Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 186

Chapter 186: Caine: Control (Or Lack Thereof)

CAINE

I shouldn’t be here.

Not like this, ogling my mate when she’s still weak and exhausted.

But I’m weak to the temptation wrapped in her skin, to the overwhelming scent of blueberry muffins in this space, and to the indecent fantasies taking up most of my thoughts.

Jack-Eye said he learned a new trick, Fenris reminds me.

I hadn’t paid much attention at the time, and now I regret it. I’ll have to ask Jack-Eye for more details. The thought of asking him for details of his sex life is... not appealing.

But he’d mentioned one crucial point: it didn’t require touching.

My eyes darken as I curse the me of yesterday, too impatient to deal with Jack-Eye’s perverted ramblings while I worried about bringing my frail mate back to the pack she’d escaped.

Against my better judgment, my hand reaches out. The pathetic square of cloth peels away from its clinging embrace, baring the whole of her breasts to my view.

Satisfaction rumbles in my chest, and her nipples tighten in the humid air.

I barely keep myself from groaning.

She exhales, a shuddering little breath, and it instantly drags out memories of her flushed beneath me, responsive to my every touch.

Focus.

Taxes. Rogue disputes. Jack-Eye’s dissertation on scat identification when we were pups. All topics to cool the fire burning in my loins, and yet—

Nothing works. Not with her standing there, droplets sliding down her skin, wetness darkening the waist of her thin panties.

The attraction of a mate bond is brutal for any wolf, but this—this is torture beyond what I imagined possible. Every day I’ve kept my hands off her deserves a goddamn medal. The longer we go without feeding the bond, the worse it gets, like an addiction crawling beneath my skin.

Control yourself. Fenris’s voice rumbles through my thoughts, unusually serious.

assents, but

have over the energy transfer

already been through so much. The last thing I should be doing is pressuring her with my own

running her tongue over her bottom

Fuck.

us shrinking, and I remind myself she’s not in control. She’s as much of a victim to this mate bond as I am. Perhaps more, as she’s a mere human against the force

would keep his damn hands at his sides and step

not a good

learned a little," she whispers,

has a pouty quality, and her expression matches—a sultry little downturned mouth I’m desperate to taste. Either that or I’m utterly depraved, painting her with

step back, putting precious

quick furrow of her brow I probably wouldn’t have caught if I weren’t staring at her so intently. But then she shakes her

My hands twitch.

mouth opens on its own. "Do you

was... washing herself,

to help

supposed to touch her,

hair over her shoulder

My mouth goes dry.

does absolutely nothing to clear my head. The scent of her fills my lungs instead, making

soaked in blood without flinching. I’ve sentenced traitors to death

out through gritted

shoulders subtly hunch in defense, and I feel

was just... hot and sweaty. Trying to get

Hot. Sweaty. Relief.

word out of her mouth might as well be foreplay. I turn to the sink and

not some sex-deprived

can control this level of

Sure you can.

Damn wolf.

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