Page 35 of Hexy Beast

I’ve spent my whole life holding on to my control and focus so I won’t turn into only the wolf no matter my form, like my father and grandmother did. Lately, however, it’s been harder to ignore the jagged sense of yearning—of needing something I can’t even define.

And now, when I’m kissing Effie as she rubs herself against my aching hard cock, I can feel my control start to snap, one thin thread at a time.

My hold on her ass tightens, and I bring her to a stop, holding her against my dick for one last frustrating second before I lift her up and set her back down on her side of the blanket. Her full pink lips are swollen, her brown eyes are hazy, and her light auburn hair morphed from waves to uncontrollable curls in the water, and now it’s going every which way. She looks absolutely ridiculous sitting there drowning in my clothes, and I’ve never been more turned on.

Effie Sherwood is simply the sexiest witch I’ve ever been cursed with—something my wolf and I agree on.

And if the fact that the two of us are in agreement that we want her more than any woman we’ve ever been with doesn’t set off a million warning sirens in my head, then I’m just as much of a fool as Nikos believes I am and as selfish as my father. There’s too much at stake for the pack for me to be either of those things.

I end the kiss with brutal efficiency, cutting things off before I lose control.

“I’ll keep watch,” I say as I stand up, needing to add some distance between us. “You should get some sleep.”

All the just-been-kissed haziness in her gaze disappears as she narrows her eyes at me. “Look, if you’re not into me, you can just tell me.” She lifts her chin a few degrees and crosses her arms. “I’m a big girl. I can take it.” She lets out a long sigh thick with frustration. “And honestly, it’ll be easier than dealing with all this want-you-don’t-want-you whiplash.”

It’s a fair request, and she’s not wrong. I’ve been fighting with my wolf about her since she popped out of thin air earlier today and landed on my lap, and she’s had to face the brunt of all those mixed messages.

“So maybe you stop being such an asshole and keep kissing the girl,” my wolf says.

That can’t happen. Kissing Effie is as close to giving in to my wolf—not transforming physically, but taking on the impulsive, wild, give-me-everything-now, me-above-everything-else personality of a wolf—that I’m willing to do. To go further is a mistake that my father and grandmother surrendered to that nearly destroyed my pack too many times before.

There’s a difference between transforming into my wolf while holding tight on the reins and letting my wolf roam free without any check on his wildness. I have to keep my wolf leashed.

“This”—I gesture between us—“isn’t useful.”

Both of her eyebrows go up so high they disappear behind her bangs. “Interesting choice of words.”

I spend a lot of my time with Aunt Artemis; I know when a woman says something is interesting in that tone of voice, she means something completely different. I, however, have already dug this hole, and so I might as well stand in it.

“Fine,” I say, “it isn’t logical, then.”

“I see.” She cocks her head to the side and stares at me for a long drawn-out moment before standing to look me straight in the eye—or as close as she can get, considering there’s gotta be more than a foot height difference between us.

Whatever tough-chick attitude she’s going for, though, takes a hit when the knotted string that’s holding my spare jogging pants up on her unwinds and they start to slide down. Her cheeks turn pink, and she lets out a little squeak of surprised annoyance before she fists the gray material and does her best to mean mug me while keeping the joggers from slipping any farther.

“And you only have sex when it’s logical or useful?” she asks.

“Exactly,” I say, dragging my gaze up from her hand bunched up in all that material. Making myself do that is a feat much harder than I want to admit because every part of me is so in tune to her. “Sex is just a physical release. Nothing more. There’s no reason why logic shouldn’t be the determining factor.”

“And the whole sexy growl situation when you tell me we’re gonna seal the deal, but not with a hand kiss?” she asks as she reties the string.

I have never hated a bow more than at that moment. “A mistake.”

She mutters a huh as she lifts her eyebrows and a hmm as she shakes her head, and then hits me with a you-are-full-of-shit scoff.

“So you’re saying you don’t want to kiss me?” She plants her hands on her hips, straining the bow holding the string at her waist together. “You don’t want to touch me?” She struts forward until she’s almost in arm’s reach. “You don’t want to fuck me until we’re both too exhausted to move?”

My dick fucking aches, it’s so hard, and it takes nearly everything I have not to tell her yes. Oh, I’m definitely going to store that mental image away for later—but not now. Thinking about spinning her around and pulling her back so her ass is snug against me as I put that fucking bow out of its misery before sliding my hand in her waistband and slipping a finger or two or three between her thick thighs is not the way to go. I should tell her this isn’t a wise discussion. I should dunk my head into the icy water falling outside the cave entrance, werewolves hunting for us be damned. I should keep my focus on finishing the blue moon gauntlet.

Of course, I do none of those things because I am an asshole.

“I’ve never said that,” I say. “But for some of us, doing things just because we want to has consequences. You make bad decisions seem like good ideas.”

“What kind of bad decisions?” she asks, sounding exactly like someone who is the personification of temptation.

“The kind where I turn you around, yank those jogging pants of mine down from your waist, and then fuck you so hard and so good while you’re still standing up that your thighs will be Jell-O afterward.”

She bites down on her bottom lip, her eyelids fluttering shut for a second before she lets out a soft mmmm-hmmmm and looks back up at me with a satisfied smile. The air in the cave crackles with possibilities. I can barely breathe with how bad I want her right now, and every time I do inhale, I’m hit with the scent of her arousal and that honeysuckle that will forever make me think of her. My chest is tight, my dick is hard as the granite walls of this cave, and I am one hundred percent certain this is a bad decision I can’t wait to make.