Howl (Lost Moon: Unravelling Monsters Universe #2)

Chapter 22

22

brONTE

Eight months later

T here’s a rustle of blankets and a quick flash of cool air on my skin. A warm hand runs down my side a moment before my mate’s body presses to mine, his chest to my back, his knees tucking behind my own, and the hard bar of his cock a welcome sensation against the curve of my ass.

“Hm?” I hum, not fully awake. The scent of the forest clings to him; redwoods and fern, fresh air and leaf litter. Love, happiness, and contentment flow through our bond and I sigh, leaning back into him.

“Shh, keep sleeping,” he whispers, pressing a kiss behind my ear. His fingers dance over my round belly, and inside my little occupant moves, a lazy press of a limb or two. I slide my hand over West’s, adding gentle pressure, laughing quietly when I feel a strong kick against West’s hand in response.

“That’s my boy,” he murmurs as I turn my head, our lips meeting in a slow kiss that quickly deepens. Outside the dawn chorus of birds welcomes another day — the day of the full moon. I can feel it now, the pull of it bringing my wolf closer to the surface of my skin, and with it the restlessness and arousal, despite my current state.

“Please,” I whisper. It’s cold out, but this baby is like my own personal furnace, and I’ve been sleeping nude under the blankets. Lifting my leg in invitation is all that’s needed; West presses further against me, his hand guiding his cock home.

“ Jesus, ” he says, “you’re so fucking wet.”

“Yes,” I agree. I always am for him. I’m too big now to do anything but lay here, enjoying every stroke of him within me, his hand wrapping under the huge swell of my belly to a place I haven’t set sight on in months. His fingers stroke through my folds, teasing, almost-but-not-quite circling my clit. “ West, ” I whine, lifting my hips, bucking as much as I can. “You’re so cruel, teasing a pregnant lady like this.”

“Am I?” His hand leaves my pussy completely, gripping the soft flesh of my thigh instead, and the repetitive drag and thrust of his cock slows, making me whimper. Each time he pulls out as far as he can without slipping free, and it feels so good, but it’s not enough. I’m too hot now, and throw back the blankets, breathing a sigh of relief when West takes over the job, tugging them away from my body. His hand smoothes over the curve of my hip again, then over my belly and up to cup my breasts. They’re so sensitive now, nipples aching. Everything is sensitive; I feel like an overripe fruit, skin ready to split. I am being split open, my mate whispering obscenities like a prayer as he fucks me slowly, reverently, worshipping me as if I am the moon goddess, the wet sounds of sex filling the air. “ So fucking beautiful, ” he growls in my ear. “I’ll never understand how you’re mine.”

Fingers dancing over my nipples again, teeth on my neck, lips and tongue kissing and licking a path along my shoulder. His bites at the mating scar he gave me and I cry out at the jolt of pleasure that leaves me aching everywhere all at once, needing to be touched. “ Please. ”

“Soon, sweetheart. What’s this?”

He pulls his hand away from my breast, lifting his finger, the tip of it wet with a single drop of clear fluid that smells overly sweet. I laugh as he lifts it to his mouth, eyes growing wide as he tastes it, his pupils shining in the dim light. “I only noticed it for the first time when I used the bathroom earlier,” I say. “I think I’ll start leaking more from now on. Look.” Another bead of colostrum is already forming on the same nipple, gold-tinted liquid, not yet true milk. I laugh again as West leans in over me as far as he can in our position, his hand cupping and lifting my breast towards him, his long tongue extending out to cover the last of the distance. He groans, eyes closing, while I reach back to grasp at his hair. “ Weston, ” I say sternly. I’m not at all surprised that he would find my milk erotic — it’s very much on brand for him — but I’m done playing. “You have teased your pregnant wife far too much. I need to come, and I need to come now. Hurry up. ”

He pulls out of me and I make a disappointed sound, but he’s kissing down my back, dragging me over the mattress into a better position for him as he turns and lays upside down in front of me, lifting my leg and settling his head between my thighs while I remain on my side. His head and neck have disappeared behind the great sphere of my belly — if I wasn’t pregnant I could pull him closer, get his cock in my mouth, but as it is I settle for grasping his shaft, still slippery from me, sliding my hand down to squeeze his knot hard. He grunts, cock twitching in my hand.

“I’ll crush you,” I whisper as he pulls my thigh down against the side of his head, urging me to settle the weight of my leg on him.

“Then I’ll die a happy man. This is my favourite place in the world right here. Now relax and come on my face.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s teased me long enough that I’m primed, over sensitive, gasping at every lick of his tongue, already so close. When he presses his long tongue into me I know that’s for him; he loves eating pussy, loves the taste of me, is obsessed with fucking me in all the ways he can. Fingers replace his tongue, his mouth now on my clit, licking, sucking, a perfect pace and —

I groan, cunt spasming against his lips, the orgasm strong and deep, my whole belly growing hard for a moment. I’m still coming down from it when he switches positions again, behind me once more, and in one smooth thrust he’s buried deep inside me.

