The Wolf Lord

by Ann Aguirre

  Thalia nodded. “There was no other choice. I would’ve been crushed if she hadn’t kept me safe, taught me all the skills I needed to survive my father’s court.”

  She made it sound onerous…and unbearably lonely, a truth reinforced by the deep blue of her eyes. Sometimes they looked purple, but now, wrapped in that white towel, they were like the sea just before dusk, open and empty, as she gazed inward, across an icy tundra of desolate years. There had likely been no friendships, no roughhousing like he’d gotten from packmates, no solace from roving the hills.

  He pictured her holed up in the library, endlessly reading. Given her prowess with the blades, he added to that mental image, placing her in Noxblade training from a young age, drilling alongside those who had to see her as better, stronger, and smarter, no matter what. If she fell, she had to get up twice as fast, if she took a wound, she had to pretend it didn’t hurt and examine the damage alone—while her mad father plotted to restore the glory of the old days, when the Eldritch ruled over the rest of the Numina.

  How did she come out whole from that special hell?

  It was beyond Raff not to reach for her, slowly, in case she wanted to be left alone. When she curled into him a second time, just as eagerly as when she was crying, his heart lurched in his chest, clenched and tightened. She felt so delicate and small, fragile compared to an Animari lover, but he already knew she was stronger than she seemed. Her heart raced against his, more proof that his touch did things to her, and her scent warmed, ripened, sheer chemical enticement.

  “You like it when I touch you.”

  It wasn’t a question, only an observation, and not even a surprising one. Raff was good at giving pleasure, but it rarely meant anything, and close skinship had never filled him with such euphoria before. She let him approach when no others were allowed the same privilege. Only he saw her softness and her faltering moments, and it was a kind of compliment that he couldn’t have envisioned receiving, before.

  “Why state the obvious?” she muttered.

  “Don’t sulk, I like it too. Your hair especially. Shall I fix it for you? Summoning your dresser would ruin the mood.”

  Before she could protest, he got a comb from her night table and unwrapped the towel. Her hair spilled out, liquid silver in the firelight, so light and fine that it practically floated with static, half-damp and wild. With a little primitive thrill, he decided he would most likely kill anyone else who saw her like this.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Soothing you.” He didn’t say anything else about her lack of a gift. This was his way of comforting her and affirming their closeness. “I’ll be careful.”

  Easier said than done, as there were lots of knots and snarls from their time in the wild, but she relaxed beneath his touch, eyes dropping half-closed as he worked on the tangles. He savored these moments with an intensity that skated so far past liking that the feeling must end somewhere in the hills of adoration. Eventually, the comb slid through her hair smoothly. Raff suppressed a quiver of a disappointment that he had no more reason to touch her.

  “Is grooming normally part of the mate relationship in your pack?” she asked softly, as his hands fell away from her hair.

  An interesting question, not one he’d considered before at length. “We don’t have a manual for such things. Each couple decides privately what works and suits them best.”

  “Maybe it’s because of our long lifespans, but romantic pairings aren’t like this among my people,” she said.

  “No?” That was an invitation to elaborate.

  Thankfully, she took it. “Even sex and love are a game with power at stake. The one who cares more, gives more, loses more. Thus we strive not to reveal the true level of our desire or the real tenor of our yearning.”

  “If you don’t ask for anything, you can never be denied.” That was one of the main reasons he’d never shown any sign how much it would mean to get his father’s, that crazy old wolf, approval for one of his own ideas, not one that came from Korin.

  “Precisely. And if you make your lover beg, you win again.”

  “Sounds terrible,” Raff said. “I hope you don’t intend to play those games with me.”

  “There’s no point. I threw out the scorecard some time ago, even if I was initially inclined in that direction.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I can’t measure you, and I don’t want to.” There was no mistaking her honesty, evident in her soft voice and the clarity of her eyes, raised slowly to meet his.

