Andrei
Sage shakes her head. She doesn’t believe my words, and I don’t blame her.
She has been under the impression kids are out of the question, besides Jonah. Jonah is ours, and I am happy enough to have our boy, so I understood it would be shocking to hear that she is in heat.
Whether it can lead to pups is another story, but for now, we just have to wait it out, wait her heat out, and hope she doesn’t come out traumatized by it.
Sage begs me to take her to the hospital, her hands clutch her stomach as she writhes in pain in my lap. Her pain radiates through me and the bond, making me feel uncomfortable as I rub her back, trying to ease some of it.
Still, she just needs to wait it out until the next phase starts.
Sage whimpers, pressing her face into the crook of my neck, and I feel her body tense in my arms as her skin heats more.
Additionally, Donnie is becoming restless again. His need to mate her is as painful as her heat with the pheromones she is putting out. And to think she may go through this every few months unless it is a once-off.
I struggle to wrap my head around it, unable to believe it myself, yet I am positive it is her heat or Donnie would never have reacted like this. The entire process makes it difficult for me to think, as animalistic urges to hold her down and drive my cock into her, tug at me.
The only thing I truly hate about being a werewolf is the urge to force she-wolves and claim them when the heat starts. Just like Sage will want to when the second phase begins.
The animalistic side of us is taking over our consciousness and forces us to breed. Such a dangerous time for she-wolves.
They are at their most vulnerable while their mates and the unmated are at their most rabid. A blend of bliss and cruelty.
I know Sage is close to the second phase, her scent is so potent and addictively sweet that it makes my cock ache and throb beneath her. Her body seeks my skin like she wants to bleed into me as she subconsciously rocks her hips against me as she sits on my lap.
A growl rumbles through my chest, and I fist my hands as my claws slip out.
The pain makes me grit my teeth as I try to hold back from clawing at her. Donnie’s urges bleed into mine as it forces us to merge, two entities becoming one.
Her heat removes my basic human instincts, replaces mine with his primitive, uncontainable frenzied urges, and makes them my own as I try to think straight and remember who she is and what she is to me.
These instincts are our most dangerous because, with them, we no longer have control, no longer identify with anything or anyone, only regaining clarity between each wave she suffers.
Growing up as a rogue when mates found each other, I witnessed horrific things when a she-wolf had gone into heat. Their mates were not getting to them in time, nobody recognized the changes in their scents, and it quickly became a mating orgy or a slaughter or sometimes both.
Mates feel the overwhelming need to protect and claim what is theirs, while unmated heat-crazed wolves can’t unlock and detach themselves from recognizing or identifying what isn’t theirs to touch.
The she-wolves become subdued by instinct in the first stage, the heat incapacitates them so the male or mate can find them easily, and the second stage forces them to want to mate if they want the pain to stop.
They are mostly too far gone to recognize they aren’t mating with their mates and running off scents alone.
I’ve seen it before, and it is something everyone has come to live with, especially if you have been rogue. For example, if your mate went into heat, everyone knew there could be a chance the pup they carried isn’t yours.
It is ungrudgingly accepted and also forgiven because everyone knows we have no control in that state, and nor did the she-wolf. Yet that is also how many mates are killed, trying to protect what’s theirs.
Tragic, and that is why most packs ensure they equip all houses with industrial-strength shutters and have shots and antidotes for the unmated wolves to sedate them, but we found making our own most effective.
Werewolves are pack creatures and can’t function without a pack-like community, yet the danger of living in one can sometimes be horrific if unprepared.
The smell of my blood fills my nostrils as my claws slice through my palms.
Sage squirms on my lap, rubbing herself against me, and I feel Donnie fight the urge to give in, knowing once he does, we won’t be man or wolf, thus becoming the thing in between that gave humans the stories of monsters that howl at the moon and slaughtered their people.
We become the monsters the stories told them about, yet the only ones we terrorize are our mates, while she will be forced to endure the primitive side and ultimately be at my mercy until it ends.
Sage shudders against me, and I feel my eyes bleed black as Donnie’s soul bleeds into mine, consciously aware of what I’m doing, but completely unable to do anything but give in to the bliss and carnage that wraps into one.
There is something freeing about letting go of all restraint.
However, it is also terrifying.
Especially when you no longer have control of urges that we usually keep at bay.
Sage will be in duress and utterly reliant on me to stop anyone from getting in as she will no longer recognize them and me.
Her claws slip from her fingertips, digging into my sides as she rakes them down my skin.
The purr that leaves her and vibrates against my chest is more feral and half growl as my skin tears under the sharpness of her claws.
Her scent sends my brain into overdrive, frenzied almost, as I feel her slick coat my stomach and cock when she grinds herself against me, making me moan as my hard length runs between her slick folds.