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Even in his wolf form, pretending to chase down his prey in the woods, he’d still seemed human, seemed in control. There was nothing human about this rapacious creature staring at him.
A growl resounded in Richard’s chest as he scraped sharp canines over Hunter’s throat. “You’re going to smell so fucking perfect when you’re mine,”
Richard brought his lips tantalizingly close to Hunter’s. “I’m going to make you feel so good. Fuck you and make you mine. Stretch you wide open on my knot so the whole world knows who you belong to, and you’re going to love every second of it.”
Richard bent forward and breathed in, eyelids fluttering shut as he inhaled. Another of those low rumbles rolled through him like thunder. When he opened his eyes, they were glowing amber,
Richard was emitting a carnal rumble that Hunter felt in his balls more than he heard, the sound more wolf than man as Richard’s hot, wet mouth enveloped him. He sucked Hunter’s cock like it was his life’s purpose, not just his job.
The thought smacked into him like a semi-truck, backed over him, then rammed into him again. Hunter smelled good. On him. No. No, no, no. Uh-uh.
After a long stretch, Hunter answered, freshly showered and entirely too clean. The kind of clean that was asking to be dirtied.
“You know,” Hunter said, his words slurring. “I thought you’d be a complete asshole, but you’re actually kind of nice sometimes, aren’t you?” “Not even remotely,” Richard said gruffly. “Liar.” Hunter curled up in the passenger seat and dozed the entire two-hour drive home, covered in Richard’s scent. Richard’s wolf was disgustingly pleased.
He tucked Hunter into bed, then went to leave. And froze, unable to take another step, a sudden panic crawling in his chest at the idea of leaving the room. Of being anywhere other than where Hunter was. Especially when he was this weak and vulnerable.
“You were about half right. You’ll be a mage who I, a broody pack alpha or some shit, have gone to for a Very Important Ritual. The script glossed over the exact purpose of the ritual, but it’s definitely Very Important. Then, during the ritual, you will slip. And fall. And land on my knot.”
“I’m going to assume normal magic circles don’t generally feature twelve dicks drawn in glitter, all ejaculating sparkles toward a blank center where I’m guessing we’ll be fucking,” Hunter said.
Off to the side, Tristan handed Hunter a large leather-bound book. “‘Ye Olde Tome o’ Seks Magyck?’” Hunter asked. Tristan nodded gravely. “Passed from generation to generation.” Hunter flipped through it. “All the pages just say ‘seks’ repeatedly.” “How do you think there were more generations to pass it to?”
“I know jack shit about the supernatural, but this doesn’t sound like actual magic.” “Congratulations. You officially know more about magic than the MateHub writers.”
Hunter stepped into the circle with him. He looked around at the cocks surrounding them. “This is going to end with me having glitter in my ass for weeks, isn’t it?” “Would you rather clean it up?” Tristan asked. “Even with magic, I’m going to be covered in the shit forever.”
“You’ve got glitter on your face.” Amusement rolled through their bond as he tried to brush it away once more, then gave up. “No use. You’ll have to live with being glittery from now on.” He grinned at Richard, his warm brown eyes sparkling with laughter, his dark curls beyond disheveled. Richard had never needed to kiss anyone more in his life. But he didn’t have to do anything; Hunter did it for him, closing the distance between them, licking into Richard’s mouth. Richard closed his arms tighter around Hunter. Some corner of his brain protested that they should end this scene and let Rhys
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“Any chance you’ll carry me to my dressing room this time, too?” Hunter shifted his hips against Richard in a way that threatened to get him hard again real fast. It hit Richard with a gut-sinking certainty that the actual question was, “Any chance he wouldn’t?”
“For shifters, when our animal sides are at the surface, we’re more primal, less inhibited. There’s a lot more ‘It’s mine’ and ‘I want it, so I take it.’ Our human sides have the ability to override those instincts and impulses. It can be a struggle, but if we want to, we can. Wolf shifters on full moons rarely want to. Wolf shifters with new mates never do.”
“Making animals fight is unethical.” Richard’s expression was clearly judging Hunter’s entertainment choices. “Oh my god. You’re such a softy. I thought you were some complete unfeeling jackass, but you won’t even kill a fictional animal in a video game. You’re the softest softy to ever soft. How do you do porn when you’re this soft?”
“Not wanting to see an animal get hurt, even a fictional one, doesn’t make me soft. It’s totally normal. There’s a reason the website ‘Does the Dog Die?’ exists.”
Hunter let out a breath. Richard caring for adorable mystical creatures and being really fucking good at it was not cute. Or attractive. Or any other adjective. He was a jackass. Not cute. One game didn’t change that. Regardless of what Hunter’s competence kink was trying to tell him.
In his mind, Richard was nothing but chaos and instincts, a battle for control.
His gaze landed on the juncture of Richard’s neck, on the smooth skin there. Too smooth. He should fix that. The instinct too overwhelming to deny, he leaned forward, his mouth latching onto Richard’s shoulder. He bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to bruise. But damn, he wanted to do more than that. He wanted to sink his teeth into Richard, wanted everyone to see his claim etched there.
“It’s so bizarre to hear you use a video game analogy,” Hardin said. “Right?” Max said. “You need to come with me next time so you can see him play. It’s surreal.”
Also, there’d randomly be cat hair on our couch. We didn’t have a cat. Though twice I did walk in on him jumping up from the couch, startled and bare-ass naked.” Richard snickered. “Cat naps?” “I know that now. Apparently, he heard me coming with enough time to shift, but not to get dressed.
Richard couldn’t imagine many humans being okay with having an apex predator magically appear in their apartment.
“Can you feel how good you’re making this for me?” Hunter asked. “Yeah.” Hunter was alight in his mind, bright and blazing and making everything worth it.
They wobbled to Richard’s dressing room on unsteady legs. And if they kissed their way through their post-scene shower, well, Hunter would eventually figure out how to call that professional too.
Their bodies fit against each other in a way that bordered on divine, and when he sank into Hunter, the only words that existed in the universe were ‘home’ and ‘mine.’
“You didn’t answer. What do I smell like?” “Like home,” Richard said, his voice hushed, a caress against Hunter’s skin. “Like the softness of cashmere hiding wrought iron beneath.”
They kissed under the warm spray, bodies sliding and tangling in ways that surpassed words like perfection and divine.
