Howl (Lost Moon: Unravelling Monsters Universe #2)

Chapter 10

10

brONTE

T he room is dark but the birds are beginning to sing when I wake on top of West, his heartbeat slow and steady under my ear. His cock is still inside me, flaccid but thick enough for me to feel its presence, and I’m a fool for never before realising how deliciously erotic it would be to sleep this way.

It’s because of the man the cock is connected to.

It’s true. In the past I never dared to fall asleep while knotted. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it; being knotted is vulnerable enough as it is.

It’s so different with West. I already trust him with my life. It goes beyond the declarations he’s given me; there’s a soul-deep connection between us, and our wolves know it.

I lift my head, watching him, his handsome face completely relaxed in sleep. He’s a beautiful man; strong jaw, full lips, perfect cheekbones. There’s the slightest bump on the bridge of his nose from a past injury — probably a fight — and his dark lashes are so long I’d dare to call them pretty. He looks so peaceful like this.

His brows furrow as I reluctantly move, his cock slipping free with what feels like a gush of fluid. There’s a mess between our bodies now, but the whole bed is messy, the smell of sex thick in the air. I love it, my wolf loves it, and I’ve never felt so satisfied in my life.

“Just using the bathroom, you sleep,” I whisper to him as he cracks open an eye, kissing his cheek slowly, his stubble already rasping my lips. He smells so good, sweetness and musk and a hint of spice all at once, and it’s near-painful to pull away. I want to stay here forever, my nose pressed to his skin, breathing in everything that is him.

The air is cool as I dash to the bathroom, the constant leak of his semen strangely satisfying. “Give me your babies,” I’d whispered in his ear during our last round, meaning every word, quickly discovering that I’m just as invested in being bred as he is in breeding me.

I let out a laugh when I spot myself in the mirror as I wash my hands. Not only is my hair an absolute mess, but there’s a hickey on the underside of my right breast; a darker patch against my skin in this muted light. I’d momentarily forgotten he’d done that. He’s been so good, so careful not to bite me before I’m ready, and his attentiveness at all times is something I’ve never truly had before.

I find myself oscillating between states of absolute comfort and giddiness when I’m with him. It’s so different from anything I’ve ever experienced in the past. The way he watches me makes me swoon, and I may not like being barked at, but goddess, everything else about his alpha nature turns me on.

He enters the bathroom as I’m leaving it, ducking through the door, bending to kiss me briefly, squeezing my ass for good measure. It’s all very domestic, and I’m happy . There’s pixies to find and the issue of the stone, the questions about our future hanging over our heads, but as I wait for him on our bed all I can think is that I don’t care about any of that.

I care about West.

His cock is already hard when he returns, his knot looking deliciously swollen. I grin, spreading my legs wide in invitation, laughing with pure joy as he leaps upon me.

We don’t fall asleep again until well after sunrise.

The call comes as we’re eating ‘breakfast’ at one in the afternoon while wearing nothing but our fluffy bathrobes. We’d started dressing in proper clothing earlier in the day and quickly gave up on the idea. I’d ended up bent over the chair in the bedroom instead, my fresh underwear shoved roughly aside and West fucking into me, alternating between hard and fast and agonisingly slow, teasing me at points by only leaving the tip of his cock sitting inside while he ran his hands over my back and ass and told me I was the best little mate for taking his cock so well.

No man has ever dared to call me little before, but goddess, I will let this man call me anything so long as he uses that absolute weapon of a cock on me.

“Anita has a lead,” he announces now, snapping his mobile device closed.

“I know. I heard.” I hadn’t understood the references to specific locations, only that she’d said three pixies had been spotted, there was talk of an item of value , and she’d finished the conversation with, “I assume you’ll be heading back to the West Coast as planned.”

Nerves twist in my gut. I’ve enjoyed being in our little sex-filled bubble, and I wish things could stay this way for longer. I’m not ready for the real world.

“We still have the flight scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“Are we going back to your home, then? You think we’re better placed there?”

“We’ll go back to the original pack territory first. And I do.” He reaches for another piece of fruit, taking a bite, his eyes bright amber as a sunbeam hits his face. “It’s time we involved the pack, anyway.”

I nod, forcing myself to swallow my latest bite, the food turning to lead in my stomach.

I’ve travelled by air before, but never like this. The private plane is even more opulent than the hotel suite — all white leather and polished wood — and the small crew are more attentive than any other staff I’ve ever met in either realm. “It’s just a charter,” West says, guiding me down the wide centre aisle with a hand on the small of my back, “but owning one outright is in my five year plan.”