  “Well, my good wife, you’ll never need to plead with me for anything, except maybe an orgasm. I do like the pretty way you gasp and quiver when I’m holding you at the edge.”

  She raised a pale hand to his face, her fingers light and cool on his cheeks, his brows, but the touch set him alight, no matter its delicacy. “Will you take me to bed now, husband? I’m not begging, mind. Only asking.”

  23.

  Thalia didn’t wait long for Raff’s answer. He was a man of action, as she’d already surmised, and he swept her into his arms, despite the bandage from where the bullet had recently been removed. She held on as he carried her to the bed. Compared to the bedroll they’d shared in Titus’s cabin, the soft linens seemed positively decadent. Her towel dropped when she slid under the covers, or more accurate to say she didn’t bother with it.

  “Now then, we’re in bed,” Raff said. “What more did you have in mind? A cozy, comforting experience or something sweaty and seductive?”

  “Can’t I have both? The latter, then the former seems ideal.”

  “So you’d prefer a solid fucking with snuggles after? I like to be clear.”

  Thalia smiled, finding the slope of his shoulder in the flickering firelight. His skin was always so warm, as if his body had a core of molten lava. “If you’re up to it. I don’t want to ask for more than you can readily provide.”

  He scoffed. “Are you suggesting that these paltry injuries could incapacitate me?”

  “More that I don’t want you to hurt because of me. Not even a little.”

  His hard face softened into the sweetest smile she had ever seen, and it did funny things to her heart. “Then I’d say that if that’s true, you should do the work this time.”

  Heat pooled low at the idea. “You’re giving yourself to me? For whatever I want.”

  “Without hesitation. Do be gentle, though. As you noted, I’m still recovering.”

  She could have said so many things, but the time for talking was done. Even through the sheet, she glimpsed his hardening cock; he was halfway there at the simple idea of giving himself to her. Time to surprise him.

  Currently the sheet covered half of Raff’s chest and his lower body; Thalia left the pale fabric in place and started with a soft kiss behind his ear. He was about to learn why her people were said to possess legendary patience. A soft sound slipped out of him as he angled his head to give her better access, but she stayed right there for long moments, behind his ear—kissing, licking, and nuzzling—and when she finally shifted, it was to toy with his earlobe with gentle teeth.

  Raff was already squirming, and she’d barely gotten started. He reached for her, but only to stroke her head in silent encouragement. “Who knew that would feel so good?” he whispered.

  Smiling, she went for his throat next, but delicate and gentle, sucking lightly so that he arched his neck, and she watched his cock come to full bloom beneath the sheet. Thalia kissed him all over his face, pressing worshipful kisses to his brow, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, until his breath grew labored with the restraint he was exerting.

  “Mouth, next?” she teased.

  He lifted his bearded chin enough for an affirmative, letting her come the rest of the way to take his lips. She loved how his beard grazed her cheeks and jaw, another layer of sensation to contrast with the heat of his mouth. At first, she kept the contact chaste and fleeting, leaving him with lips parted and likely aching for a deeper taste.
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  After countless tantalizing moments, she rewarded him with a long kiss, her lips sealing over his, and she gloried in how quickly he opened his mouth and offered his tongue. She swept hers in seductive strokes, delving, thrusting, until they were both gasping and breathless, and his big body trembled against her.

  When she pulled away at last, his mouth gleamed wet and a bit red, incredibly hot because she’d done that to him. “How do you feel? No pain?”

  “My cock’s aching,” he confessed. “But I can wait for you to get there. I’m enjoying all the pleasures of your journey.”

  “Mm. That’s good.” She kissed a path across his shoulders and then downward, nuzzling her cheek against his chest.

  So different from an Eldritch, but she liked the texture of the hair. He seemed to enjoy it when she used her hands on him, caressing his chest, then testing the density of his muscles with her nails. At that, he arched and groaned, and a tiny portion of the sheet draped over the tip of his cock went translucent.

  He’s leaking, he wants me so badly.

