Tangled

7 Lucas: Gala (III)

[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 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

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7 Lucas: Gala (1)

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

that belies her bravado.

chuckle, the sound low and dark. “Now why would I do that? I’ve been

get a look at

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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

me.”

wolf urges. Here. Rut her here. Don’t wait. Cover her in

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,

quick little intake of breath seems to shoot straight down to my cock. It has

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

Rut her. The Moon blesses us.

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that, or I’m delusional from every drag I take off this woman’s skin. At some point,

time in approval, and

1. me.

the scar on her neck. In the dim light, I can just make out

shoulder that seems to be covered

powder women put on their faces. It makes my wolf howl in fury, and I

tops of my thighs. Fuck,

inches to

pull back. Be a gentleman. Introduce myself again with a lot less hands–on rubbing and squeezing. Maybe

her neck.

ass to lift her until the very core of

Gøøglᴇ to

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Lucas Gala

the barrier of her panties. I can feel it through my pants, especially when she wraps her legs around me and

squeezes.