The Wolf's Mate

by Sophie Stern

  Even though it’s only been a few hours since we’ve been intimate together, we have so much catching up to do that I feel like for the next few weeks, possibly the next few months, sex is going to be incredible.

  Fantastic.

  “Take off your panties, beautiful,” he says, still rubbing himself. My eyes are glued to his cock. He strokes himself leisurely, like he’s got all the time in the world. He strokes himself like he can’t stand to look at me and not be touching himself. He strokes himself like there’s nothing more important than feeling his cock get harder and harder.

  I wiggle out of my panties and let them fall to the floor.

  “Touch yourself, baby. Let me watch you.”

  It’s been a long time since I touched myself for anyone. In the years I’ve been away from Wolfe City, I’ve masturbated many times, but I’ve never let anyone watch me. To me, this is almost more intimate than sex. It’s personal, raw. It requires a certain level of vulnerability and I know why Tony is asking me to do this.

  He wants to know if I’m all in.

  He wants to know if I can be brave.

  For Tony?

  I can be anything in the damn world. I can be his sweet mate or his slutty queen. I can be an angel or a devil. I can be anything he wants me to be.

  So I slide my hands over my body and down my thighs. Then I tease them up the inside of my legs until they’re resting over my pussy. I’m shaved and soft and my fingers feel good against my skin.

  “That’s it, beautiful. Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

  I close my eyes and start to rub my body. Slowly, carefully, I touch myself. I focus on the way it feels, on the way Tony turns me on so much, on the way I need him inside of me.

  It’s only a few minutes before I can’t stand it anymore, before I can’t handle him not touching me.

  “Please, Tony. I need you. I need you inside me, baby. I need you.” I open my eyes and reach for him, and he doesn’t hold back. Tony stops touching himself, steps forward, and cups my face in his hands.

  Then he kisses me hard and at the same time, he slides inside of me. I cry out at the intrusion, but he silences me with his tongue, kissing me as he begins to fuck me right on the kitchen counter, right in the center of the room.

  As Tony makes love to me, I realize it’s been a long time since I felt this passionate, this comfortable, this safe, and the reminder that he’s my mate floats through my head.

  “Mark me,” I say, running my hands down his back. He still has his shirt on, but it doesn’t matter. I run my nails tightly against him. Even through the fabric, he’ll be able to feel the pressure from me. “Bite me, Tony. Give me your mate mark.”

  I hold my wrist out, expecting him to bite me right away, but he shakes his head and kisses me again.

  “I’m traditional, baby. After our mating ceremony.”

  “What?” I whine, opening my eyes wide. Tony never marked me as his mate. In our pack, when two mates find each other, they bite each other. The wound heals quickly, almost instantly, but it leaves a scar that shows that shifter is mated. Most mates exchange mate marks as soon as they can, but some want to exchange vows first. Some want it to be extremely special and a huge celebration.

  “I love you, Dana,” he whispers, kissing my neck, kissing my cheek. “And I will arrange a wedding for you tomorrow if that’s what it takes for you to be mine.”

  “You want to marry me?” I ask him. “After everything?”

  “My life is nothing without you, Dana. Nothing. We both messed up, but let’s not make the same mistakes. Let’s make this happen. Let’s do it, baby. Marry me. Let me mark you so the whole damn world knows you’re mine.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “A million times yes.”

  He kisses me again and as Tony touches me, he slides his hand between us and rubs my clit. The friction is too much and I know that if he keeps this up, I’m not going to be able to do anything but come for him. Soon my thoughts begin to blur and he murmurs softly.

  “Come on, baby. Come for me, sweetheart. Come.”

  I grip his hair and then I come. I fly. I soar. I come undone and Tony follows. He whispers my name as he comes, too, and then he just holds me. He whispers sweet nothings and promises we’ll be together forever, and the beautiful thing is that I believe him.

  After everything, I believe him, and I trust him, and I know that this time, we won’t make the same mistakes.

  This time we’re going to get it right.

  This time, everything is going to be okay.

  I’ve found my mate and me and Tony? We’re forever.

  Epilogue

  Dana

  One Month Later

  It’s a bright, sunny day and everyone we know is here. Rebecca and Amy stand beside me in beautiful blue gowns and Adam and Brandon are next to Tony. They’re smiling as they watch Tony and me, but I barely notice.

  Nope, today I only have eyes for my mate.

  I only have eyes for the one man who has given me everything.

  My father and mother are sitting in the first row of guests and they both have these huge smiles on their faces. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say they’re excited. Aunt Heather and Uncle Herb are next to them, which is appropriate since Heather is the one who got me to come back to Wolfe City in the first place. Without that little nudge, who knows if I ever would have come back on my own?

  My dad is out of the hospital and while he still has to take things easy, he’s getting better every day. We waited until he was discharged and a little bit stronger to hold the wedding ceremony. I wanted him to be able to walk me down the aisle, so Tony and I decided that waiting an extra month for our mate marks wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  Tony and I should have been married a long time ago. We should have figured things out, should have fought for each other, should have done everything but what we did.

