I wake up without a single plan in mind, and it’s the best gift I can ask for.
Micah is asleep, exhausted from the night—well, nights—before. We’ve been in and out of bed for most of the last week, and I’m glad it only took a day or two to get over my embarrassment of everyone in the pack being hyper-aware of what’s going on. Apparently it’s par for the course with new mates, and even if I’m human, the grace period is no questions asked. We’ve tried to keep everything away from the camp, but there’s been a couple of very late evenings and early mornings in the tent when Micah or I couldn’t help ourselves.
Maybe I don’t have a wolf, but I can feel when hers rises, seeking the one it loves—looking for me. The first few times bordered on surreal, but now the sensation is a comfort, knowing there’s no way I can lose track of Micah. She isn’t fond of her phone, but after talking her into taking a few pictures of us together, the complaints have died down.
From my comfortable refuge in her arms, I trace her jaw with a fingertip, following the firm line down to her throat. The pulse there is slow with slumber, but Micah is so warm that we barely need blankets. I don’t want to accidentally wake her up, although my body is starting to get other ideas.
I’ve always thought sex was fun, but I’ve never felt anything like this drive before, something primal pulling at every part of me to touch and be touched. It’s skin hunger to the max, but no one but Micah can sate the urge. Sleeping wrapped up in one another helps, although it never takes long for my mind to wander.
Micah stirs, eyes fluttering, and I briefly wonder if thirsty thoughts alone are enough to get a reaction. A small smile rises to her lips before she murmurs my name, burying her face against my shoulder and relaxing again.
Okay, maybe not.
She smiles more often now, though. It seems easier for her than when we first met, a little less restrained. Micah stays unmatched for subtle expressions and gestures, but it’s nice to know when she’s happy. Her wolf is back under control too—back to the way it was before Andrew’s father made her snap.
Andrew is completely out of the picture. I didn’t quite believe it the first few days, but there hasn’t been a single alert on Connor’s scanner or anything on the news. He hasn’t called or come after me, either at the camp or the bar. Hour by hour, it’s easier to breathe, to think, and enjoy myself without worrying about his shadow around the corner.
I took Charlie out for dinner at his favorite place to thank him for the assist—and let him freak out about my disappearance over an excessive amount of cocktails. Mary was so relieved to hear I was okay that she immediately banished me on a two-week break, and it’s hard not to be grateful. I can’t imagine trying to make bachelorette cocktails with ninety percent of my brain focused on Micah. Chances are we’d end up fucking in the parking lot, and the last thing I need after all of this is an indecent exposure ticket.
Which makes this the first real vacation I’ve had since summers in college. There was never enough time or money, hustling from work to bed and back again. How could I even picture a future, facing down the relentless grind? Weekends were crushed between errands and overindulgence, leaving me exhausted before Monday even rolled around. I can’t blame the bar when I took the hours—I needed the hours—but God, it’s nice for my needs to be boiled down to the woman next to me, at least for the next couple of weeks.
“I was dreaming about you,” Micah whispers, eyes still closed.
Speak of the wolf. “So good you woke up?”
“It was nice. But nothing is better than the real thing,” she says, sitting up and carefully dislodging her arm from around my back.
Micah stretches slow enough for me to name every muscle in her arms and shoulders, but caring about the technical terms is impossible when she’s so damn gorgeous. Tousled with sleep, her pale hair looks like the softest thing in the world, tempting me to run my hands through it and chase every last tangle. Hazel eyes, warm as a piece of the sun, return my gaze with an intensity that always cuts me to the core.
She sees me, all of me, and wants without exception.
“I love you,” I say, by reflex. Of course it’s obvious, of course Micah knows, but looking at her, my heart has a direct line to my tongue. I could say it a thousand times and the words would never wear down, would never feel less true.
Micah leans down and kisses me, deep enough that I forget anything but relaxing under her mouth, soothed and sated in perfect harmony. “I love you too.”
“Before we—” Listen, she’s naked and I’m naked, and it’s early enough that no one in the pack can complain about the sound. Still—I had a thought. “Before we’re...occupied, I wanted to ask you something.”
