Page 34 of His to Hunt

“Victor!” I scream louder, my entire body jerking with every pulse of pleasure.

If this is Mother Fate’s doing, then I fucking love her. I’m ready to switch religions, just show me the way. But Victor isn’t Prince Charming or King of Everything. He’s a wolf shifter, and my brain still won’t—can’t—process that. My core is on fire, and his tongue is stoking it so perfectly there’s no way this isn’t as close to perfect fate as I’ve ever been.

He devours my pussy like a wild beast, and every time I meet his dark gaze, there’s a golden flame raging, consuming just a little more of me.

Is this really why I’m here? My purpose in life? Magic is real! Wolf shifters are real! My understanding of the universe has just expanded so much I feel like a cavewoman who just learned the sun will keep rising, even if I stop praying to it.

“Oh god, oh god, Victor!” I cry out, bucking wildly as my core detonates like a bomb.

I thought what we did last night was the most amazing thing that could ever happen, but his tongue is just as impressive as his cock. I cling to him until he drains every ounce of pleasure out of my body with his marvelous tongue.

Then my arms go limp and I fall back against the mattress, his tongue still deep inside me, my walls quivering on it. He gently slides it out, releasing his grip on my thighs. He leans back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a look of decadent pleasure on his impossibly handsome face.

I expect to feel embarrassed now that he’s not touching me. Exposed. Maybe even foolish. Instead, I feel worshipped in a way I don’t know how to accept yet.

“Why don’t you relax while I take a shower,” he says, checking his phone. “I’m sure I’ll hear from Saul soon.”

I raise an arm to ask if he wants… anything after that. The words die on my lips as my eyes close. He could do anything he wanted. My body is still here, even if my mind feels like it’s sort of melted and oozy around the edges.

I doze off, vaguely aware of him muttering angrily about how cold the shower is. He should feel it in the winter.

The next thing I know is that he’s shaking my shoulder. I open my eyes and he’s fully dressed, holding his phone.

“Saul’s ready to meet us,” he reports. “Get up and get dressed.”

“Oh, um, okay,” I mutter, stretching as I sit up.

I’m still tingling from his tongue, but resting my eyes seems to have helped. Truthfully, I haven’t felt the usual exhaustion that hung over me like a cloud before the curse was broken. I don’t feel frustrated, irritated, or annoyed. I feel kind of radiant.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” Victor murmurs as I get out of bed.

Rolling my eyes and smiling sheepishly, I reply, “I’m glad you think so, since you’re kind of stuck with me.”

My mind is still processing it, some mature part of me trying to be cautious while the rest of me proceeds with reckless abandon. My body certainly isn’t having any trouble processing anything. It already wants more.

“After the frenzy, things will be different. It won’t be so intense,” he says. “You may see things differently. May see me differently. I hope that isn’t the case, but the bond can wither if we don’t protect it.”

I don’t know whether that’s supposed to comfort me or scare me.

“Right now, it feels like I would die to protect it,” I admit, feeling the pull toward him.

“Me too, Taryn. And the first step is meeting with Saul.”

I’m so far out of my element, all I can really do is nod and get dressed. Except when I turn around, his brow is raised disapprovingly.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, almost feeling like I’m in trouble again.

“I love the way your ass looks in those shorts, but the rest of the world doesn’t need to see it,” he complains. “They have a hole in the crotch and if I didn’t watch you put on red panties, I’d know how little they hide, too.”

“I… I mean,” I look down at my raggedy denim shorts. “I guess I’ve had these shorts since high school. I don’t have much to wear.”

“One problem at a time. Find something more appropriate to wear,” he orders, gesturing to me. “We’ll sort out your wardrobe later.”

“Okay,” I acquiesce, swallowing hard.

I appreciate the protectiveness. I even like the possessiveness a little bit. The thought that he doesn’t want everyone to see what is his. Younger me would have fought this like Shana fought her parents until they finally just let her wear black lipstick to school. This feels different. I don’t know why, exactly. Maybe it’s just him.

I find a pair of jeans that are overdue for a wash, but he seems pleased with them.