A Luna And A Whore
The court had not risen.
Even as the fire burned low and the circle’s scent turned thick with salt, sex, and prophecy, not one wolf dared move.
The sky still hadn’t returned her stars.
And Jasmine hadn’t blinked.
She stood in the center, barefoot in ash and blood, hips flushed with the bruise of Roger’s grip and thighs slick with his seed. Her chest rose in slow, deliberate rhythm... not from breath, but from control. Moonlight glazed her skin like a second sweat. She had taken their alpha. She had fucked him into prayer. And still... it wasn’t enough.