He seems to know what I’m thinking as we settle into our seats opposite each other, a low table between us. “It’s not quite the same as riding a dragon, is it?” he asks quietly, his voice low enough that the human flight attendant — currently preparing our drinks from a well-stocked liquor cart — doesn’t hear.

I shake my head, matching his volume. “ Very different. Laughably so. Though I would argue that portal magic still reigns supreme.”

He tilts his head slightly in acknowledgement. “When it works, sure.”

I’d explained to him how my portal magic functions over dinner last night; that I need to have stood in a location first before being able to accurately portal back to it. He’d made a comment about how, unfortunately , we’ll still have to keep up appearances by travelling the human way most of the time, given the nature of this realm, and it had been a good reminder of the fact that our lives are very different, and we’re not going to be able to easily merge them.

I’m no fool. If it’s a competition — a battle over who gets their way — I can already see that I’m losing. West talks about the future as if I’m in it here , in this realm. To add insult to injury, both the visions I had last night were based in this realm — I can feel it in my bones that it’s true.

If it’s a competition then I’m on the back foot — but it’s not . I don’t feel like I’m battling West for dominance here. I’m enjoying myself in this realm. There’s no guards, no castle walls, no expectations. No one is watching me, at least not in the way that so many watch me at home, waiting for me to slip up, silently keeping tally in their heads of all my mistakes and all the ways I could be better. The constant comparisons to my grandmother. The weight that comes with knowing I will take her place one day.

The reality is that my life has been in limbo for a long time, and will continue to be for decades more. My grandmother still has another forty years in her, give or take, and I know she won’t give up her position a single minute earlier than she needs to. In all that time I’ll simply continue to exist as the heir, waiting, stuck.

I’m not wishing for her death, in fact, I’d love for her to continue on living forever. Yes, she’s not a pleasant person. Her tongue is sharp and she rules with an iron fist, but she is a good leader. The House and our territories have been stable under her rule. Her magic is unrivalled. I feel like a cheap imitation compared to her.

I don’t even want to lead House Maheras.

It’s not a new thought. In fact, I’ve thought it so often that what follows is automatic; stuff it back down, tell myself that I do , that I will , that it’s what I was born to do.

I want to live up to the expectations people have set for me. I want to be good at what I do, want to be the wolf my grandmother sees, want the praise and the honour. I like feeling special. I like being in the inner circle, being trained to perform secret spells, being privy to highly classified information.

I like all those aspects, but I’m lying to myself if I don’t acknowledge that the castle walls have often felt like a prison, that I’ve felt more free here in this realm than I ever have in my life before.

What would happen if I stepped away from it all? I’d be an even greater disappointment than my mother, there’s no doubt about that.

I don’t know who I am if I’m not Bronte Maheras, the heir , and I’m scared that in wanting what I want — babies, a family with West — I’m giving in. He’d joked about werewolf matriarchy the other day, but there’s no matriarchy here in this realm. Alphas rule his world, and he is one.

It’s too late now.

I’ve already taken his knot, repeatedly. I’m almost certainly going to be pregnant. Without any contraception or spell in place, his knot will have done exactly what it was biologically made to do; trigger ovulation, hold all that semen in place for an extended period. Wolves are known for our fertility — that is the same for both weres and shifters — and it’s almost a given that it’s worked.

Besides, my visions are a pretty clear indication of what’s to come.

“Ma’am?”

I jump, jolted out of my thoughts. There’s a full glass of wine on the table in front of me, and the air hostess standing beside my chair flashes me a tight smile. “Sorry to disturb you. Please fasten your seatbelt for takeoff, as per federal aviation guidelines.”

“Oh! Sure!” I fumble for the belt, clipping the two pieces together, and all the while I can feel West watching me. I push my hair out back from my face as I reach for my wine, and finally meet his gaze. He’s looking at me as if I’m an object he’s studying — like I’m some sort of curiosity he’s trying to decipher. I quirk my brow at him in question as the plane begins to move, a strange rolling feeling beneath us.

“For a moment I thought you were having another episode ,” he says, his brown eyes flicking somewhere behind me briefly. I turn just enough to see the air hostess seated on a pull-down chair at the front of the cabin.

I shake my head as I turn back to him. “No. Just lost in thought.”

“I realised.” He takes a sip of his whiskey, staring at me for a moment longer, before turning his attention to the view outside the window.

The plane is picking up speed, driving along the runway, and it feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before as it pulls upwards, taking flight. The noise of it is almost painful. West continues to stare out the window and so do I, drinking my wine and feeling overly aware of him, wondering what he’s thinking, if the reality of what’s happened between us is sinking in for him, too. It was so easy to beg him to knot me when coming off the strange high of those visions combined with the violence of the night. Now I’m sitting here, questioning all of my life choices, wondering if I can even trust myself to know what I want, asking myself what have I done?

