Drew buried his face into the crook of her neck and raked his teeth over his mate’s mark. When his fangs pricked her skin, Sabine leaned into his mouth, reveling in his attentions. The heat from his mouth blazed through her, heating blood and bone. She felt the hot brew race through her veins, seep through the slight abrasion, and bead on her skin like tiny moist gems. Drew lapped up her lifeblood and growled his approval.
She responded with a feral feminine cry, enticing him, releasing her mating lure, which called to him to impregnate her.
He started to move with a lithe sensuous rhythm, spearing into her, making love to her with a purposefulness he hadn’t had before. Sabine met him thrust for thrust. Lifting her, he cupped her butt, his fingers leaving indentations in her flesh.
The steely lance eased over her nerve endings, hyperaware of every bulging vein in the rigid shaft embedded in her, his weighty balls resting on her fleshy ass. Fluids trickling from her, she writhed and flexed her hips.
Drew raised his head, face damp with sweat, his gaze fixed on hers. “I want to be looking in your eyes when I plant my seed in you. I need to see the change in you at the very moment we create this new life.” Tonight they’d conceive their longed-for cub, created in love.
Sabine lowered her bent knees to the side, and her actions opened her up for him a little more. Drew grunted, howled, and spewed a geyser of life-creating fluids over her cervix.
Sabine felt it, the creation blossoming in her, and the subtly telling change in her essence. A longed-for desire realized, giddy joyousness swamped her. Hot tears trickled from her eyes and dampened the hair at her temples.
A wondrous smile spread across Drew’s face, the tenderness on it set everything in its place and all was well in her in this sublime moment.
Epilogue
The squat cabin nestled into the hillside, its walls carved with whimsical images of gnomes, sprites, trolls, and werekin so lifelike they seemed to be moving. Plate-sized red-capped toadstools and wildflowers with butterflies dancing between the blossoms grew on the grass-covered roof. Sabine smiled, delighted. For a moment, she fell into the fantasy that it was a fairy’s abode. Until a generator’s raucous roar and the sight of the satellite dish shattered her daydream.
She was about to do the dreaded deed and disappoint her father, but she felt no apprehension or sense of failure. With her fingers held loosely by Drew, she walked forward confidently.
Her father stepped through the door on the minuscule front porch.
Dressed!
He had on clothes. Sabine couldn’t believe it. She gawked at him. Speechless, she took in the long-sleeved plaid shirt, jeans and rugged boots. His unkempt silver hair and belly button-length beard had been barbered to an inch off his skin. Balthazar looked well-groomed, and very human.
His eyes met hers challengingly. The silver blue orbs glowed with health and vitality, if you could look past the burning fury in them.
Bristling, Balthazar snarled, “You should gape at me. Look what she’s reduced me to. Me—an alpha male! Plucked almost bald and trussed up in clothes, like a fowl ready for the spit.” He pinned Drew with an accusing, damning glare. “Is that any way to treat the man whose daughter you’re mated with? I gave you a gift beyond price and this is the way you repay me?” The aggravation in his voice rang out through the forest.
Drew scratched his chin as if the question bemused him, but Sabine saw his lips twitch and the amused gleam in his eyes. “What does my indebtedness have to do with you wearing clothes?”
Balthazar pulled himself up to his full height, his body rigid with righteous indignation. “I was sent up here to reside with a harridan to indoctrinate me to the new customs you’ve adopted.” Disgust was rife in his intonation. “She said she won’t have me walking around in my skin. Are we werekin or not? Nudity is as natural to us as breathing.”
A dismissive snort preceded Hanni’s exit from the cottage. “Save your breath, old man. You’re not planting your naked butt on my sofa, and that’s that.” She shoved a basket into his hand. “Go get me some carrots and turnips from the vegetable garden. I want to get the stew on before the poker tournament starts on the tube, so get a move on.”
She held up a warning finger when Balthazar opened his mouth to protest. “If you want to eat, you help. Now shoo, time’s wasting.”
Balthazar dragged in a deep breath, leaning down until his roman nose almost touched Hanni’s. His face contorted into an arrogant disdainful grimace, hers in a pugnacious scowl.