She hums in assent, eyes never leaving mine.
“Would you be okay with meeting my parents?” Anxiety squeezes around my heart like a fist; I breathe past it. “I stayed away from them when I was with Andrew. Like deep down I was...ashamed. But my family means so much to me. They’re like my pack and—”
“Of course,” Micah answers, gently interrupting my nervous babble. “I don’t mind meeting yours, although I admit I hope you never meet mine.”
My chest hurts, but it’s a pang of sympathy. Whatever happened between Micah and her mother, the pain is buried deep in everything she does. “Okay. I’ll call my mom and ask about dinner.”
Mom pulls out every stop for guests, but this time I think her habit of making ten different dishes will come in handy. She’s sure to be ecstatic when Micah eats everything down to the last grain of rice. The tension around my heart unfurls—I’ll apologize to her and Dad for not keeping in touch, I’ll close the gap no matter how long it takes—and I draw Micah down on top of me, unable to help smiling and the laugh that slips from my lips.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, hooking one leg around mine. I don’t miss how the movement parts my knees wider.
“Nothing. I’m just happy.” Whispering the last word against Micah’s lips, I steal another kiss. “And this feels good.”
Objectively, I’m not surprised Micah’s a quick learner, but the way she unerringly finds my weak spots is a thrill I don’t expect will ever get old. Her mouth is a hot delight around the lobe of my ear, then the softest part of my neck, followed by the edge of teeth that always makes me gasp. I slip my nails down her back, just as slow, and feel the growl that vibrates through Micah’s throat.
She shifts lower, worshipping my breasts with lips and tongue. There’s no rush, nothing but sheer indulgence as Micah takes me into her mouth and holds me there, kissing and sucking at each nipple until they’re hard enough to ache. I’m tempted to let her stay that way, sinking into the heat and pleasure without a thought in the world but her mouth, except the throb between my thighs is getting more persistent by the second.
“Micah,” I gasp.
Golden eyes flare upward, molten with desire. “Tell me what you need.”
Her breath, hot against slick skin, burns away any hesitation. “You, inside me. Please.”
Maybe the begging was overkill, but the primal look I get in response convinces me otherwise. Her knees spread mine wider so she looms over me on all fours, drawing in a deep breath to capture my scent. Micah’s hand takes a possessive path down my stomach, fingers spreading over the soft curve of my skin, and coming back together to part the dark curls between my thighs, seeking the slickness hidden underneath. A pleased rumble leaves her throat as she explores the swollen folds of my pussy.
One finger sinks inside me with ease. I gasp, hips pushing forward to welcome the thrust, and the next sound that leaves my lips is muffled by Micah’s lips. The kiss is messy and quick, tempting me to nip at her mouth as a second finger turns that slow pressure into a satisfying stretch. I tighten around her, purposefully, and the way it makes her groan feels as good as the shock of delight through my body.
We find a rhythm—her hand and my hips, the slow grind of Micah’s palm against my clit, every thrust punctuated with another kiss or noise. I give up trying to match her mouth as the pace quickens, nuzzling against her jaw and running my tongue over the vivid ink of her tattoo, leaving the flowers there with a shine like dew. Every time she curls her fingers against that spot deep inside me, I hide a moan in the curve of her throat, even as my back arches to welcome her just a little deeper.
The angle of Micah’s wrist changes just enough to make me whimper, but I’m rewarded by her thumb centering on my clit, rolling careful circles around the sensitive hood. Hot tension coils in the pit of my stomach, and each time it winds tighter, another wave of pleasure carries me closer to the edge.
“Micah, don’t stop—” I plead, biting at her shoulder like it’ll make the words sink in. She growls again, deep and visceral. “I’m so—”
She doesn’t let up. Her fingers pump even faster, stealing the rest of my sentence as orgasm washes over me in a sudden, ecstatic rush. The only thing I can focus on is Micah above me, watching as I moan and twist underneath her, that bright gaze voicing the wolf’s demands: mate—mine. It’s enough to send another burst of ecstasy through my whole body, leaving her fingers desperately slick to the knuckles.
