by Amanda Milo
I make a face. “Hang on. Squids, GoPros, and you have an affinity for corny… is this going to end in a painful play on ‘quid pro quo?’”
His eyes shoot wide. “Susan…” He could not sound more delighted with me and his face breaks into the goofiest smile. “You nailed the punchline!”
Wincing for him, I laugh. “Lucan, no—we need to look into getting you help for these or something!”
But Lucan isn’t bothered. In fact, his lips tip into an entirely different sort of grin, morphing from adorable to super sexy in the space of a heartbeat.
“Maybe…” I bite my lip, battling shyness. “Do you think we can have sex?” I want him. But it’s been a while for me—so long, I thought something was broken. It turns out all of my parts are still operational; it seems I only get interested in a specific sort of man now, and the prospect of a few stolen moments with him has my head swimming with excitement. “Do you want to?”
His gaze collides with mine and I read a strong YES that he doesn’t give voice to. His body heat has ratcheted up; he clears his throat, his eyes lowering, but only as far as my lips.
Without no preamble, he asks very seriously, “Are you opposed to getting married?”
My breath catches. “Marriage,” I clear my throat on the word, it comes out so squeaky. “You weren’t kidding when you said werewolves take relationships seriously. That’s...” It’s one thing to have sex with no promises. It’s another to make vows and put all your faith into the other person not abusing your trust.
But this is Lucan, my heart stubbornly points out. He’s not a human man, who has the luxury of being fickle. He’s a werewolf. A werewolf who wants you for forever—and you want him too.
Lucan lowers himself until he’s kneeling on one knee. “Susan? Will you marry me?”
I hear Finn’s easy Irish drawl in my head next: Swayt hart, don’t be a cunt about this. Say yes!
If you’d told me a few months ago that I'd be considering getting married again, I’d have scoffed. And my inner self would have screamed, “Are you stupid?”
After all, I know better.
I was schooled to detest the word marriage by a man who twisted all the vows we made to each other, once upon a time. I've heard every excuse. Every lie. Every broken promise.
Before Lucan, I would have said I have no trust left. Because everything I had was crushed to death. Systematically and completely and horribly.
But Lucan? Bone-deep, I believe he’d never hurt me on purpose. And with every fiber of his being, he’s loyal. I believe that. I know it. He would never betray me, because that would be like betraying himself.
Likely because of my silence, he’s searching my eyes, such a rare thing. “I don’t want to scare you,” he says, “but yes. Marriage. See, I’m… you’re my…” His words trail off strangely, and his gaze turns distant and… aggravated. His jaw works and his neck muscles swell. “Crap.”
I blink at him. “Excuse me?”
“I’m going to beat Finn’s face in.”
“What?”
Lucan’s lips are peeled back, and his glossy cuspids are growing very prominent. “He never gave me permission to tell you—son of a mangy coyote!”
Lucan, werewolf-cursing? I blink again. “Should I try to guess it?”
He reaches into his back pocket and draws out his cell phone. “I want the right to tell you. I need to call Finn. Again.”
When Finn answers, Lucan’s eyes meet mine, causing a little zip of thrill to buzz through me. “I need you to give me permission to tell her, you scut.”
I squint. From what I’ve gathered at the pub, ‘scut’ is the affectionate form of ‘jackass’ in Ireland. Either that, or my fellow employees are really mean to each other.
“And how are the girls doing?” Lucan adds so naturally, no prompting from me, that right in this second, I know I love this man.
Finn relays that they’re playing, and Maggie, the one most likely to need me, is doing fine and hasn’t asked for me yet. He also shares that should she get anxious, he’s fairly sure he can buy us time by busting out ice cream because she’s been telling Liam about all her favorite flavors.
Then Finn gives Lucan what he wants—or needs, it seems—to hear. “Thank you,” Lucan growls into the phone. And without a goodbye, he peels the device away from his ear, thumb-stomping the screen to cut the call before he crams the phone back into his pocket. “Susan,” he says, his gaze making it to my eyes for a millisecond before being forced down to maybe the level of my nose due to his extreme nerves. “You’re my ahhnehm kahrrreh,” he declares, the last part of his announcement purred in pure Irish.