Sabine had seen the same expression before. Her father was going to deliver a lecture, and from experience, she knew Hanni’s ears would ring for hours to come. To her surprise, he froze, and his head swiveled in her direction. The fury in his eyes faded, replaced by a joyful hopefulness.
“You carry a cub?” Her father’s gruff whisper was a blessing filled with his approval. He abandoned his spat with Hanni and glided over to Sabine, his arms open wide.
His embrace warm and nurturing, he sniffed her. “You’ve kept your promise. I can die knowing we will live on.”
“That happy event might be coming sooner than you think,” Hanni murmured, as she folded her arms over her breasts.
“Yes, Balthazar, but this very welcome addition to our family won’t necessarily carry the Silverwolf name,” Sabine stated boldly, waiting for her father to bluster and protest, ranting how imperative it was for her to do her duty by her pack and give birth to the next generation of Silverwolves.
Drew’s hand tightened on her trembling fingers, his silent support bolstering her courage.
Balthazar brows lifted, a surprised query in the small movement. “Why would he?” He seemed surprised by her statement.
“You said I was to ensure the continuity of the Silverwolves.” Dubious, and confused by his reaction, Sabine pulled back, looking up to read his expression. He didn’t seem at all put out.
Her father shook his head, looking down at her fondly. “Ahh, my Sabine, so literal. We weren’t always Silverwolves, you know. Eons ago, we were Shadowdancers. A she-wolf from that pack mated with a Silverwolf, and her abilities took root in that pack and flourished in her adopted pack though her descendants. The Shadowdancer pack was lost to us, but their talents live on in us.” Balthazar sighed, regret and a plea clouded his expression. “I should have been clearer. I’ve weighed you down by asking you to do what I failed to do. My mistakes almost put an end to us. I have been a prideful old fool, haven’t I?”
“You’ll get no argument about that from me,” Hanni interjected with gleeful sarcasm.
Balthazar looked down his nose at Hanni. He dismissed her with a sniff and turned to face Drew with a mocking gleam in his eyes.
“Who knows, in time perhaps the Lunedares will have the qualities the Silverwolves now possess.” Seemingly satisfied with the prospect, Balthazar beamed down at her.
Drew extricated Sabine from her father’s loose embrace. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, honey, you’re off the hook.”
“But I want my pack name to live on, not lost in the annals of time, and not a fading memory like the Shadowdancers,” she complained.
“Maybe we won’t be a myth.” Ala’s soft voice cut off her complaints. Her sister stepped out to the tree line followed by Tija, Dex and, Jordan, the weres she and Tija were paired with.
An enigmatic smile curved her lips, but the mystery was solved by scent she exuded. She carried a cub.
Ala grinned shyly at Sabine. “Tija and I wanted a cub. Dex volunteered to father a cub for us. He isn’t an alpha and he’ll never take a mate in the traditional sense. We will be a family, the four of us.”
“I am blessed with obedient daughters. Well two out of three anyway.” Balthazar laughed and gathered Ala in her arms. “I am the luckiest of weres, my bloodline will live on.”
“No, he is not.” Drew pulled Sabine back against his torso. “I am,” he whispered against her hair. “When I think how we could have missed meeting each o
ther if one thing in that string of circumstances was out of line, I shudder. With you in my life, I’m no longer driven by a restlessness I could never ease. Instead I have a love that fills me, makes me complete. Am I not the luckiest were?” Drew rested his wide palm over her belly and splayed his fingers in a possessive hold.
A deep contentment settled over Sabine, and she placed her hand over Drew’s. “Yes, you are.” But then, so was she.
*THE END*
About The Author
Renee Michaels has always read voraciously. A history buff, she has a deep interest in the paranormal, and everything chocolate.
A few years ago, she put pen to paper and the results were her first novel, an erotic fantasy. A Coffee Time Romance review of her second release said, “Ms. Michaels wrote the perfect short story”. Encouraged she continues to writes in several genres, and has several stories in the works.
Stop by her web site at www.reneemichaels.net
Other books by Renee
Blood and Sex
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
Her Wanted Wolf Page 38