  We messed up, but we’ve been given something not everyone gets: a second chance at love. We’ve been given a second chance to make things right and this time, we’re going to make it work. We’re going to make it last.

  Tonight, after our wedding ceremony, Tony is going to mark me as his mate. He’s going to bite me and I’m going to bite him and we’re going to become one. We’re going to seal our future as mates because that’s what we are. We’re meant to be together, meant to grow together, meant to love together.

  “Are you ready?” He whispers.

  “I’m ready.”

  Tony takes my hands in his and I take a deep breath.

  It’s time for forever.

  THE END

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  Author

  Sophie Stern loves cowboys, soldiers, and shifters. When she’s not busy writing, she’s got her nose buried in a book. Sophie lives with her husband and two little boys who are always keeping her on her toes.

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  Honeypot Darlings

  Want more shifters?

  I have another series called Honeypot Darlings featuring the three Blair brothers.

  Wyatt, Carter, and Micah are all different in their own ways, but they each share one very important similarity: they’re all bear shifters!

  In The Bear’s Virgin Darling, Hope moves to Honeypot for a fresh start. She doesn’t expect anything, but a paycheck. Then she meets Wyatt and everything changes.

  Here you can read the first three chapters of this book for free! If you pre
fer to jump right into the novel, you can get your own copy on Amazon here.

  ***

  Chapter 1

  Hope

  Hope.

  That’s my name.

  My parents struggled for years to have a baby and then finally, they had me. They named me Hope to remind themselves that things can always get better. No matter how tough life gets, there’s always a way to make things better.

  Always.

  It doesn’t matter if you’re old or young or skilled or uneducated. No matter what you’re going through, you can get through it.

  As I grip the steering wheel of my beat-up Saturn so hard I think my hands might bleed, their words run through my mind.

  “Sorry, Mama,” I whisper. “There’s no hope this time.”

  The highway is empty and I’ve been driving for hours. I still have at least two to go until I reach beautiful, isolated, far-from-home Honeypot, Colorado.

  I don’t know a damn thing about the town except that it’s a 12-hour drive from my rink-a-dink hometown in Missouri and that I have a job interview with some ranch.

  Like I know anything about ranching.

  That doesn’t matter though. I learned this great skill in drama class called “fake it ‘til you make it,” and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  Holbrook can kiss my ass and so can Jacob Clint. Did he really think I wouldn’t find out he was fucking my best friend?

  Did she?

  It’s been a month since I caught them fooling around, but the pain hasn’t dimmed. It took me a whole month to sell my stuff, give my landlord ample notice I was leaving, and set up this damn job interview.

  I applied for a few gigs closer to home, but when I saw the posting for a ranch hand in Colorado, I couldn’t resist applying. I’m still shocked they liked my application. I’m still shocked they called me.

  Granted, I could show up tomorrow and they might tell me to get lost, but it’s something new, something different, something brave.

  It’s something to keep my mind off how badly my heart hurts.

  I hope Jacob and Margaret are very happy together in hell.

  I press the gas pedal a little bit harder.

  I can’t wait to get to Nowhere, Colorado. Not too much further now. I blast my music and stare out the window, driving with one hand down the highway. My car is loaded with my life’s belongings. I sure as hell hope I get the job because if I don’t, I’m going to be stuck in Colorado with no house, no job, and no boyfriend.

  Soon my stomach growls and I stop for a quick burger at a fast food place just off the highway. The only two things at the exit are a gas station and a fast food chain, so I eat my run-of-the-mill burger in silence, stretch my legs, and fill up the tank. My thoughts alternate between being horrified Jacob was the best I could do and being horrified that I won’t get the job.

  I need the job.

  Unfortunately, my thoughts are so focused that I don’t realize when the speed limit drops from 75 to 55 just outside of Honeypot. The sirens in the rearview mirror give me the notice and I growl in frustration as I pull over.

  Dammit.

  A ticket is not what I need right now. I barely have enough money saved for a hotel room while I’m in Honeypot. If I don’t get the job, or if I have a bunch of unexpected expenses, I will definitely be living out of my car.

  This is a problem because my car is full of clothes, books, and trinkets I couldn’t leave behind.

  Taking a deep breath, I place my hands on the steering wheel and wait for the officer to run my plates. I’ve never had a ticket before, but I’ve been pulled over, and I remember the cop explaining that he had to call in the license plate before he even came to speak with me.

  After a few minutes, my heart finally begins to slow, and I realize that this was just an honest mistake. Besides, getting a ticket isn’t the worst thing that could happen to a girl like me. By the time the officer gets out of his car and walks toward mine, I’ve convinced myself that I’ll handle this like an adult.

  I definitely will not cry in front of this stranger. Maybe I’ve been through a lot, but crying in front of strangers is definitely a hard limit for me. Unfortunately, as I begin to roll my window down – yes, my car is so old that I have to roll the window down – I catch a glimpse of the cop and he’s no tubby police officer.

  No, this guy is tall, cut, and fit to be tied.