A small bell-sound chimes, and West glances upwards. I follow his gaze, noticing for the first time the symbols above us. “Seatbelt light is off,” he says. “It means we’re free to unbuckle and move around the cabin.”

I appreciate the explanation. There’s many things I don’t know about this world — little details like this — and I know I’d be a lot more lost without the guidance. Cultural capital is the term my grandmother has always used when discussing those weres who’ve come back from the Second and been utterly confused by the way we do things. “They lack the cultural capital; they barely know how to be werewolves. They’re practically human, the poor, useless creatures.”

Now I’m the one without the cultural capital. Watching human-produced media has only gotten me so far, and I’m beginning to realise there’s a lot that the movies never showed.

“You said this flight takes six hours.”

West nods. “A little over six.” He glances behind me again, his tone hardening as he addresses the flight attendant. “You can leave us now. We don’t need food. We’ll let you know when you’re required. I don’t want anyone disturbing us here in the cabin unless the plane is on fire.”

I turn my head to see her leaving silently, the door closing behind her with a heavy click . When I turn back there’s no doubting the look in West’s eyes or the long, thick shape of his erection in his pants, and it doesn’t matter that he’s already knotted me four times overnight; my clit is suddenly awake, with an aching life of her own, and my nipples prick beneath the bra I’m wearing.

“Surely not?” I ask, unable to hide the smile pulling at my lips. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, as silly as that is. Five hours ago he was balls-deep in me, growling into my ear that I’m “ such a good little cumslut” for him as the warmth of said cum flooded me, knot stuffing me full, and yet now I’m blushing and giddy with excitement.

“There’s six hours left, as you pointed out. I can think of a few ways to kill the time.”

So can I. My heart is racing as I look around the cabin again. “What if they come in?”

“They won’t. Besides, we won’t be here.” He rises, holding out his hand for me. “I don’t usually reserve such a large plane,” he explains as he pulls me to my feet. “It’s by pure coincidence that the usual model was not available and I had to take the more expensive option. I was pissed at the time; now I’m considering it lucky.”

I hadn’t paid attention to the door at the back of the cabin or the size of the plane, but West leads me past the empty seats and pushes open the cream-coloured door at the back to reveal a dimly-lit space, filled with a double bed in front of a partition. “The bathroom is behind there,” he murmurs in my ear. “If you’d prefer to rest just tell me no , but all I can think about is fucking you again.”

“I’m surprised you have anything left in your balls.”

He laughs loudly, picking me up. I let out a squeal as he tosses me onto the bed, the heavy door swinging shut behind him. “Sounds like a challenge. I’m very happy to prove that I do , Bronte.”

“I can tell.”

Under the universal glamour he’s still a large man, still muscular, all washboard abs and meaty thighs. I’ve seen the way human women look at him. I don’t know if he even realises how attractive he is.

Scratch that, he definitely knows how good he looks — it’s obvious from the way his eyes stay trained on me as he takes off his watch, unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his shirt. “There’s a bird on Lykia that acts like you,” I say as his pants come off. “Puts on a show for his mate.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m simply getting undressed.”

“Mmhm, sure. You keep telling yourself that.”

His erection bobs in the air as he pushes his underwear down. I’ve seen him naked with the glamour on before, but never touched him, and I scoot forward on the bed to take a closer look. “May I?” I ask, sitting directly in front of him.

He gives a small nod, standing still as I wrap my hand around his cock, the head of it already partially exposed. I pull back his foreskin further, until it’s tucked fully back under the ridge of his glans. I’ve never been this close to a penis without a knot before, but I don’t dare voice that comment out loud. I get the feeling that it wouldn’t go down well — in fact, I’m almost certain he’s waiting for me to say something, to do something, something that would indicate that I’m disappointed or less interested. I’m not. He’s my mate regardless of the glamour. Yes, he’s not quite as long or thick in this form, and it feels different to run my hands down to the base of a knotless shaft, but he’s still very well-endowed. I have no doubt that he’d give any human man a run for their money. Besides, I have the corresponding human vagina right now. A knot would probably hurt like a bitch.

West grunts in surprise when I lower my head, pressing my lips to the tip of his cock. I lick at the precum that beads at his slit, humming with pleasure because he tastes exactly as he should. I love the feel of him under my tongue — the smooth head, the rough patch on the underside that is still so sensitive in this form, as I discover by the way he lets out a hiss of pleasure as I press the tip of my tongue into him there. When I take him deep into my mouth, breathing through my nose as I relax my throat and press on, I discover that the lack of a knot can be beneficial in this way. I’d never normally get so far that my nose brushes the hair on his groin. I can still smell myself on him despite the shower he took this morning, and it brings me immense pleasure to know I’ve marked him so.

