Chapter 7 Lucas: Gala (III)

[WARNING: Mature content.]

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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 mate—my 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.

not like that. "Let me go," she demands, but there's a tremor in her voice that belies her

sound low and dark. "Now why would I do that? I've

trying to get a look

I dip my head, nuzzling against the crook of her neck. Her scent is even stronger here, and I

Rut her

But still, he has a point. My delicate little wolf has a crescent scar on the left side of her neck,

cock. It has been standing at attention all

and I growl my displeasure at her words. But her hands, tiny delicate little

Rut her.

Either that, or I'm delusional from every drag I take off this woman's skin. At some point, my hands had crawled

time in approval, and she

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

and I yank her closer, rubbing her pelvis against the tops of my thighs. Fuck, she's tiny, even in those fuck-me heels she's wearing. They have to add at

probably pull back. Be a gentleman. Introduce myself again with a lot less

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

that she still hasn't given me her name, but the words that do come out of her mouth become my highest

the most delicious little roll of her hips, "Can

Fuck. Me.

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