, his mind betraying him once more as it offered the portrait of a naked Evaine on her hands and knees in front of him, her thighs spread wide to reveal her glistening center.

“Yes,” Alaric muttered, his hand moving faster. “Show me that sweet cunt. Is it burning to be filled, Evie? Do you need my cock so deep you feel it in your soul?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Horror flooded him at the soft words. Yet as he turned his head, no matter how hard he willed it to be untrue, two facts remained. Evaine stood in his library in a linen nightgown and heavy brocade robe, her hair flowing around her shoulders. And he’d quite literally been caught with his hose around his knees, handling his engorged cock.

“What are you doing in here?” Alaric roared. “My private rooms? Did you not consider knocking?”

Her emerald gaze never leaving his, Evaine untied the sash around her waist and let the robe fall to the floor. “I did consider it, yes. But then I’d have missed a most magnificent sight. As to my purpose…I’m pouncing.”

“Pouncing?” Alaric repeated, solely for time to regather his thoughts. His senses demanded he tear the offensively modest nightgown from her exquisite form so he might view her once again.

“Indeed,” she replied, straightening her shoulders, before awkwardly removing the remaining garment and tossing it away, the most erotic disrobing he’d ever witnessed. “Since you so rudely abandoned me in my bedchamber, I decided to invade your library. I’ve waited long enough, Alaric. Pleasure me.”

Chapter

Four

Evaine gulped in tiny, panting breaths as she waited for Alaric to respond to her outrageous demand.

As a cub she’d been known as Evaine the Bold, yet it had taken more courage than she’d thought possible to leave her bedchamber and walk to the king’s library. However, she’d then seen a sight now seared in her mind for eternity: Alaric, half-naked, touching himself.

Thinking of her so intently he’d given her a nickname.

Show me that sweet cunt. Is it burning to be filled, Evie? Do you need my cock so deep you feel it in your soul?

Only such raw, lusty words could have provoked her to disrobe. But although she stood naked, the chilly night air caressing her skin, Alaric’s glittering gaze might ensure she never felt cold again.

“Well?” she said imperiously, folding her arms and tapping her foot, but her gaze kept returning to the tempting sight of his huge bobbing cock. What would it be like to hold that length in her hands? To stroke it? And the pearly fluid coating the swollen, almost purple head…what did that taste like?

A slow smile curled Alaric’s lips as he removed his hose, revealing long, heavily muscled legs. Then he prowled toward her, a hunter, an alpha male, every inch King of the Western Lands. “You dare to hide your breasts from me?” he said slowly as he circled her. “I forbid it.”

“Oh?” Evaine replied unsteadily, as his dark, delicious scent wrapped itself around her like a cloak, hardening her nipples and provoking a gush of moisture between her thighs. “You forbid it? Someone alert the realm!”