My knees go weak. “I don’t know what that is, but please say it again.”
Lucan’s lips tug up in a shy smirk. But he indulges me. “My ahhnehm kahrrreh. You are my soulmate. My other half. My ideal mate for life.” His eyes lock on mine. “I know they say humans don’t sense mates the same way as werewolves, but I know I’m yours. And that means you’re mine. You’re my soulmate, Susan.”
I squeeze my hands together and outwardly keep calm—despite his words setting off a warm pulse in my lower belly. “How do you know? How do you know for sure?”
His eyes flick down to my clenched hands. “Because werewolves don’t make mistakes when it comes to mates. At first, I thought I was crazy, because I thought you and Finn belonged together, which meant you couldn’t be for me and I would never be for you. I thought I was seeking you out because you were the closest thing I had to an alpha—but that wasn’t it. It was just you.” His thumb runs along his lower lip. It’s a mysteriously masculine maneuver, for some reason. His nostrils flare, and he drops his hand, his jaw clenching before he admits in a voice like gravel, “I’ve just wanted you.”
I smile at him goofily as my heart starts to sing. “I want you too, Lucan.” Then I frown. “About Finn. Why has he spent all this time trying to—to woo me? He’s known me for a while. He couldn’t tell we aren’t meant for each other?”
Lucan tips his head, his strong neck muscles tightening briefly with the movement, distracting me. “Shifters are different than werewolves. He may not be able to sense his anamchara.” His gaze flicks to mine before it jerks to the floor between our feet. “The point is, I will cherish you and love you and want the best for you like no one else ever has before.” He searches my collarbones with his gaze. “You’re beginning to reek of fear. Are you panicking?”
“No.”
His eyes jump to mine, hope brimming in their butterscotch depths. But then he looks back down at my hands—no longer fists but my tightly wringing hands—pointedly. “Then what are you scared of?”
“If I’m wrong,” I whisper. My eyes sting but I blink them clear with determination. “I really care about you, and you really are so perfect it’s scary, but if you screw me over…”
“I won’t.” His eyes are glued to mine. “I might hurt your feelings by accident, but I’m not Jillian.”
“Julién,” I correct, biting my lip, trying not to smile.
He notices, and his gaze warms. “Whatever,” he says. “Susan, you can believe me.” His chest expands. “You have my commitment for the rest of our lifespan.”
This man uttering ‘commitment’ in relation to me? My heart thumps faster. I didn’t think he could get any more attractive, but he’s really proving that he can.
His eyes drop. “You don’t have to be committed back. You’re not trapped.” He tips his head a little guiltily. “Should you start dating other people, your dates might develop a strong habit of disappearing though.”
Oddly enough, the way he delivers it doesn’t come across as threatening. I feel a glow happening in my middle. And in my chest, right in my heart. “They’ll start disappearing if they get near your anamchara?”
His nod is contrite. “They will mysteriously go missing if they go near my anamchara.”
I close the distance between us. “Well if there’s something I can do to preve
nt you from committing abductions in my honor, I guess I should do it.”
Lucan stops breathing.
I move, circling him. Enjoying the way he tenses but holds very still. I ask the strong line of his back, “What are your feelings in regards to… consummating now?”
I get the term ravish in a way I never have before. How it can be applied in an adoringly hungry way. At the moment, I feel like it's all I can do not to shove Deek into a chair, climb into his lap, and ravish the heck out of him.
His body shoots through with even more tension. He turns his head just far enough to eye my throat, looking reluctant to answer me, owing to a deep sense of caution, no doubt. “A mating ceremony, held before the pack—a marriage, essentially—always came first when I imagined consummation with you. But…” He faces forward again, straightening his shoulders. “I trust you, Susan.”
I feel myself go a little melty that I’m not the one vulnerable in this. We both are. Lucan is taking the idea of this as serious as I could ever want him to.
