Axel
I'm balls deep in Trixie, but I can't come. I've tried everything, from domination to trying different positions, but nothing's working. And if we can't come, we can't know for sure whether we're True Mates.
We've tried tilted missionary to get her G-Spot singing. I put her in my lap, but my legs went to sleep. We explored something she called "The Amazing Bee," where she was on top, squatting, which was supposed to allow me to explore different kinds of thrusts. But Trixie said my cock kept jamming against her cervix and it hurt, so she couldn't climax.
It might seem like no great loss. After all, we're friends, but we don't love each other. We're not even particularly attracted to each other. We're here because we got to talking about True Mates, and how you could know that person, the other half of your soul, your whole life and never know they were the mate to both your wolf and your human if you never fucked them.
I have my suspicions that you'd know it somehow, that you couldn't help but feel a soul-bond even without fucking, though you might not know what it was. But you don't get a True Mate mark until you come together—
literally. We were both bored and horny, so we thought we'd try it out and make sure. If it turned out we were True Mates, we'd laugh about how we were right in front of each other all along.
I've heard fucking a True Mate is like nothing else in the world, and seeing as how today we can't even reach the finish line, I'm guessing that once again, I've struck out.
It's entirely possible that I don't have a True Mate. In fact, most wolves don't. Just because I'm the Alpha of the Jacksonville pack, that doesn't increase my chances. I inherited the position, but it wasn't magically ordained. If the older wolf who challenged me soon after I took over had won, he'd be Alpha right now, not me. Fate doesn't choose a pack's Alpha.
Finally, Trixie shakes her head. "This isn't working, boss. I'm going to head home and finish up with my vibrator."
"You can use your fingers while you're here," I say, squeezing one of her little tits.
"Nah. I need a shower, anyway." She climbs off of me, and my cock lands with a sticky, wet splat against my belly. "Maybe next time."
"Sure," I say, peeling off the condom and tossing it. We both know there won't be a next time. Our connection doesn't work, just like none of the other empty lays have worked. Even when I come, it's a disappointment
when I look down and find my arm unmarked, when I feel nothing but the usual release of emptying my seed. No True Mate by my side to lead the pack. No heir to take over when I'm gone.
After Trixie leaves, I pick up my phone from the chipped-wood bedstand and see I missed a text. I'm thankful for the distraction—until I read the message. Then, my blood turns white-hot.
It's a text message from one of my wolf scouts, a guy named Tiva.
The vampires struck again. Six injuries. No fatalities… Yet.
I let out a low growl and snatch up my clothes. I've had just about enough of these fucking vampires. Taking a few deep breaths calms my anger. I direct a glare out the front window to my pack's wet little corner of Jacksonville, Florida.
A half-inch of water covers the road, as usual. At least we didn't get another mega-flood last night. Like many of Jacksonville's homes, the dull beige-colored house across from mine has boards over the windows. It's uninhabitable. Since my small house stands ever so slightly uphill from the houses across the street, I was spared from the last great flood. The house has miraculously remained intact despite the endless storms that hit this region, though I've spent way too damn many hours replacing shingles, shutters, and carpet.
I may be our pack's Alpha, but the bayous, swamps, and rivers are the land's true kings.
I squeeze my phone nearly to the breaking point, hoping to channel some of the rage I feel. "Fucking vampires," I mutter through gritted teeth. Fuck them and their bloodlust and lack of respect for our boundaries. Six of my pack are injured. At least no one died—this time.
Anger burns in my chest as I remember what happened the last time the bloodthirsty motherfuckers struck. My Second—the wolf with whom I'd explored, romped, and played with as a pup and adventured with as an adult—was killed.
Life without Phoenix has been brutal. We were always together— fighting side by side, covering each other's back, or whooping it up in the bars at night. Now he's dead.
They're going to fucking pay.
Fully intending to storm their lair and exact justice, I shove my phone in my pocket, don my clothes, and head out of the bedroom. On the way out, I shove my feet into my leather boots and kick open the screen door.
The door whacks against the side of the house with a satisfying crash, probably shaking loose a few ash-gray flakes of paint. One of these
days, I'm going to have to re-paint this house. But that day is not today. Today, I've got bloodsucker ass to kick.
"Temper, temper," comes a voice to my right.
I spin to find Ama, my new Second in Command, spread out on the porch swing, with one leg resting on the cushioned arm. Short and muscular, she reclines on the swing with her onyx hair draped over one shoulder and her left tit.
She lowers the supernatural gossip rag she's been reading and rests it in her lap. "Where you off to in such a fury?"
"The vamps struck again," I snap, fury pounding in my temples.
"Shit," Ama says, removing her leg from its comfortable position and sitting up straight. "Who's dead?" She finger-combs the long strands of hair still trailing along the front of her torso. It's a gesture she resorts to when she's agitated or nervous.
"No one, this time."
"And you're going to go kick some ass, am I right?" She stands and sashays toward me, placing her small hand on my bicep.
The too-familiar gesture makes me tense.
Ama regards me through thick black lashes. "Do you think it's wise to go off all half-cocked like this? Shouldn't you think things through?"
"You're probably right, but fuck that. I'm sick of
this shit." I step back from her, and her hand drifts to her side.