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” he says as I deep throat him again. I laugh around his cock and give his balls a gentle squeeze, pulling back enough that I can suck hard on the head. “ Fuck. ” I can feel the thrum of blood under my lips as his cock strains in my mouth, and he lets out another string of curses. “I’m going to unload into your mouth if you’re not careful,” he warns. “Seriously, Bronte, if you wanted to prove that you don’t care about the glamour you’ve done it, sweetheart, but I want to knot you now.”

Just for that, I keep going, increasing my pace, making him swear again. He buries his hand in my hair, grabbing a handful and gently-but-firmly pulling until I release his dick with a wet pop . “ You, ” he says, voice deep and growly despite the humanesque body. “You’re in trouble.”

“Am I?” I’m grinning, and he tugs my hair with a little more force, tilting my neck back and exposing my throat. I never let a man do this sort of thing to me, but with West it’s different.

I think he knows it, too. He seems to know exactly what I’m thinking.

His expression softens as he looks down at me, his grip loosening, and I get that same ache in my chest that I had the other night, when the words make love to me had tumbled so carelessly from my mouth. It’s too soon to be feeling this way for a man I barely know, but then again I’ve never been more comfortable around anyone in my life. I’m having his babies, after all.

Everything about this is backwards, and I’m just as terrified as I am excited. I stand, needing him as close to me as possible, needing him inside me. My hands wrap around the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss, desperate and breathless, full of whimpers and moans. We fall backwards onto the bed together, his hands diving under my skirt, yanking down my lace panties and tossing them away as he bites at my lower lip. He kisses down my neck, tearing open my buttoned blouse as I whisper the words of the spell, our bodies returning to their natural state. I groan as his now-sharp canines drag across the swell of my breast, his hands roughly tugging down the cups of my bra, my nipples stiff peaks in the cool air.

“God I fucking love these tits,” he growls against my skin, his mouth latching around my nipple a moment later. He sucks hard, his hand trailing down my stomach, down further until thick fingers push into me as his thumb settles on my clit, and I buck up into him repeatedly, fucking myself on his hand. “So fucking wet,” he murmurs, biting at my other breast before giving that nipple the same treatment. I score my nails across his scalp, pressing his head further into me, loving the pleasure that borders on pain.

He’s a master at what he does, fingers curling inside me repeatedly, his pace never faltering, the flick of his tongue against my nipple and constant pressure on my clit enough to make me explode, my orgasm ripping through me, my breath caught in my lungs. He pulls his fingers out only to suck them clean, before kissing me again roughly so that the taste of myself is on my tongue. I moan into his mouth, reaching for his cock, slicking his precum over the head, but I barely get my hand around it before he’s pulling away, rolling me onto my side, lifting my leg as he presses behind me, his cock finding my entrance in one smooth motion.

One of these days I’m going to be the one dominating this man, but as he thrusts into me with enough force to make me wheeze, all thoughts of being the assertive, powerful woman that I am flee my mind in favour of wanting to be absolutely fucked by him. All I can do is moan incoherently as he sets a brutal pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hip as his knot slams into my pussy with each thrust, threatening to breach me each time. I love all the ways we have sex, the slow and sensual, the measured and calculated, and the moments like these, when it’s pure raw senseless fucking. “Get me pregnant,” I say, twisting my head and shoulders to look at him, watching the way his lip curls in a determined snarl as his eyes focus on where we are joined, revelling in the movement of his muscles beneath that tanned skin and the sheer size of him. “Fill me up.”

The crack of his hand against my ass is a pleasant shock. I moan, feeling myself beginning to unravel. He pulls me closer, sliding an arm underneath me, his long body curling around mine, teeth on my shoulder now, his grunts loud in my ear.

Bite me.

Bite me, bite me, bite me! my wolf howls, echoing the thought, and I bite down on my lower lip instead to stop myself from voicing it out loud, growling, drawing my own blood. West growls in response, his thrusts growing more erratic, and when he knots me I scream, howling as the intense pressure tips me over the edge as it always does, our biology so different and yet so similar, our bodies designed for this. Goddess I love the feeling of being filled by him, hyper-aware of his hot cum within me, spurt after spurt pumping me full. His bite is still hard on my shoulder but he doesn’t break the skin, and I reach back, threading my fingers through his hair as I come down from the high, heart racing in time with his, my head feeling light, ears momentarily ringing.

