Wolf Born. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

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      “Some other time and place,” he told her, “this would take much longer and move much slower. Hours. Days. Weeks.”

      “Find me. Promise,” was all she said in return.

      Somehow, Colton knew there was no time for foreplay and that the needs driving them ruled out any effort at further restraint. With trembling fingers, he explored the spot he needed for entering her body. Although she might have been kept from this in the past, Rosalind was more than willing. Between her thighs, behind a wedge of dark fur, she had dampened. With his fingers pressed against her, she growled low in her throat.

      When her legs opened for him, he forgot everything else. Time, and all that had gone on before, seemed to slip away.

      Easing the tip of his cock inside her, Colton closed his eyes. He didn’t want to move, wanted to linger and soak up this wicked heat, but he had to continue. His body demanded satisfaction.

      With an agonizing slowness, he began to make tender stroking motions, moving his hips, dipping in and out of her meagerly at first, amazed that he could exert this much will over himself when what he longed for was a singular thrust hard enough to fill her completely.

      He shook with the intensity of that desire.

      He and this stranger had imprinted. And this sealed the deal. That’s the way this went: eyes, thoughts, body, then soul. They had bonded, and all he knew about her was her name, and that she had pulled him up from unconsciousness, and how extremely hot she was.

      Inside, she was tight and beautifully lush. He stroked her gently until that tightness began to relax and a rush of cream surrounded his erection. Even in man form, he nearly howled.

      As he pressed himself farther inside her, Rosalind made more encouraging noises in her throat. When he stopped moving, she seemed to stop breathing altogether.

      “I will find you,” he said with a pledge that seemed to have been dragged from his heart.

      Though she gasped, Rosalind didn’t open her eyes.

      “You understand what this means?” he asked gruffly, because her body, and what she was allowing him to do with it, had stolen his own breath away.

      Her eyelids fluttered, the long, midnight-hued lashes dark against her flawless ivory skin. As he studied her face, her chin moved up and down once. She understood perfectly.

      “All right,” he whispered to her. “God. Okay.”

      His plunge into her rich depths brought another, louder, sound from her throat. It was a purr of encouragement. A nod to pleasure.

      Colton withdrew, then sank his length into her again and again, building a rhythm that took him deeper and deeper, trying not to burst with the pleasure this gave him. He hung on to his sanity by a thread.

      When waiting was no longer an option, he lowered himself to her body and drove himself into her with a force that rocked his body and hers.

      Unparalleled gratification careened through him that was as violent as live wires crossing. And when Rosalind bent her knees, grabbed his buttocks with her hands and invited him to partake of the last remaining barrier, he felt the rise of an oncoming orgasm that would truly weld them together for life.

      With his scent on her, and imbedded in her, no other Were could hope to gain her interest. That’s also the way this worked. She would be his. Forever. Until death do us part.

      And when she drove her hips against his, he tumbled over the rim of an abyss. One more move of his own hips, and he executed just one more powerful thrust; the exact one he had longed to make.

      He reached the molten center of the female beneath him, not thinking of taking or claiming her now, but offering himself to her in a union that was tantamount to the binding of their souls.

      “Rosalind.”

      The rumble started in his back, spread to his torso and careened between his legs. A similar rumble, like an approaching earthquake, tore through Rosalind, hitting and then overtaking them at the same time.

      The room exploded with a light that seemed to carry in it all the emotion of the life Colton had lived so far. With their moist bodies pressed together in a rigid few seconds of suspended stillness, and their mouths locked together so that no sensation could go unresolved, the suddenness of the intensity of their mingled ecstasy ripped through them.

      But so did something else.

      One last peripheral sensation slid through Colton unexpectedly as he reached his peak.

      In that moment of heightened awareness, as his body convulsed with pleasure, he was sure that Rosalind tasted not only like wulf, but of metal.

      In her feverish mouth, and at her heated core, lay a hint of what he imagined silver to taste like. Silver, a concoction that was the bane of all Weres, purebred or otherwise.

      Absurd.

      He let the notion go as he rode the crest of a wave of ecstasy prolonged by each tremor that shook her.

      And when the storm finally subsided and some time had passed without sound or motion, Colton was afraid to move. Afraid to believe. Opening his eyes, he again found Rosalind’s eyes waiting.

      Problem was those eyes were no longer green.

      Liquid darkness swam in Rosalind’s irises, drowning the color, turning them black. It was like watching a curtain drop over a verdant landscape. Like a dark veil descending suddenly to cloak something fine.

      The sudden strangeness made Colton draw back. The skin on his neck prickled. His jaw tensed.

      “What the—”

      What had happened to Rosalind? Hell, had he just linked himself to a Were who might be something more than wulf?

      He heard the word special in his mind, and knew it came from her thoughts. He didn’t like the questions turning up.

      Was the key to Rosalind’s well-guarded seclusion the fact that she might not be just any She after all, but something else? Something far more dangerous?

      Was that why she wasn’t allowed out, when Lycan females were so scarce, and why she felt she was different?

      Perhaps also sensing this, or seeing the concern in his expression, Rosalind opened her mouth to protest the look on his face. After a brief hesitation, she uttered a strangled cry.

      Between her beautiful lips, so swollen and lush and pink, lay a pair of tiny needle-sharp incisors reminiscent of no wulf canines that Colton had ever seen. On her lower lip lay a fine sheen of pooled red droplets where she had bitten herself during their moments of shared passion.

      Blood. On her mouth.

      Dark blood, red as roses.

      Before Colton caught a startled breath, his lover, his she-wulf, the female he had sealed himself to forever, moved from under him with an astonishing speed that was little more than a time-slip of barely disturbed air.

      She leaped gracefully onto the sill СКАЧАТЬ