Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
Alexander Grey and his brood. It doesn’t take long to spot them. Grey stands tall and proud, his chest puffed out like he owns the place. His son, Phoenix, hovers nearby, his expression stoic and unreadable. And then there’s his daughter, Jessa, draped over Kellan’s arm like a fucking accessory.
I can’t help but scoff at the sight. The Blackwoods are so transparent in their attempts to force an alliance between our packs. As if I would ever allow that to happen. I may be young, but I’m not stupid. I know better than to trust a pack with a reputation like theirs. Their alpha didn’t even show up, proving that he had little respect for the Council or the other packs within it. Any alliance would be nothing more than a facade in an attempt to take it over in the next generation. The real question is, why has their interest turned to us?
I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text to
Kellan.
[LUCAS: What’s the youngest daughter wearing? I don’t see her with the others.]
As I wait for his response, my gaze continues to roam the ballroom. And that’s when I see her.
She’s standing off to the side, almost hidden in the shadows. Her dark blonde hair falls in soft waves around her face, and her thickframed glasses only seem to enhance the striking blue of her eyes. They’re the lightest shade of blue I’ve ever seen, almost like ice.
She’s wearing an elegant little number in black, with the barest peek at the swell of her breasts. My fingers twitch as the fabric swirls gently around her hips, giving just a hint of the curves beneath. I don’t pay much attention to women’s clothing, but I like hers. A
lot.
Classy. Sexy. Mine.
I feel a sudden stirring of desire deep in my gut, and my wolf growls in the back of my mind. It’s a sound I’ve never heard before, a primal recognition of something I can’t quite put my finger on. All I know is that I want her, and I want her now.
I’m too far to scent her, and my wolf urges me to get closer. Instead, I stick to the shadows and keep my eyes on her. She’s uncomfortable, and walks as though her shoes are foreign, but she’s clearly a little older than most of the firsttime shewolves who attend this
Moonforsaken matefest.
She stiffens in a way that I can see from here, and her head begins to dart around, her brows furrowed. I’m certain she can sense my regard, and my wolf salivates at the idea of the hunt, even as he howls in my head that I need to get my ass closer. Close enough to sniff her, to hold her against my body, to scent her. Only her shoulders and arms are showing in that black dress she wears, and her pale skin gleams under the artificial lights of the ballroom.
Then there’s that little hint of her breasts in that diamondshaped hole over her chest. A tease, and a delectable one. I want to bite her there, to leave my mark for everyone to see that she’s been claimed by her alpha.
I run my tongue over my canines, smiling when she scurries to another end of the room and looks around again. What does she smell like? What taste would explode in my mouth with the first lick? She strikes me as sweet, like honey.
Take her, scent her, rut her, my wolf growls, and I can feel him clawing at the invisible boundary of our shared psyche.
Could it possibly be that I’ve finally found my mate?
I continue to circle and watch over my prize, excitement flaring when her diminutive form darts toward the gardens a halfhour before midnight.
Oh yes, little wolf. I’m coming.
[WARNING: Mature content.]
LUCAS
My wolf howls in triumph as I stalk after the little blonde, keeping to the shadows of the garden. She’s oblivious to my presence, her attention focused on the phone in her hand. The glow of the screen illuminates her face, casting a soft light over her delicate features. I can see the reflection of its screen in her glasses, and find myself disappointed that the colors obscure those striking eyes of hers.
As I draw closer, I catch a whiff of her scent on the breeze. Honey and vanilla, with a hint of something else. Something that calls to me on a primal level. My wolf is practically salivating, urging me to close the distance between us and claim what’s mine. She must not be my matemy wolf would know at first scent- but she’s definitely something special.
I watch as she taps at her phone with a sense of urgency. A rideshare app, from the looks of it. Is she trying to leave?
The thought sends a surge of possessiveness through me. Like hell I’m going to let her slip away now that I’ve found her.
I move quickly, closing the distance between us in a few long strides. She doesn’t even have time to react before I yank at her arm, spinning her around to pull her against my chest, wrapping one arm around her waist. My hand settles possessively there, gently stroking at the dip before her hips begin to flare. Her skin is warm and tantalizing, even through the soft fabric.
“Where do you think you’re going, little wolf?” I murmur, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
She stiffens in my arms, and my wolf does not like that. “Let me go,” she demands, but there’s a tremor in her voice that belies her bravado.
I chuckle, the sound low and dark. “Now why would I do that? I’ve been watching you all night, waiting for the perfect moment to introduce myself.”
She twists in my grip, trying to get a look at my face. “Who are you?”
“Lucas Westwood, alpha of the Westwood pack.” I dip my head, nuzzling against the crook of her neck. Her scent is even stronger here, and I inhale deeply, letting it fill my lungs. “And you, little wolf, are coming with me.”