He kisses my neck, tongue swiping across my damp skin, and I hum with pleasure. “You taste too good,” he murmurs, and I turn my head once more for another messy kiss that leaves me breathless. His free hand smooths over my body in a pattern he repeats over and over again — breasts and stomach, waist and hip and thigh, and back again, and it’s easy for us to fall into a post-coital stupor, only half awake as I relax back against him. I wiggle slightly just to feel the pull of our tie, loving the feel and the knowledge that I am trapped here by him, caught on his dick, with no means of escape.

“West Maheras,” I say after some time.

“What?”

“I was thinking about how you called me Mrs Livingston, which I don’t mind being in this realm. Bronte Livingston has a nice ring to it… but you know that makes you Weston Maheras in the First Realm, right? If we’re applying the same logic.”

“Not necessarily to shifters.”

“Ah, but your wife is a werewolf. Our naming conventions are matrilineal, if marriage is involved. Which I’m assuming it is, given the fact that they even called me Mrs Livingston as we boarded this plane. I figured you have some sort of scheme up your sleeves to ensure I exist in this realm, in terms of legal documentation, et cetera.”

His arm tightens around me, nose buried in my hair. “How did you know?”

“Because I know you.” The words settle between us, and I know we’re both asking ourselves how much we really know of each other. “I don’t have to know all of your history to know you,” I add, but as the silence stretches on there’s a small part of me that questions whether I’m wrong.

“I have a guy I use for investments,” West says, and I glance at him again, listening curiously, because this is the strangest pillow talk topic we’ve covered yet. “He’s an orc, actually, born and raised in Scotland. He’s young but he has a good eye for property investments. I sent him a fax yesterday with a request to start looking into some properties to add to a new portfolio.”

“ Okay .”

“It’s for you, Bronte.”

He laughs at my double-take. “I could see you wondering why the hell I decided to talk business in bed.”

“I mean, if you need to, that’s fine, but…” I grin. “What do you mean, a new portfolio for me?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I think you’re more comfortable with the idea of staying in this realm than you let on. I think you see now why I can’t just leave my pack. I’m not trying to steamroll your decision making, and I want you to be happy. I don’t care for many people, but I care for you. It matters to me that you’re happy in our partnership, and if it’s a matter of pride, which I think may be the case, then I want to help ease that burden.”

Suddenly my heart is thundering in my chest. “You’re a bastard for bringing up this conversation while I’m still knotted to you.”

“I know. We have to talk about it, Bronte. I could see you worrying about it, before takeoff.”

“How do you?—”

“Because I know you. I don’t have to know all of your history to know you .”

Stress. That’s what I feel, a tightness in my chest that’s got nothing to do with love. I don’t know if I love him. How can you love someone after just a few days? How can you know that it’s real when hormones and magic influence everything?

“People are going to think I just gave up. That I just gave in for a man .” I laugh bitterly. “It doesn’t look good. I’m fucking Vivian. That’s what you’re telling me before, that you’re buying me a house? It’s that same damn story as in the movie!”

“Not a house. A portfolio of commercial real estate. Your own fortune, separate from mine, in a trust. I won’t touch it — it will be yours. Cameron can help you manage it.”

“They’re going to think I’m weak. You don’t understand what Maheras werewolves are like, they?—”

“No, I understand.” His tone is even more bitter than mine. “I’ve met your kind before. You know I’ve been to the First.”

“ My kind. ”

“They treat us shifters who remain in the First like shit, and you know it. Don’t tell me you’re that blind, Bronte.”

“I got treated like shit at the gala.”

“Not by everyone.”

“ No , I only got strangled?—”

West’s growl cuts me off, and I freeze. “Don’t remind me,” he snarls.

“Our worlds don’t fit!”

“You will fit into our pack. You will.”

“Because you’ll bark them into submission.”

“It won’t need to come to that. I know my pack. I have their trust. But you need to remember, barking them into submission is my job as an alpha. I know you hate how it feels on you, but that is life for a shifter. They know nothing else. It’s my role to command them.”

I feel too hot lying here, pressed to him, his dick still trapped in my cunt. “My grandmother will think I’m a failure.”

“Yes, she will. I’m not going to lie to you, Bronte,” he adds, seeing the look on my face. “We already established on the night I first met you that the woman is a bitch. She’s had her plans for you since you were born. I understand that. I know what it’s like to have your path laid out for you.”

“But I’m not sticking to that path, while you are.”

“I’m biologically wired for it, Bronte. I can’t change what I am. I’m an alpha because I was born one, there is no magic fix for this. You have the chance to have a choice. You don’t have to do what your grandmother decided for you before you could even walk.”

“So I just do what you want me to do instead.”

“I want you to do what you want to do. You seem happy here with me. You’re the one that’s been begging for me to knock you up.”

We stare at each other, both frowning, at an impasse.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do. I know I do that with my pack, but I don’t want to ever do that to you, Bronte. I don’t want that power imbalance between us. What I want is to know what’s going on in your head.”

