Claimed By The Possessive Silver Wolf

Caleb crouched down. His movement was fluid, dangerous. His eyes roamed over her face, her neck, her body, with a naked hunger that made Cora feel like she was already naked too. The intensity of his stare was suffocating.

Cora's face burned. She was staring at a stranger's penis. A very large, very attached penis belonging to a man who had just been a wolf. She slapped both hands over her eyes and whipped her head away.

"Don't look," she gasped out, her voice trembling.

A rough hand closed around her wrists. Caleb's grip was firm but not painful. He pulled her hands away from her face with an easy strength she couldn't resist.

"You hide from me?" he asked. His voice was deep, a gravelly rumble that vibrated in his chest.

His thumb brushed over the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. The contrast between his rough skin and her softness sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. Cora flinched, trying to pull back, but his hold was iron.

He wasn't looking at her face anymore. His intense gaze was fixed on her wrist, then moved up to her neck. He turned her hand over, inspecting her forearm, then the other one. He leaned in, his nose almost touching her collarbone again, sniffing.

Then, he smiled. It was a fierce, triumphant expression that transformed his face from intimidating to breathtakingly handsome.

"You are unmarked," he said. His English was accented, the words clipped and strange, but understandable.

Cora stared at him, her brain struggling to catch up. "You... you speak English?"

He didn't answer her question. He just kept staring at her lips.

"I'm Cora," she babbled, fear making her talkative. "I'm from New York. I was hiking in Yosemite, and I got lost, and then that thing attacked, and then you... you were a wolf. How are you a wolf? Where am I?"

Caleb tilted his head. "New York?" He repeated the word like it was foreign. Which, clearly, it was to him.

"Yes! New York! America? Earth?" Cora pointed up at the sky, hoping for some sign of civilization, a plane, a contrail, anything.

Her finger froze.

The sky wasn't right. It was twilight, but the light wasn't coming from a setting sun. Hanging in the sky, side by side, were two moons. One was a deep, blood red. The other was a pale, glowing white. They were massive, taking up half the sky.

The world tilted again. This time it wasn't dizziness. It was reality cracking.

That's not possible. Two moons aren't possible.

The panic she had been holding back burst through the dam. Her breathing hitched, turning into short, sharp gasps. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the impossible sky.

"I'm not on Earth," she whispered, the truth hitting her like a physical blow. "I'm not on Earth."

Caleb's brow furrowed. He didn't like the smell of her fear. It was sour and acrid, ruining the sweet vanilla scent.

He reached out and scooped her up. One arm under her knees, the other around her back. He pulled her flush against his bare chest.

Cora yelped, instinctively pushing against his pectorals. They were like warm stone. Unyielding. "Let me go!"

He ignored her struggles. He tucked her head under his chin and inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent. A low rumble of satisfaction vibrated through his chest into her body.

"Safe," he muttered. "I have you."

His body heat was overwhelming. He smelled of pine, blood, and something uniquely male, something that made her heart race even faster. Cora kicked her legs, but it was like hitting a brick wall.

"Ow!" she gasped.

A sharp pain shot through her knee. The movement had pulled the injured skin.

Caleb stopped instantly. He loosened his grip, his eyes snapping down to her leg. The scrapes from her fall were still bleeding, the dirt ground into the raw flesh.

His expression darkened. The softness vanished, replaced by a terrifying rage. But it wasn't directed at her.

He dropped to one knee on the muddy ground. His large hand wrapped around her calf, lifting her leg up.

"What are you doing?" Cora tried to pull her leg back. "Stop!"

He didn't stop. He lowered his head toward her knee.

Cora watched in horrified fascination as his tongue, pink and slightly rough, extended and licked directly over the bleeding scrape.

A weird, tingling sensation spread through her skin. It wasn't entirely painful. It was... electric. Warm. The burning pain seemed to fade instantly under the wet heat of his mouth.

She jerked her leg, trying to dislodge him. "That's disgusting! Stop licking me! It's covered in mud! You're going to give me a massive infection! There's bacteria everywhere!"

His grip on her ankle tightened, holding her still. He licked the wound one more time, slow and deliberate, before raising his head.

His lips were stained with her blood. His eyes were dark, the blue almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. The look on his face was pure, primal possession.

"My saliva heals you," he said, his voice a low growl. "You are mine now."