Chapter 97 ROGUE'S CLAIM
Chapter 97 ROGUE'S CLAIM
ROGUE'S CLAIM
LILA’S POV
The forest is darker than I imagined, the kind of dark that swallows sound and light. My backpack digs into my shoulders, heavy with the few clothes and cash I grabbed before slipping out my bedroom window three nights ago. Eighteen years under my parents’ strict rules, church every Sunday, no boys, no parties, curfew at nine even in senior year, and I finally snapped. I hitchhiked as far as the money allowed, then started walking, drawn to these woods by some stupid romantic notion of freedom.
Now, freedom feels like terror.
Branches snag my jeans, the roots trip me in the moonlight filtering through the canopy. My phone died yesterday, no signal anyway. I’m lost, hungry, and the howls I’ve been hearing for hours are getting closer.
I freeze at a low growl ahead. Yellow eyes gleam between trees, too many. Wolves. Real ones, bigger than any I’ve seen in zoos, circling me slowly.
My heart slams against my ribs. I back up, my hands out. “Nice puppies… stay…”
One lunges. I scream, stumbling. More growls, snarls now. They close in, their teeth bared.
Then a roar splits the night, deeper, and furious. A massive black wolf bursts from the shadows, slamming into the nearest attacker. Chaos erupts, fur flying, yelps, the sickening crunch of bones.
The black wolf fights like a demon, fast, brutal, tearing into the pack with jaws and claws. Blood scents the air, metallic and thick. The attackers scatter, whining, leaving three bodies behind.
The black wolf shifts, his bones cracking, his fur receding, until a man stands there. Naked. Massive.
He’s tall, easily six-five, body carved from muscle and scars, broad chest dusted with dark hair, abs ridged, thighs thick as tree trunks. Long black hair falls wild around his shoulders, his beard framing a hard jaw. His eyes are gold, glowing faintly in the dark. Tattoos cover his arms and torso, tribal marks, wolves, symbols I don’t understand.
He breathes hard, blood streaking his skin, but his gaze locks on me.
I should run. But my legs won’t move.
He stalks closer, his nostrils flaring. “Human,” he growls, his voice gravel and smoke. “What the fuck are you doing in my territory?”
I back up until a tree stops me. “I—I got lost. Please don’t hurt me.”
His eyes narrow, scenting the air again. Something shifts in his expression, hunger, raw and primal.
“You’re bleeding,” he says, nodding to my scraped knee from the fall.
I glance down. It was a minor cut, but blood trickles.
He’s in front of me in a blink, kneeling, his large hand gripping my calf gently. His touch is hot, callused. He inhales near the scrape, then licks it once, long, deliberate. The sting fades instantly.
I gasp, heat flooding me. “What are you?”
He stands slowly, towering. “Werewolf. Rogue.” His eyes rake over me, my torn jeans, tight t-shirt clinging from sweat, and my messy brown hair. “And you… your scent…”
He steps closer, crowding me against the tree. His naked body radiates heat; his cock—half-hard, thick even soft, brushes my thigh.
I should be terrified. But my body reacts differently, my nipples tightening, my core clenching with sudden need.
He leans in, his nose brushing my neck, inhaling deep. A low rumble vibrates in his chest.
“Mate,” he growls, like the word is ripped from him.
I tremble. “What?”
His hand cups my jaw, his thumb stroking my lip. “You’re mine.”
Fear and want crash together. His mouth descends on mine, claiming, and possessive. His tongue invades, tasting me deep. I moan, my hands gripping his bare shoulders, feeling the play of muscle.
He presses me harder against the tree, his cock now fully hard against my stomach—long, thick, throbbing.
His hands slide down, gripping my ass, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively. He grinds against me, friction through my jeans making me gasp.
But he pulls back suddenly, eyes wild. “No. Not here.”
He sets me down, grabbing my backpack from the ground. “Follow me. Now.”
He shifts partially, claws, fangs, but still man-shaped, and he leads me through the woods at a brutal pace. I struggle to keep up, but adrenaline carries me.
We reach a hidden cave. It was deep, dry, with a small fire pit and furs piled in the corner. He shifts fully human again, starting a fire with practiced ease.
I collapse on the furs, shaking, from fear, cold, and something else.
He kneels beside me, his eyes glowing gold. “You’re in shock.”
I nod, my teeth chattering.
He pulls me into his lap, wrapping a fur around us. His body heat seeps into me, chasing the chill. His scent is earth, pine, and manly, it fills my lungs.
My shakes turn to shivers of a different kind.
His hand strokes my back, then lower, cupping my ass through my jeans. “Your scent… it’s driving me mad.”
I turn in his lap, straddling him. His cock presses hard against my core. I rock instinctively, moaning at the friction.
He growls, his hands gripping my hips, guiding my grind. “Little one… we shouldn’t.”
But his mouth finds my neck, sucking hard enough to mark. His hands slide under my shirt, his thumbs brushing my nipples through my bra.
I arch, grinding harder. “Please…”
He flips me onto the furs, hovering over me. His mouth claims mine again, this time deeper, hungrier. He strips my shirt and bra, his mouth descending to my breasts sucking one nipple hard while pinching the other.
I cry out, my hands in his hair.
His hand moves to my jeans, unbuttoning, sliding inside. His fingers find me soaked, stroking my folds slowly.
“So wet,” he groans against my breast. “For me.”
He circles my clit, then pushes two thick fingers inside, stretching, and curling.
I buck, moaning loud in the cave.
He pumps slowly, his thumb on my clit, building me up. But when I’m close, he stops.
“No—” I whine.
He shifts me higher, positioning his cock between my thighs, still in jeans, but pressing hard.
He thrusts, fucking my thighs, his cock sliding through the denim against my soaked panties.
The friction is maddening, his hardness rubbing my clit with every stroke.
He groans, my pace building, my hips snapping, his breath hot on my neck.
I wrap my legs tighter, grinding back.
His hand slips between us again, his fingers teasing my entrance over the fabric.
We move together, desperate, clothed friction, his cock throbbing between my thighs.
I come first, hard, clenching around nothing, my juices soaking my panties.
He follows, hot cum spilling between my thighs, coating the denim.
He collapses beside me, pulling me close, cum sticky between us.
“Sleep,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Tomorrow… we talk.”
Then his arms holds me possessively.
One thing is running away from mama's house and another is getting entangled with a werewolf man who just saved me in the middle of the night, and forest. I know it's wrong, so so wrong, but what's more wrong is the heat I feel within me. The need, the want.