I finish my revolution around him, stopping in front of him. “And I trust you.”
He dives for me—shocking the absolute crap out of me.
I make a high pitched, startled noise. He catches me up in his arms, bumping our noses inelegantly—but his suddenly starved kiss isn’t unwelcome. Neither are his adoringly roving hands. He lets them roam to the point that my thigh is trying to climb up his, before he slides his big hands to my elbows, cupping them, catching them, holding me fast.
He pulls back, tremendous tension marring his brow, making him look even sexier. “I don’t know what to do, Susan.” He looks almost apologetic. His eyes dart over my face. “But if you tell me, I’ll listen.”
I smile to let him know he has nothing to feel regret for. “Your ability to listen is one of your best qualities. So is your willingness to take orders.” I let my gaze scan over him, so openly suggestive that his frame stiffens. “Get undressed.”
As a man who strips frequently to Change forms, he’s an expert at ripping his clothing off. In the time it normally takes me just to top off my mug of morning coffee, he’s standing before me, completely naked.
“I’m impressed,” I tell him.
He glances down at his already swollen shaft. “Thanks.”
I laugh.
His lips quirk, and his eyes raise to the level of mine, gazing at me expectantly. “Your turn, Susan.”
I stop laughing.
He’s on me in an instant, eager hands, rugged and strong, helping me pull my tunic over my head.
My leggings quickly follow, making the slide down my legs before my shoes and socks. Of course this results in that super awkward dance where your naked thighs, knees, and calves slide past one another as you jerk and kick your feet which are stuck together and gargantuan on account of your leggings being wrapped around your shoes and still clogged with your socks.
Not content to let me struggle alone, Lucan drops down to help free me, and when I risk an embarrassed glance at him, I catch his eyes glued not on my feet as his hands work my clothing, but aimed higher—smack at the apex of my thighs. He jerks his gaze away like he’s been scolded when he realizes I’m watching him. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, my face hot, but my body feeling amazing. With him so pointedly not looking at me, I feel comfortable looking at his lap—and it’s obvious that he likes what he’s seen.
Likes it a lot.
Still, I feel like an idiot trapped in my clothes. “Hang on, I think the only way I’m getting free is if we pull these back up.”
“Affirmative. Can’t even get to your shoelaces to pop you free that way.”
Smiling, I bend down and peel my leggings over and off of the toes of my shoes, and as I do, Lucan helpfully hooks his fingers into the heel of my sneaker, then catches one of my hands to plant it on his shoulder as support, and tugs my shoe off.
“This is not like the movies,” he shares conversationally.
“Oh, it never is,” I assure him.
Then I’m standing bare before him, as naked as he is, with his focus zeroed in on my pubic area like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get to touch it soon.
It makes me feel good.
My heart slams hard, probably seconds from pounding its way out of my ribs. And Lucan can hear it—I know because he cocks his head, his eyes sliding to the left side of my chest. His gaze raises to mine, vulnerable and sweet and understanding and desirous all at once.
Suddenly, he advances on me, making me gasp as he catches me by my hips and drags me against him. “Susan,” he growls brokenly into my hair. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this. You.”
I melt for him.
His hands cup my butt and upper thighs, gripping me, kneading, making my insides almost catch fire, and with his face buried in my neck, clutching me to him this way, needing me so openly—he makes me feel like I’m his everything.
And I love it.
I love… him. I really do. I can’t help the happy chuckle that hits me as I hold his jaw.
Lucan pulls back. He sends a nonplussed look in the vicinity of my face, his lips parted slightly, allowing for his rapidly panted breaths. “I don’t want to know why you’re laughing, do I?”
I scrunch my nose. “Sorry, it’s not you—what you’re doing, I mean. It’s perfect. You are perfect. My thoughts are just speeding a mile a minute up here,” I share, tapping the side of my head.
Lucan’s gaze turns tender and surprisingly direct. “Will you tell me what to do to quiet things up there? What,” he asks on a nervous breath, “what can I do to drive you wild?”
