Chapter 13: Saved by a Gentle Giant

Blair broke the surface of the water, gasping for a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

The heavy, thumping bass of the party vibrated through the wet stone tiles as her rescuer laid her flat on her back.

Blair blinked up at the starry sky, her mind incredibly slow.

She waited for the agonizing burn in her chest. She waited for the hacking coughs that were supposed to follow a near-drowning. She braced herself to expel a lungful of chlorinated pool water.

But nothing happened.

Her chest rose and fell smoothly. Her airway was entirely clear. Why aren’t I coughing? her brain sluggishly wondered. I was under the water... wasn’t I?

Before her hazy mind could even attempt to process what happened, large hands hooked under her knees and behind her back. She was scooped up effortlessly, lifted high against a chest that felt as solid as a brick wall.

Blair’s head lolled back against a thick shoulder. Her vision was blurred, the neon lights of the party smearing into long, colorful streaks. She couldn’t see the face of the man carrying her, only the shadowy, towering silhouette of his jawline and the dripping wet strands of his hair.

He smelled like rain, cedarwood, and raw power.

The deafening noise of the party began to fade, replaced by the quiet ringing in Blair’s ears. He was carrying her away from the pool, navigating through the dark, empty corridors of the mansion. A door was kicked open, then shut firmly behind them, cutting off the noise entirely.

"Are you alright?", his deep voice questioned.

"Cold," Blair mumbled, shivering violently in his arms.

"I know. I’m going to set you down," the blurry giant murmured, his tone remarkably gentle for a predator of his size.

He lowered her onto something incredibly soft: a plush mattress in a dark bedroom. The only light came from the moonlight filtering through a sheer curtain.

The second Blair’s back hit the mattress, the liquor hit its second phase.

It was like a match being struck in her bloodstream. The shivering stopped instantly, replaced by an overwhelming wave of heat that started in her core and radiated out to her fingertips.

It wasn’t just heat. It was a blinding arousal. The drink, meant to also stimulate the libidos of beastmen, was hijacking her nervous system. Every single nerve ending in her body suddenly felt hypersensitive. The wet, clinging fabric of her shirt and jeans felt like sandpaper scraping against her skin. She felt hot, cold, dizzy, and desperately, achingly needy all at once.

Blair let out a pathetic, breathy whine, her hips shifting restlessly on the mattress. She reached down with uncoordinated, clumsy fingers, frantically trying to peel the soaked shirt over her head.

"Hey, stop fighting," the deep voice rumbled.

The mattress dipped as the beastman sat on the edge of the bed. Blair squinted through her blurry vision. He was just a mountain of shadows.

"Get it off," Blair whimpered, hopelessly tangled in the wet fabric.

"You’re drunk," the beastman said. He reached out, his hands hovering over her without actually making contact. "What is your name?"

Blair giggled. The sound was breathy and entirely unlike her.

"Bunny," Blair whispered, a loopy smile spreading across her flushed face.

"Your name is not Bunny."

"It can be," Blair purred, finally managing to yank her arms out of her sleeves. She pushed herself up onto her knees, swaying dangerously as she pressed her face right into the center of his soaked shirt. He was radiating body heat like a furnace. "I want to be your bunny."

The beastman’s breath hitched sharply. Blair felt the muscles of his chest tighten beneath her cheek.

"You are out of your mind." he muttered.

Recognizing that she was a danger to herself in her tangled clothes, he reluctantly took over.

"Don’t move," he ordered gruffly.

He tried to be as gentlemanly as possible. He peeled the wet shirt over her head, his rough hands trembling as he desperately tried not to let his bare skin brush against her soft, flushed curves. He had a girlfriend. He was an honorable beastman. But the sweet, intoxicating scent of her arousal was flooding the dark room, warring violently with his wolf instincts.

He unbuttoned her wet jeans, dragging them down her legs with rigid, jerky movements, keeping his eyes firmly averted toward the ceiling.

"There. You’re out," he rasped, tossing the wet clothes to the floor. He blindly reached for a duvet at the foot of the bed. "Now lie down and sleep—"

Blair didn’t lie down.

With a soft, desperate cry, Blair launched herself forward. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threw her legs over his thighs, straddling his lap and clinging to him like a koala.

"Warm," Blair sighed contentedly, pressing her soft, naked breasts flush against the wet fabric of his shirt.

He let out a choked curse, his entire frame shuddering. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, terrified to touch her bare back, before he finally grabbed the duvet and hastily threw it over her shoulders, trying to swaddle her in a protective barrier.

"You need to let go," he practically growled. He tried to gently pry her arms off his neck. "You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing."

"No," Blair pouted, unsatisfied by the blanket.

Her core was throbbing with an unbearable emptiness. Whining at the distance he was trying to put between them, she ground her hips into his lap.

He gasped, his head throwing back as his eyes squeezed shut.

Blair frowned, shifting her weight again. Beneath his soaking wet trousers, a rock-hard ridge was pressing deeply into her stomach. Even with all his honorable intentions and his desperate attempts to be a gentleman, his biology had betrayed him.

"Something is poking me," Blair murmured, her hazy mind zeroing in on the heat source.

"Don’t," he warned, his voice thick with lust and desperation.

Before he could grab her wrists, Blair’s hand slid south beneath the duvet. She wrapped her fingers around the thick length of his growing erection.