“I don’t know!” I whisper desperately. “I want our future! I want our pups!”

He shrugs, the movement jostling us both. “Isn’t your answer there, then?”

I turn my head away from him again, sinking back into the mattress. “I hate that they’re all going to look down on me.”

“I know.”

“I hate that they’ll look down on you, and on our children. I already know that they will.”

“Fuck them. Who gives a shit about their bad opinions?”

I wish it were that easy. “ I care. I care that they think I’ll be downgrading my life.”

“Is it a downgrade? Are you disappointed? Do you wish I was someone else?”

I shake my head vehemently. “Of course not.”

“Then ignore them.”

“I thought you just said you weren’t going to tell me what to do,” I retort, my tone lighter than before as I look at him again over my shoulder. His lips twitch in the smallest of smiles, but I can see the naked worry in his eyes.

“I would let you go, if that’s what you needed. If that was your choice. I won’t keep you a prisoner, Bronte.”

My heart is breaking at the mere thought of it, my wolf howling, and a whine escapes my throat. West’s face contorts for a moment, a flash of raw emotion across his face, and I know he’s hurting at the thought, too. “My wolf hates the idea of that, and so do I,” I tell him.

“Then come here,” he says gruffly, as if I’m not still tied to him. He pulls me closer once more, his face pressing into my neck, taking ragged, gulping breaths. “You’re mine, ” he whispers desperately, arms holding me tight.

I go to use the bathroom cubicle behind the bed to clean up. It’s small but tidy, with a functional looking shower. I yelp when I flush the toilet, the loud sucking sound scaring the shit out of me, and West’s barking laugh fills the cabin. “You could have warned me!” I hiss, poking my head out of the cubicle. He laughs louder again, the noise carrying around the partition, and I step back through to find him wiping tears from his eyes, his face flushed with the effort of belly laughing. “Very funny, ha ha. How was I supposed to know it was a… a…”

“A vacuum system!” he answers, his voice strangely high pitched because he’s giggling . “Oh fuck, that’s so fucking funny.”

“I’m glad one of us is amused,” I say, but it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s like this. A happy mate, handsome and sexy and very naked, lying on a bed… what’s not to love? We’d both fallen asleep before his knot came free — risky, given our location — and we only woke five minutes ago to a strange sensation, as if we were dropping.

“We are,” West had confirmed, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re lowering altitude. Better undo your spell and get dressed; they’ll want us seated shortly.”

“Do I need to worry about a vacuum system shower?” I ask him now.

He flashes me a big grin. It’s still jarring to me sometimes, to see his teeth without his sharp canines. It’s him , and he’s a wolf and so am I, but I understand his bitterness about the universal glamour better now. I know he thinks things would be better if humans all knew about us. I’m not so sure, but it is exhausting having to actively hide ourselves from them, and I’ve only been here half a week.

“No,” he answers. “But I don’t want you showering at all. We’re heading straight to the pack. I want them to smell me.”

“Of course you do. You’re such a typical man.”

“As if you don’t like that I have your scent all over me.”

I shrug. It’s true, and I’m not going to deny it. “Okay, fine. I’ll smell like the alpha, and I’ve marked my territory on him.” I pick up my discarded underwear from the floor. “Does this make me a luna , then?” It’s an older term, a traditional role for the female mate of a male alpha. I don’t know much about it, but I know there’s alpha magic involved — pack bonds that link to the luna, too.

“You tell me.” His tone is completely neutral, as is his expression when I lift my head to look at him while I pull my panties back up my legs.

I make a scoffing noise, because I’m not, and he shrugs in acknowledgement.

“Well there you go, that’s your answer.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence!”

“You’re not a shifter.” His words aren’t harsh, just truthful, but it still stings a little. I don’t want to be a shifter, but damn , it certainly complicates things that I can’t even connect with a pack the way that they do. I turn away from him, finding my bra.

“Bronte.” His tone is gentle as he steps behind me, his arms enveloping me. I turn, pressing my face to his chest. “You’re not a shifter, but that doesn’t mean you’re not the alpha’s mate. You have the most honoured position in the pack. And I can tell you now, you’re the pack’s greatest asset. I know you’re worrying about how the pack will perceive you. I understand. But they’re not going to be able to say shit when they see what you can do. Elliot’s man attacked you because you are a threat, because of who you are and the weight of your name. You’re a weapon, and you’re mine. ”

I breathe deeply, taking comfort in his words, the scent of him. “You’ve thought about utilising my magic,” I say. It’s not a question, because I already know the answer. Of course he has. He thinks about everything this way, examining how situations and people can be useful to him. In that regard, he’s very similar to my grandmother.

