Bearclaw Valley If love is a joke, then use me ruthlessly

a wave of uncertainty passed over her and left as quickly as it came, for he did not push her front end to the ground, he did not make her submit to him.  this was about something other than power; perhaps not quite love but something more than trust and care.

she was a vocal lover, unhindered by societal expectations, and she rocked her body in time with his.  once their romping came to an end, she turned to him again with that same shocking intelligence behind her eyes.

yes, there most certainly was something different about this and it wasn't all in the tender way in which her white-cloaked alpha had treated her, no.  this time she had felt something, more than physical, and this was just its culmination.

it frightened her.

she'd never felt this way before, whatever it was, and without the verbage to communicate it, it frustrated her.  but maybe she didn't need to.  as the swelling went down and their bodies were released from each other, she continued to seek his physical presence, dotting him with kisses and love bites — so long as he didn't run off to digest his own feelings first.