  Dammit.

  My mouth goes dry when he approaches and I’m very aware of the fact that I’ve been in a car all day and probably smell like stale French fries.

  “Hello, ma’am,” the officer greets me, standing outside my window. He places one hand on top of my car and peers in the window at me. I swallow loudly as I stare at his aviators.

  He’s so tall he almost has to bend in half to peek into my car. Suddenly, I wish I was wearing a low-cut shirt to give him a show. He smiles brightly, his perfectly white teeth shining in the evening sunset. And oh, is he filling out that uniform in all the right places.

  “Fuck me,” I say out loud, and I immediately cover my mouth with my hand and start shaking my head. Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit. I did not mean to say that out loud. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, and look away, completely embarrassed. I can’t believe I just said that to a stranger.

  To my surprise, the police officer doesn’t get upset, though. He just chuckles.

  “New to the area?” He says, and I nod, but don’t say anything. “Well, do you know why I pulled you over?”

  This is the part where I feign innocence. This is the part where I cry damsel, where I say that I just got out of a bad relationship and I’m trying to get a fresh start. This is the part where I say I didn’t know any better, where I missed the sign.

  Only when he lowers his glasses and I see his deep brown eyes, I know I can’t lie to this cop.

  Something tells me he’ll know whether I’m telling the truth or not.

  Something tells me he doesn’t do lies.

  “I was speeding,” I blurt out, and again, cover my mouth. What is with my bluntness around this guy?

  He nods, and asks for my registration and driver’s license. I hand both over to him, cringing the entire time. He flips over my license and eyes my registration, then he asks me the question I’ve been dreading.

  “And where are you headed, ma’am?”

  I point to the exit that’s just up ahead, number 234.

  “Honeypot,” I say. “I have a job interview tomorrow.”

  “Is that so, miss?” He looks surprised, and I wonder why. I’m guessing not too many new people come to Honeypot. It’s basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense forests. The last exit was about ten miles back, so I’d say it’s pretty isolated.

  “It’s not full of murderers, is it?” I ask him on a whim, wondering what secrets I’ll discover in the tiny town. “Because if you say it is, I’ll turn right on back around.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “No murderers. No need to worry about that. Now, you just hold tight.” He heads back to his car and does something. I sit still, not bothering to play with my phone or pretend to listen to music. I don’t have anyone to text and I doubt I get cell service out here, anyway.

  Lucky for me, dating Jacob really ruined my friendships, so I don’t have anyone to care that I’m gone. There’s no one to miss me, no one to call. Everyone hated him and when I was with him, I became this unrecognizable bitch. It was my own fault, but the truth still hurts.

  Finally, the officer returns and gives me a ticket. He looks at me, all business, and tells me to slow down.

  “Yeah,” I say, taking it glumly. I shove it in my glove compartment, along with my registration. My license goes back in my wallet. “I’ll do that.”

  “Best of luck in Honeypot,” he says, trying to be friendly. I can tell he’s the kind of cop who takes pride in his work, who doesn’t give out tickets just to be mean. Still, it’s annoying he chose me to target for his ticket-writing today.

&nbs
p; “Yeah. Thanks. I hear the Blair Ranch is beautiful,” I say, trying my best to stay calm. Don’t cry, Hope. Don’t think about how much this ticket is going to cost you, Hope. “Hopefully it’ll be everything it’s rumored to be.”

  “The Blair Ranch?” He cocks his head, suddenly interested. His body is turned, like he’s going to walk back to his car, but he pauses, waiting to hear more.

  “Yeah, I have an interview there tomorrow,” I say. I try not to meet his eyes. Those dark brown, beautiful, gorgeous, could-get-lost-in-them eyes are just too much. This guy must be drowning in pussy because he’s seriously hot. “I’m hoping I’ll get it,” I add, motioning toward the back of my car. “Obviously.”

  He looks in the backseat, seemingly noticing the boxes for the first time.

  “Is that so?” He says. I can’t tell if he’s curious, amused, or annoyed. This guy is completely unreadable to me, which is fine. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m only looking for a job and possibly a new vibrator if this town has a sex store, which I’m guessing it doesn’t, based on its current population size.

  “Yeah, well, who knows how many people they interviewed?” I shrug. I really shouldn’t get my hopes up. “But the guy wanted to see me in person, so I guess that’s good, right?”

  Why the hell am I talking so much? This poor cop doesn’t need to hear my life story or how nervous I am about the interview.

  “Do you know Mr. Blair?” I ask. I’ve only ever talked with the guy through email. He could be a cranky old codger for all I know.

  The cop nods. “I know him,” he says. “Wyatt is a good man.”

  “No, my interview isn’t with Wyatt. It’s with Carter,” I say, remembering the unique name. Carter Blair. I wonder what Carter is like. Maybe he’ll be one of those friendly old guys who wants to tell me stories about the war or who just wants someone to read him the newspaper at breakfast. There’s always the chance he’ll be an asshole, old and crabby, but I’m trying to keep my hopes up as much as possible.