We’re past the point of words now. His pace grows faster, his breath ragged, his grip tight on my hip. Our flesh slaps together, and if anyone were to wander by the cabin right now there’d be no doubt about what we’re doing. “Gonna knot you,” he grunts, thrusting hard. “This pussy is mine.”

I grasp at the sheets beneath me, clinging on, letting go, another wave of pleasure catching me by surprise.

“Fuck!” He gives one final thrust forward, knot filling me, my already pulsing cunt filled even more, feeling so fucking good as I squirt in a spray of fluid that soaks the bed while his cum spurts hot within me.

I grow breathless so easily these days, all my organs crushed by this huge pup inside me, and I suck in deep breaths now, eyes closed, enjoying the afterglow, the feeling of utter satisfaction bouncing between us through the bond.

There’s contractions too, not painful, but strange, my stomach growing hard again, the sensation odd. West feels it, grunting in surprise at the difference beneath his palm, a pang of concern flitting through the bond before he pulls it back, and I know he’s holding all his worries in. For much of this pregnancy I’ve felt like the goddess herself, relaxing into my new curves, a symbol of fertility and the future, growing another wolf for this pack. Now, with the onset of these Braxton Hicks — false contractions as my body readies itself for birth, my belly has begun to feel like a ticking time bomb. Everything is going to change.

West pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair, his voice so quiet as he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too, my darling. So much.”

Tonight when the moon rises the Goddess will shine upon us, and I will transform. It should be the penultimate full moon before our son is born, but in the past two weeks my belly has grown so quickly, my skin stretched taut, stretch marks snaking all the way past my belly button, and I’ve heard the whispers in the pack.

I think she’s carrying an alpha, that baby is coming early.

No, it’s not possible.

And, the worst: Logan did say that the pixie cursed them.

I’ve met our son, and I cling to the fact that in all the visions of him he was either with his father, or mentioned him. There was no animosity between them. He won’t be an alpha.

I tell myself this, but in my heart I don’t believe it. That’s the problem with divination; sometimes fate will tell you things you don’t want to know.

I do know one thing; West would do anything, everything, for our family.

This pup shouldn’t be coming yet, but I know in my heart that he is, and so I pull out the dress I took from the First, made from beautiful cream lace, with long, dramatic sleeves. It’s supposed to be used in only the most special of moon ceremonies, but this is what is most special to me. I’m welcoming my child into the world, my child with a shifter, and I’m proud of us.

Wearing it is my fuck you to my grandmother.

The pack is already out in force, every member capable of shifting running in the forest, already in their wolf forms. I walk barefoot across the clearing in front of our cabin, following the path worn over the years by many feet and paws, singing to the Goddess as I go. I travel much slower now, my walk more of a waddle, but I feel alive here among the great trees, my magic sparking beneath my skin. A huge black wolf appears on the track before me, his tail wagging, and I smile, throwing my hands to the sky, singing louder for the Goddess and for my mate, my skin glowing gold with my own light. There are no drums here, but I don’t need them. I have a pack of wolves, so different and yet so similar to me. They join in the singing with their howls and barks, their own version of worship.

West’s howl is the loudest, one of my favourite sounds, his head tipped back to the darkening sky. He nuzzles my hand when I reach out to him, and I steady myself at his side, resting my forehead against his fur and listening to the deep, steady thump of his heartbeat.

My body, like all werewolves, is so connected and driven by the moon that I know exactly when she begins to rise over the horizon, out of sight but certainly not out of mind. I press a kiss to West’s fur and then stand tall, one hand on the shoulder of my wolf mate, the other held in front of me as the change begins, fingernails turning to long black claws, my skin now a deep charcoal grey, the change stretching up my arms, fur sprouting, skin stretching, bones changing, control slipping. The fabric of my ceremonial dress tears apart at the seams, falling to the ground in pieces as I grow tall. In this form, with so much more room inside my torso, my pregnant belly is all but a small bump, hidden behind fur. Aware of the moon in the way all pups are, my child stirs within me, little kicks letting me know he’s wide awake. Though his little body doesn’t change, the magic still moves through him, and I know he won’t sleep until dawn.

The magic moves through West, too. His wolf is always happiest when the full moon is high. I stroke my claws though his soft fur, scratching behind his ear, my sharp-toothed grin matching his. Tonight we’ll hunt together with the pack, running down game, teeth tearing through flesh, blood hot in our mouths.

We are wolves, after all.

I throw my head back at the same time as my mate, the magic of the moon surrounding us.

Together, we howl.