I lie back to catch my breath, bliss singing under my skin. My fingers wander through Micah’s hair, stroking and soothing, and taper back down to the tattoo emblazoned on the side of her neck. Even through half-lidded eyes, the flowers are vibrant, every line dark and elegant.
“I never asked you what this is,” I murmur, tracing my thumb down a narrow stem.
Micah’s smile is small but genuine. “It’s a sprig of wolfsbane.”
My fingers stall there, framing the poisonous flowers. “Wait, why? Does it...does the real plant hurt you?”
“No, silver’s our only tried and true weakness.” Micah’s hand slips over mine, catching me between her pulse and her palm. “And there were a lot of reasons. I think they’re beautiful, and the irony’s amusing. But I was also seventeen and determined to piss off my mother by any petty means possible. Even if that meant forcing myself not to heal for two hours while sweating it out in a shop chair.”
The smile hasn’t faded, so I keep the mood light. “Did it work?”
“Kind of. She told me if I was so determined to be poisonous, she’d treat me like it.”
“Um, ouch,” I mutter. “Talk about harsh.”
“It’s a barb with no sting.” Micah shifts onto her back, and I turn to keep her body against mine, legs still idly entwined. “I’m her only heir. She can’t cast me out any more than she can cut off her own head.”
Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean Micah shouldn’t be treated better. Now I definitely want to bring her to meet my parents, if only to give her a nice night spent with family. Dad’s sure to ask her a hundred questions about the biker look, but only out of nostalgia—he had to drop the wandering rebel life a long time ago. Mom would sense the same things I have, I think, and treat Micah right.
My eyes wander over her body, the faint sheen of exertion lingering in the hollow of Micah’s collarbone, the pale arrow of hair spreading down her stomach. I’m contemplating kissing a trail from point to point when my phone buzzes. Micah’s does shortly after, and she lets out a low rumble of distaste before picking it up. I kiss her on the lips and grab mine too, only half paying attention to the screen.
Hey, lovebirds. Hungry? It’s on us.
A blush spreads across my face before I can help it. Guess everyone else is up bright and early too. Thumb hovering over the reply tab, I glance at Micah, half expecting to be thoroughly distracted away from my phone, but she sighs and gives me a slightly flustered grin.
“I’m actually pretty hungry,” she admits.
Werewolf metabolism wins the day.
“Then let’s eat.” I tap back one sec to Alejandra and ditch the phone so I can get dressed. “Knowing you, I’ll need a lot of energy for the rest of the day.”
“Knowing me?” Desire glints in near-gold eyes. “I seem to recall a woman last night who wanted to find out how much she could take in one go.”
I clear my throat, defenseless. “Challenging yourself is important. That’s how you...learn and, uh, grow.”
Micah’s rasp of a laugh makes me shiver, and I promptly sit up to grab my clothes before focusing on breakfast becomes impossible. Thankfully no one in the pack will judge me for rolling out of the tent in a T-shirt, my last clean bra, and some leggings. Brushing my hair isn’t optional unless I want to spend the rest of the day at the mercy of ten thousand curly tangles, so I enjoy the view while slowly working them free.
Broad shoulders shrug as Micah pulls on her shirt, the stark white of new cotton, then reaches for her vest. The leather settles taut and smooth against her back, its circle of rugged patches enduring as always. I reach out to trace the top rocker, threads frayed together until they resemble a single piece, and Micah tilts her head to look back at me.
“See something you like?”
“Always.” Sitting up on my knees, I claim another kiss, palm flush against the howling wolf that guards her spine. “What’s a girl have to do to get one of these, by the way?”
“I think you skipped over the prospect step,” Micah says, “so the only thing you have to do is ask.”
Our phones buzz again in playful warning when she turns around and pulls me into her lap. The noise filters right out of my mind as Micah becomes my world, all-encompassing. She holds me like I’m the most precious thing she’s ever set eyes on.
The wild is exactly where I’m meant to be.
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