But if anything, this only made it worse. As if angered by her meager offering, her pussy clenched even tighter, sucking her fingers into its vise grip, but refusing to be satiated by anything less than a mate’s cock. Soon, tears of frustration began to roll down her cheeks. They weren’t even an hour into the full moon and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could bear the wait for Rafe to change back and come find her.
“Please, please…” she begged no one in particular as she rubbed herself against the mat, trying desperately to find some sort of release.
And that was when his scent filled her nostrils. She opened her teary eyes and found the Viking standing at the bottom of her stairs. He had clearly been watching her trying to masturbate. And his eyes were hot with one hundred percent unadulterated and extremely feral lust.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HIS captors locked him away in a cage, located in a below-ground room, the manner of which would have been impossible in his own land. They then walked away to heed the call of the moon.
Fenris had but one notion: to break out of his trap before he shifted. He took from around his neck a wolf medallion, which, when manipulated in the correct fashion, broke apart into two jagged pieces, one representing the wolf and one representing the man. Either half could be used as a false key, and thus did he release himself from his would-be jail. And he thought he beat the moon, but then he spied the full moon, sitting in the night sky, having already risen.
He stopped, narrowing his eyes at the sight. Did the wolves of this land have potions that interrupted the shift? The tutor they had beckoned to translate his tongue had told him the fated mates spell had moved him over a thousand years into the future. He had heard tales of the spell transporting wolves through not just space, but also time. But just as he had never met anyone in the flesh who had travelled to and from Valhalla, he had never met anyone who had traveled through time as it was claimed the spell could do.
Until now.
What strange land had the spell delivered him to? The moon had driven its chariot into the sky. Yet he remained a man. He waited, all the while, feeling the moon coursing through his body, but nothing happened.
That is, nothing happened until the smell of his mate’s arousal reached his nostrils, strong and as thick as the smoke from a pit fire. And then did he understand why he had yet to shift.
His fated mate was in heat.
Now not just the moon, but also her mating call burned in his blood. ‘Twas fortunate for him the medicine man had left his pants and sword to lie in the front room of the building, or else he would not have had the presence of mind to grab them both as he followed her smell out of the entrance.
His nose led him to a cabin made of wood, less than half a rast from the place he had been kept. However, after he let himself in, though he could smell her everywhere, he could find her nowhere on the premises. Finally, he threw open a door that led into another below-ground room, much like the one he had been placed in himself.
And when he reached the bottom of the steps, he found his beautiful mate, writhing on a floor matted with black cushions, her hand moving in an out of her womanhood, her face twisted in the pain of sexual need.
Fenris had not thought it possible to be more aroused than he had been with the scent of his fated mate’s heat in his nose, but seeing her like this made his manhood jump and swell further to the point of pain, to the point that he could not be certain he could take her without going beserk in the way of a warrior in a blood-frenzy on the battlefield.
He breathed deep, seeking the warrior’s control over his wolf, even as it growled to be mated with the she-wolf he had crossed time to retrieve.
She stopped with a gasp, removing her hand from her puss, and staring at him in horror. A moment of shocked quiet, and then she began to shake her head back and forth, speaking her strange language, so rapidly he doubted he could have understood her even if he spoke her tongue.
It made little matter, though. The time for words had come and gone. He went to the cage and jerked at the door, only to find it locked.
He rattled it, expecting the wide-eyed she-wolf to bid him entry. But she merely stood there, shaking her head, even as he could see her heat, dripping from her womanhood, all but begging him enter.
He shook the cage door and demanded, “Open this door.”
But she backed into the corner, as far out of his reach as possible. Cursing, he once again untied the cord around his neck. He worked the lock with a hunter’s focus until the door swung open, finally allowing him entrance.
His she-wolf scrambled, talking loudly at him in her language, words he did not understand but could comprehend despite not knowing her tongue.
“You deny your need for me?”
She shook her head and said many more words, only one of which he recognized. “Rafe.”
“You would speak his name to me when I am your fated mate,” he snarled.
She looked up at the ceiling and then back at him, conveying through body language that she was exasperated before speaking more words.
“No,” he declared, cutting her off. “I am your fated mate. I would have us join now without delay and then return to my own land, once I have planted my seed within your belly.”
But when he made to step to her, she scrambled away from him, darting toward the open door in a move that so surprised him, she almost managed to escape.
However, his warrior’s reflexes did not fail him. He caught her by the waist just as she got one foot through the door and in two more moves, he had her on the floor, pinned beneath him.
A wolf with less control would have taken her right there, protests be damned. But his fated mate looked up at him with such fear in her eyes, it gave him pause. He bit back against his own need, shoving it down as if it were some little thing and not the beginning of the mating frenzy he knew it to be.
“Shhh,” he said, making the same soothing sound he used to calm his horse when she became agitated. “I will not hurt you, and I would not have you fear our mating.”
She gasped out a few more words, and he felt her arms moving between them, struggling to break free. But eventually she stopped squirming beneath him, and then she lie there, breathing hard.
Fenris smoothed a hand over her hair, waiting with a patience he did not feel for her to calm herself. And even when her breathing slowed to a regular pace, he continued to lie there, allowing the fear to fully evaporate, so she, too, could come to understand the obvious.
They were the only two un-shifted wolves in the village, they were fated mates, and they would be consummating their union before the sun dragged her chariot across the sky.