(Featured in Werewolf)
Parker Westwood is well on her way to qualifying for the US woman's gymnastics team. Determined to be on that podium in red white and blue with a gold medal around her neck. She could do it too but the Phoenix Basin pack has...
They never talk about the tedium. War movies and action novels only tell the exciting parts. They don't talk about the hours of nerve racking boredom. It is possible to be unimaginably harried while doing nothing. Hurry up and wait. Everyone was in a rush to get as prepared at possible without knowing the when of it. We were as ready as we were going to get.
The run was more fun than I was expecting, it helped for a while. Sebastian stayed close to our side as we ran through the trees. It was rushed and I didn't get to play as much as I wanted but Gem took her pleasures when she could.
She jumped and leaped until Sebastian nipped at her heals hurrying her along. We could feel his anxiety and didn't push too hard. Any other time he would have played too but the amount of stress and worry outweighed the fun. I didn't mind. I'd contributed, for a few short hours I was a part of the team and then we went back to waiting.
It had been two days. Two days of excruciating idleness. I wasn't built for it. Bash was much better at it, being a soldier of many wars and an Alpha. He didn't show it during the day but at night in his bed I felt his need for action. His impatience was evident in his grip as we lost ourselves in each other. He was rough just short of pain but I relished in it.
He kept distant from me at first afraid he couldn't be gentle so I tackled him to the floor of our bedroom and destroyed what was likely an irreplaceable and expensive suit. I couldn't be gentle either.
There was an impressive dent in Bash's immaculate hard wood floor to prove it. And gold eyes streaked with silver informed me I'd accomplished breaking his hard fought control. I was done tiptoeing through life worried that one little thing might set me off. I was mated to Bash now. He deserved all of me, no reservations.
We were both going to have bruises but I loved it. It was wolf play, with clawed fingernails and sharp teeth. When I bit his chest just below his nipple where I knew he was ticklish and lapped at the blood I was marking him in a different way; a way that called to him as his mate.
Bash responded by shredding what was left of our clothes into tiny strips and slammed me against the window almost shattering it. It supported me but only just.
The next morning we woke knotted up in bloody and slashed sheets on the floor. Bash had his arms wrapped around my thigh using my knee as a pillow. My face was burrowed into the soft vulnerable underside of his stomach, my hair a tousled mess of curls draped over his groin. I could feel the thick dark patch of his happy trail tug on my eyelashes when I stirred. We were wrapped around each other like a yin and yang symbol.
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The bed was sloped at an angled, one of the legs had been snapped off and embedded in the wall four feet off the ground on the other side of the room. Mattress fluff, bits of plaster and down goose feathers made it look like it had snowed inside. A deflated and pathetic pillow with only half its stuffing was left on the floor, the silk case flat on one side and cotton trailing out the end.
