ook the scarf, trying to see past the gift to any hint of deception in his eyes. But all I saw was concern.
“Oliver’s just young,” Derek said softly, sitting beside me. “He doesn’t understand that the cream incident could have killed him.
He doesn’t remember how close we came to losing him that day.”
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I traced my fingers over a small hospital bracelet from one of Oliver’s many childhood emergencies. “Sometimes I think he hates
me for trying to keep him safe.”
“He doesn’t hate you.” Derek wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “He loves you very much. He just doesn’t like the
restrictions. But he’ll understand when he’s older.”
He picked up one of Oliver’s baby photos. “Look how far he’s come. Remember how weak he was when he was born? His health has improved so much. Maybe we can afford to be a little less strict now.”
His words made sense. His voice soothed something raw deep inside me, and as if on cue, Derek leaned in, and his lips found mine–first gentle, then insistent. Our connection was primal, a call from our inner wolves that wouldn’t be denied.
Before long, the tender kisses intensified into a heated need that neither of us could resist. In the dim light of the room, he ran his hands over my bare shoulders, igniting a trail of fire along my skin. I pressed against him as he slid his strong hands down my back, each touch both a promise and a plea. With deliberate passion, I led him to the edge of the bed, where the world narrowed to
just our entwined bodies and the raw urgency of our desire.
Our clothes became obstacles quickly discarded, pooling carelessly on the rug as we bared all. I could feel every rise and fall of his
breathing as his lips traced a path along my neck. The heat between us built rapidly–his kisses deepened, and soon our hands were exploring every curve, every secret place, with bold, unwavering intent. I felt the slick heat of arousal as he pressed himself
closer, each of his thrusts and caresses made Ava and I let out moans of pleasure together.
Our bodies rhythmically moved together, his steady thrusts, the friction of skin against skin and the mingling of our breaths. I
gasped and moaned as the rhythm of our union increased, each movement drowning me deeper in sensual stimulation. Every
explicit claim he made, every intimate whisper, sent shivers throughout my body.
Derek’s lips found mine, gentle at first, then more insistent. Our wolves recognized each other, that primal connection that had
brought us together in the first place.
When I woke up later, the bed beside me was empty. But the house smelled of cooking, and I could hear Derek moving around in
the kitchen.
I stretched, feeling more relaxed than I had in days. Maybe Derek was right. Maybe I needed to loosen up a little with Oliver.
The dining room table was set when I came downstairs, a full meal laid out. Derek had even cleaned up the living room.
This was the mate I knew. The one who took care of me. Who loved me.
I decided then to make a real change. This weekend, I would take Oliver on a picnic. Just the two of us. No rules, no restrictions –
just mother and son time.
I grabbed my phone as I tried to tell Derek through the mind link about my weekend plans. Just then I saw a message on my
phone from my best friend Isabel.
A video message. Filmed just an hour ago at the luxury boutique downtown.
My heart stopped as I watched:
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Rachel is admiring two designer bags. Oliver is at her side, pulling out a familiar bank card–Black Card, mine.
“I’ll get them for you, Rachel!” His voice was eager, happy – the way he used to sound with me.
The card he swiped? Mine. Twenty thousand dollars, gone in an instant.
The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering on the table.