“It’s a three hour drive to the pack’s forest. Once we’re away from busy traffic, we’re going to pull over and change. Take off the glamour, put on our clothes that fit us properly. You’re going to meet the pack in your true body. Glamour won’t be hiding mine. You’re going to allow the entire pack to be free from it for a night. Let them fuck with their knots and their teeth. Let them shift. Let them howl. This is how you become their most valuable pack member. You’ll never be a luna because you can’t be — but who gives a shit? Anita’s pack doesn’t have a luna; many packs don’t. You alone can offer our pack something that no one else can. Themselves. That’s fucking powerful. You are powerful; don’t think I don’t see it.”

I pull his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles, my words of thanks trapped in my throat.

“Can your visions be wrong?” West asks, glancing at me briefly before returning his attention to the road, his eyes hidden behind his aviator sunglasses. He looks like a movie star straight out of Top Gun as he adjusts the stick shift, changing gears. The convertible’s engine revs louder, the car picking up speed again as we cruise down the highway. I have no idea what the speed limit is here, but the needle on the dashboard creeps closer to ninety, and something tells me that’s probably illegal, and possibly by a lot.

The landscape here is so different to NYC, and in many ways reminds me more of Lykia. A cloudless blue sky, dry mountains in the distance, row upon row of grapevines flashing past the window as we travel north towards the pack-owned redwood forest where the majority of West’s pack is currently gathered.

“Maybe?”

“ Maybe. ” He’s unimpressed.

“I don’t know, that’s the honest answer. So many things have come true. My wolf knew our son — that’s going to happen. He’s going to be born.”

“It’s him that made me ask — the vines,” he lifts his right hand off the wheel to gesture at the vineyards out my window. “Perhaps he was here, in this area.”

I shake my head. “It was coastal.”

“We are coastal. The ocean’s that way.”

“No, it wasn’t here. There was a city across the water. The Pacific Ocean is there, right?” I point in his direction. “And then nothing as far as the eye can see — I saw it as we flew in!” I wind down my window for good measure, scenting the air, shaking my head as the smell confirms it. “No way, the air was much sweeter at our son’s house. He’s somewhere else. We’re somewhere else in the future — remember he said he was going to ‘call Dad,’ as if it was a situation you could rectify immediately.”

“That’s why I’m asking if your visions could be wrong. It seems strange that you interacted with him in that way, unless out there in the future, you’re snapping into a trance as your past self takes over your body. You would tell me if that also happens to you, wouldn’t you?” he asks, his voice taking on that authoritative, almost menacing tone.

“I would,” I confirm. “And no , it doesn’t happen that way.”

“So the vision could be wrong, then?”

“I think the vision could be slightly different when it plays out in reality, but I think it is a clear indication of where the future is going. I saw you, West. Your scent was exactly the same as it is now. I knew you were my mate. That’s why I was so comfortable even when —” I stop myself too late; he glances at me sharply and I know I’ve been caught. I haven’t told him about the finger-fucking vision yet, and I hadn’t planned on it, either.

“So comfortable when…?”

“When I had visions of you.”

“Visions. Vi sions ,” he repeats, emphasising the plural form.

“I told you I had visions of you, yes. You just never asked what the other vision was about.”

“ You.”

I giggle. I can’t help it, I love it when he pretends to tell me off like this.

“What is this other vision?”

“It’s nothing! ” I say, but my voice says it all.

“Was it sexual? It was sexual, wasn’t it? Did you fuck me in a vision before you even met me?”

“I mean, you’re the one who was putting his fingers inside me. ”

He shakes his head dramatically. “I can’t believe you kept this from me, Bronte.”

Guilt coils in my gut instantly — not about this, but about the Maheras Stone. The Moonstone . I trust West, and I could trust him with the full knowledge of what the stone can do when in the right hands — I know that now — but it feels too late. He’s going to be furious if he finds out. If I have it my way, there’ll be no need. No one knows the full extent of its powers but my grandmother and myself. It can stay that way.

West’s cock is hard again, the bar of it visible in his jeans. “Poor baby, are you jealous of the vision version of you?” I tease, keeping my voice light, ignoring the stress in my chest as I reach over to squeeze his erection. It twitches under my fingertips.

“Tell me about this vision,” he says, his voice raspier than usual. “We’ve still got an hour to go. I want all the details.”

I settle back against the leather seat, my cheeks hot. It’s one thing to have him finger fuck me senseless, and another entirely to describe it to him. “ Fine. ”

The road within the forest is winding, the terrain so different to anywhere I’ve ever been before. The trees are huge, and I feel silly for not realising that redwoods referred to the distinctive colour of their towering trunks. There’s more greenery on the forest floor than I expected — ferns and moss growing among the smaller shrubs and dry leaf litter.