  Waiting must be excruciating in that case, but he was still passive and quiet, letting her set the pace. Knowing that made her want to rip the sheet away and accelerate her foreplay. Thalia quelled that impulse. Drawing out his pleasure would yield a stunning orgasm, and she wanted to blow his brains out. Figuratively. That was a conscious desire; since he’d made no secret of having taken lots of lovers, she needed to be memorable, to etch herself into his body and his desires, so that whenever he wanted to get off, he remembered her lips, her hands, her face. Perhaps this wasn’t so much pleasure as possession, but she couldn’t stop. Not until he came, helplessly groaning her name.

  His small, brown nipples were tight. She put her mouth near one, exhaling a slow, hot breath, and his hands came to her head, like he wanted to exert pressure. Somehow he managed not to, only stroking her hair. Thalia sucked his nipple into her mouth at first softly, but she gauged his reaction and sucked harder, using her teeth until he cried out.

  Raff liked it rough, with slices of sharpness interspersed with the soft. She loved his nipples with her fingers, her mouth, and his breath went wild, ragged and harsh.

  Onward.

  He moaned when she peeled the sheet back to reveal his fluttering stomach. His abs were already tight, rippling with anticipation of her touch. The sight of her pale hair spread across his brown skin should be exciting, so she lowered her head and kissed his belly, making no effort to be tidy about it. Sex should be messy and unrestrained.

  Maybe he expected her to step up the pace, or hoped, but she kept to her measured exploration, despite the flush kindling all over her body, and the heat making it hard for her to think. Now, she acted on instinct, sinking her teeth into his lower belly, nuzzling at his hipbone and licking the length of his thigh. Raff raised his leg, offering himself to her with wounded, desperate eyes.

  “I could do so many interesting things,” she whispered. Thalia hardly recognized her own voice, so husky and deep. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Many. But most of all, just don’t stop. I might die.”

  “I won’t,” she promised, and flung the sheet away.

  His cock stood up, dark and veiny, slick with precome. Her plans evaporated in the white-hot lust that drove her to straddle him, work her aching pussy against that tantalizing shaft. Oh yes. Fucking perfect. She moved her hips, grinding, and her entire body shivered at the pleasure of those long, luxurious strokes. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized that she was so close to coming, and how was that possible, just from teasing him?

  “That’s it,” he urged. “Use me.”

  She did.

  In quick lunges, Thalia chased the feeling, hot and melting, tightening her stomach, sharper when she tightened her thighs. This wasn’t supposed to be about me. But she couldn’t stop herself, and she lost herself in his body, humping so wildly that her movements jolted little sounds from him, moans and groans and words of praise.

  Her orgasm hit hard, and her whole body locked as the sensations washed over her, fierce at first, then in slowly quieting waves.

  The sweetest of wolves caught her when she fell.

  Raff would be lying if he said he wasn’t frustrated, but it was buried beneath layers of satisfaction. Thalia started out intent on seducing him and ended up like that. No way he didn’t take it as the highest of compliments, so he held her against him and stroked her back, idly sifting through her hair with careful fingertips. She stretched in his arms, and he settled her even closer, so that he could revel in her slowing heartbeat.

  An asshole might try to claim that bodily harm would result from getting all stirred up and being left unsatisfied, but his penis was like a gun. It would still fire just fine next time, even if he left a bullet in the chamber, so to speak. His cock settled to half-mast while she regained her senses in his arms. As she came down, she still shivered beneath his lightest touch, making it tough to get his own head together.

  “You good?” he asked, maybe a skosh smug, already knowing the answer.

  “That…was not part of the plan.”

  Raff swallowed a smile. “It’s important to be flexible.”

  Her eyes snapped open, and the light dimmed, like a shade being drawn. “Is that why it was so easy for you to stop courting Magda?”

  Hell.

  “I was never doing that,” he said.

  “Everyone commented on how you chased her in Ash Valley.” That tone dared him to deny it, so Raff didn’t even try.