It’s hard to tell him. It’s hard to look him in the eyes and describe what I want him to do to me. So hard that I chicken out. I’m shaking my head. “Let me touch you,” I say instead. “Take me to a bed?”
Looking a little stunned, Lucan leads me to a bedroom that smells like spring. He flips on the lights. The bed looks freshly made, with sprigs of evergreen branches on the two smallest pillows.
Someone has freshened up this place. I think of Finn orchestrating the pizza and it’s not a giant leap to assume he had a hand in even this detail. He’s weirdly helpful for a guy who was working pretty darn hard to get me to agree to a date with him before his friend stole every scrap of my attention.
Just like he’s stealing it now. I notice nothing else about the room because I’m drawn to Lucan. I’ve seen him in various states of undress before, but keeping decent has always been a priority for him. Prior to this moment, I felt a flash of guilt for even thinking of looking. Not now. With no kids around and with his permission, I’m dying to look. His physique is incredible, fit and mature and undeniably rugged. And although he’s modest, Lucan’s not shy; he’s well used to nudity and feels no shame about his well-proportioned body.
I’m a little less comfortable with being naked in front of him, but I’m also feeling uncharacteristically sexy. I think my courage is due to the way Lucan can’t stop touching me.
His hand rides at the small of my back, urging me to climb on the bed. I do, and he palms my ass—and then his fingers slide right along the curve of my fanny until he’s slipping his fingers between my legs, popping past the creamy slickness gathering for him. He leans down close enough I can feel his body heat over me, and I hear him inhale, deep.
“Lucan!” I gasp, my muscles locking up, my back arching like my body is waving a big climb on, cowboy flag at him.
I guess that’s exactly what it’s doing. It’s so clear that even Lucan takes it as a signal.
He mounts the bed behind me, knees coming to rest outside of mine. When his hands grasp my hips, I moan and brace myself on my elbows, fisting the bedding and turning to look at him over my shoulder.
My attention is too direct for him.
He jerks his gaze away from me, still breathing hard, still holding me at my hips, but seeming unable to continue.
I want to be able to look at him though. F
or this first time, I want to see him. I just have to get him comfortable enough to relax his submissive instincts.
I roll over, thrilling in the fact that it takes some effort on my part because Lucan doesn’t at first release my hips.
I love the tight way his hands are gripping me.
But when he sees what I want, he lets go and edges back, grabbing my leg and drawing it over his hips so that I’m spread in front of him, for him.
And here he stops, chest heaving, eyes pinned to my throat.
Smiling, sitting up a little, I reach out and pet down his chest. “You have a beautiful body,” I tell him.
His eyes squeeze shut, and his jawbones… At first, I think that he’s clenching his jaw, but I quickly realize that he’s struggling not to shift. Fur starts peppering his face as his bones alter, lengthening then shrinking.
“Lucan?” I ask hesitantly.
“I’m… here,” he pants, his gaze flickering to mine, showing me that his eyes have gone just a bit wild, as in the arooo! arrrooo! way.
I study his face, before my gaze dips to his raging erection. “Um, want me to keep touching you, or stop?”
His cock jumps. He jerks his head to the side, teeth bared—and now he has fangs. “Please don’t stop.”
“I don’t want to put more pressure on you, but if you turn into a wolf, this show is over.”
He nods. “I’m super excited for you. Nervous too. Never been this much of both at once before,” he admits.
“Okay,” I tell him, charmed. “I get that.” I like that. If possible, I’m getting more turned on than before. Ever so sweetly, I drag my fingernails down the flickering skin of his taut belly. Hard edges of muscle meet my hand, exciting me enough to sit up and lean in to lick his delicious abdominal slabs.
Lucan groans.
His penis is large, thick like the rest of him, curved slightly, with a vein that throbs so hard and so attractively it deserves its own Instagram account. His shaft matches his body color until his glans, which is cherry red, worthy to star in XXX films, and possesses a deeply flared corona. It’s much more pronounced than I’m used to, and my insides flutter as I imagine how he’ll feel inside me. Just thinking about it has me exhaling shakily, right over his crown.