West is no longer speeding, but I can tell he knows these roads like the back of his hand. I listen to him as he speaks quietly, almost reverently, about this place. How there’s plenty of game animals for hunting, and how the pack’s expanded territory ends north of here. That the pack has a network of cabins owned by the individual families, off-grid, though he’s invested in renovations to bring the buildings up to modern day standards. “Just don’t flush your tampons down the toilet and we’ll be fine,” he mutters, adding “Septic tanks,” at my confused expression, as if that alone explains everything.

He was raised in San Francisco, but he’s been coming here his whole life. He was born here too, his mother going into labour earlier than expected, birthing on the forest floor on hands and knees outside the family cabin with his three year old sister watching on cautiously, his father catching him with nothing but his bare hands and the shirt off his back. “It’s quite common for alphas to be born a few weeks early; something about our biology speeds things up right at the end.”

“And there were no signs of it?”

He shrugs. “She was in denial. I’ve seen the photos from that time. Her stomach was huge. My father used to say that she expanded overnight.”

“She wanted to have that extra month without a newborn.”

“She didn’t want an alpha for a child. No one does.”

I’m silent, caught by surprise at his words, and he glances at me, frowning behind his glasses. “It’s a curse,” he explains quietly. “I am who I am, and I don’t know any different, but being an alpha is a curse, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. I’m never free, and even if I were given the chance to be, I wouldn’t take it anyway. That would be too much like losing. I’m tethered to the pack, as they are to me.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve never thought of it that way.

“It’s not something you need to worry about when it comes to our own pups,” he adds, reaching over to rub my thigh momentarily, before setting his hand on the gearstick once more. “There’s only one known case of an alpha having an alpha child, so the future kids you saw are safe from the curse.”

“You’d think it’d be genetic, and passed down each generation, the same way magic seems to be in my family.”

“No. Can you imagine? It’d be awful. I’m not a nice guy, but I still don’t want to hate my own kid.” A creeping sensation moves up my spine as he speaks. “We’d have to be the unluckiest people in both realms to have an alpha pup.”

You shouldn’t tempt fate like that. I almost say the words out loud; my grandmother would. Instead I take a deep breath, leaning back into my seat.

We both fall silent, my mind replaying his words. I hate that he says I’m not a nice guy, and it’s unsettling to hear him say that he’s cursed. “I’m not worried about our children, but when you say you’re cursed I worry about you, ” I tell him quietly, picking up the earlier thread of our conversation. He shakes his head.

“You don’t need to. The hardest parts are behind me, at least for a long time.”

I only have the vaguest idea of what the hardest parts he’s referring to are. This is the most he’s ever talked about his past. I want to hear more, but he’s frowning now, deep in thought, and I turn my attention to the sight outside the window instead.

“The turn off is just around this bend.”

We’re heading to his cabin. He’s warned me to expect a crowd outside. “I’m nervous.”

“You’ll be fine. Remember what we talked about. You’re the asset. Show them that.”

He turns down a smaller road. The surface is still sealed, but now it’s barely wide enough for two vehicles. “Your cabin is the one you were born in front of, right? Will I meet them today?” I ask. “Your parents?”

I should have known from the way he never mentioned them when he talked about current pack members. I should have known, and seeing the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows heavily, breaks my heart. “You can’t. They’re dead.”

What can I say to that? There’s no words that are enough. I hesitate, before placing my hand on his thigh. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

It’s clear that that’s all the information he’s willing to offer me right now. I’m not going to push for more; I don’t want to upset him further, and we don’t have time, anyway. The trees begin to thin out, and I spot the first of the crowd gathered within the large clearing ahead; men and women of varying ages, all wearing the same guarded expression, and children playing in the distance. They all freeze when they hear the car, heads turning in our direction.

There’s a great zoo within elvish territory that my father took me to when I was a small child. I feel like one of the creatures from there, trapped behind glass, all the people staring in at me, the oddity.

“ Breathe, Bronte.”

“They’re going to hate me,” I whisper, quiet enough that only he will hear.

“They’re going to respect you. That’s Samuel,” he adds, nodding straight ahead at the man standing in front of the large log cabin. Samuel is another large man, tall, and burlier than West, with a face that’s handsome enough in a blunt, friendly way. There’s a little girl hiding behind his leg, her flaming red hair standing out, an unusual tone for a shifter.

West pulls up directly in front of the house and kills the engine. The forest is so silent it seems as if the whole world is holding a collective breath.

West removes his aviators, and so do I. His gold eyes linger on my face for a moment before he reaches for his door handle. “Let’s do this.”