  Rather, he attempted to explain. “It’s more that I was trying to get her to…choose me. Because Mags has high standards, and if she did, that’d mean I was worthy.”

  “Oh. And you don’t need that validation now?”

  “Your judgment is impeccable, princess. I have all the approval could ever need.” He hugged her for good measure.

  She smiled up at him, pure fucking sunshine. “Then…why don’t we sleep for a while?” She did look done, lashes already drifting shut, and she lay like cooked noodles in his arms.

  Raff quashed minor disappointment and said, “I was about to suggest that.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Before he could ask what for, she winked out like a light, flattering if slightly disappointing. He firmly closed his mind to all the sex stuff that wouldn’t be happening and tried to go to sleep himself. Briefly, he entertained the notion of sneaking to the bathroom and cranking one out, but if she woke up, she might read it as a rejection, instead of a practical move that held no secret subtext.

  Better not risk it.

  Still, it took him a long time to drift off, not least because she felt amazing, naked in his arms, and he had the bright, hot memory of her mouth and hands roving his skin. Stop, enough of that. Fuck, this is mission impossible.

  At some point, he must have drifted into a horny, uncomfortable doze because that was when the scorching dream started. Like most dreams, there was no introduction, just suddenly, Thalia’s hot mouth was wrapped around his cock, and she was sucking him like she’d starve without his taste. His hips moved—no reason not to savor the fantasy—fucking upward, so that she nearly choked.

  I can be selfish in my dreams.

  “Deeper,” he mumbled. “Suck harder.”

  She responded instantly, increasing the suction, and it felt so good that his balls tingled. There was no reason to hold back, nobody to impress with his control, so Raff gave himself fully to the pleasure, pushing his cock past her soft lips. Her mouth was wet and hot, her tongue delicate against his sensitive skin, and she was careful with her teeth, grazing now and then, but not enough to hurt.

  Fuck, that’s good.

  He didn’t realize he’d said it aloud until her laugh vibrated against his cock. Knotting his hands in her long hair, he pushed her head against him, and she renewed the suction, her mouth moving up and down with such alacrity that if he hadn’t been dreaming, he’d need to worry about her comfort, like if h
er neck and shoulders were tired or if this was a bad angle. This way, he focused only on the feeling and Raff brought his knees up. In this fantasy, there were no limitations. He could have whatever he desired.

  It didn’t even surprise him when she shifted down, licking his balls with her hot mouth. Her lips and tongue went everywhere, even places he’d never dare ask for if he was awake. Raff squirmed against the delicious torment and he only stopped her when his cock spurted precome.

  “I’m almost there. Let me finish in your mouth.”

  “With pleasure,” she purred.

  What a dream.

  This was probably the only time the Eldritch queen would be so obedient to his every whim. Savoring the moment, he still couldn’t restrain a groan when she sucked his cock into her soft mouth. While he loved fucking, there was an extra decadence to laying back like a lazy bastard and getting serviced until he came.

  Best. Dream. Ever.

  Normally, he’d wake up before the best part because his unconscious mind was an asshole, but it showed no signs of interfering this time. Thalia was still everything and everywhere, her scent, her lips, her tongue. Raff went after his delayed satisfaction with complete focus, working in and out of her mouth until he couldn’t hold it. His strokes went short and quick, tension in his lower back, and then he went, spurting between her sweet lips in delicious release. In that weird moment between sleeping and waking, he had the awful surety that he’d come in bed, a wet dream the like of which he used to have as a pup, and shit, it would be so embarrassing—

  Then his eyes opened, and he registered a few things. Thalia, between his legs, softly sucking. The covers were just gone, just as they were in the dream, tumbled beside the bed, and the room was cool. Thalia, licking his cock clean, his come on her lips. He blinked in utter confusion.

  Not…a dream?

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I woke up feeling peckish.”

  It took him a minute to find his voice. “Ah, no. I don’t. Mind. I gave you permission to do whatever you want, and that includes sucking me off in my sleep.”