Take her, my wolf urges. Here. Rut her here. Don’t wait. Cover her in our scent.
Horny fucking bastard. But still, he has a point. My delicate little wolf has a crescent scar on the left side of her neck, and I swear her scent is even stronger there. Giving in to temptation, I lick it in a long, slow swathe of my tongue.
When I feel her shiver, triumph curves my lips. Her quick little intake of breath seems to shoot straight down to my cock. It has been standing at attention all night, but now it’s harder than I think I’ve ever been in my life. Fuck, this woman smells divine.
“Get off me,” she whispers, and I growl my displeasure at her words. But her hands, tiny delicate little things, with curious little fingers, slide up my chest. She’s not pushing me away.
Take her. Rut her. The Moon blesses us.
The full moon seems to twinkle in agreement. Either that, or I’m delusional from every drag I take off this woman’s skin. At some point, my hands had crawled of their own accord down her hips and around, gently massaging the generous curve of her ass.
I growl again, this time in approval, and she melts into me.
“Name?” I demand, nipping and gently suckling at the scar on her neck. In the dim light, I can just make out a bruise on her shoulder that seems to be covered in that powder women put on their faces. It makes my wolf howl in fury, and I brush my fingers over it.
She flinches, and I yank her closer, rubbing her pelvis against the tops of my thighs. Fuck, she’s tiny, even in those fuckme heels she’s wearing. They have to add at least three inches to her.
A part of me realizes I should probably pull back. Be a gentleman. Introduce myself again with a lot less handson rubbing and squeezing. Maybe stop licking her neck.
But she moans, and I slide my hands under her pert ass to lift her until the very core of her cuddles against my cock, hot and wet and welcoming behind the barrier of her panties. I can feel it through my pants, especially when she wraps her legs around me and squeezes.
I realize then that she still hasn’t given me her name, but the words that do come out of her mouth become my highest priority.
“Weird request,” she pants into my ear, rubbing against me in the most delicious little roll of her hips, “Can you find a wall to shove me against?”
Fuck. Me.
I glance around, knowing I probably look like a feral man, before I kiss her with all the desperation my cock is holding onto, sweeping my tongue into her mouth to lay claim to every last inch of her softness. She tastes just like she smells, and it’s hard to pull away, but I do. Because, fuck. This is happening.
“No walls,” I grunt, and nip at her jaw, loving the little mewling sound she makes at the contact. “Only trees.”
She gasps something that sounds like, “Great,” so I do what any man in my situation would do.
I slam her against the thickest tree I can find
?/7
unbuttoning my slacks so the tip of my cock can shove against her hot, wet little entrance, held back by her panties. They’re black and lacey and I want to rip them off her, but I’m trying to be a gentleman.
Kind of.
I slide my hand into that fancy hairdo of hers and fist my fingers in it, relishing her sharp gasp at the pain. Tugging her head back, I fight the urge to howl as her slender neck arches in forced submission.
I bite where a mating mark would go, hard enough to bruise without piercing skin, and suck hard as I shove two fingers into her mouth, demanding without words that she reciprocate.
And she does.
That sweet little tongue licks and laves at my fingers before she sucks them into her mouth with a little groan, and I rock against her hard, feeling that slight give in her core as my tip enters her, just a millimeter, with that soaking wet silk between us.
Fucking. Heaven.
[WARNING: Mature Content]
If someone had told me that, mere days after that incident with Todd, I’d be in a similar situation with a stranger and enjoying the fuck out of myself, I would have advised them to check in to a psych ward. That’s not how trauma works.
But apparently it might.
Maybe it’s just because he’s so… Tall. Dark. Handsome. All the cliches you can dream, that’s him. Especially when he makes no secret of his attraction toward me, despite all the harsh words Jessa and Mom had thrown my way while getting ready. Apparently this man doesn’t think I’m too short, or that my hips are too wide. He seems to like them a lot, actually.
So when I feel his tongue against my neck and realize that the sensation is completely different coming from someone like Tall, Dark, and Sexy, that primitive part of me goes absolutely wild.
That voice inside of me, the one that’s absolutely me, tries to tell me that maybe I should step back and think for a second. That this connection is weird. That I don’t act like this, and I should really respect myself more.
But the throbbing down below tells that voice to shut the fuck up and move over, that he’s my fated, and then it asks him to slam me against a wall.
I have no idea where that level of bravado came from, and when my back hits the rough bark of the tree to add more bruises to my body, desire floods everything in a way even romance novels hadn’t prepared me for.
Oh sweet baby Jesus in a manger. Sweet Moon Goddess. This man is magic.