Chapter 37

Ismena woke the next morning feeling physically better than she had in a long time. Until the events of the night before—or is it early morning?—crashed through her.




"OH MAH GAWD!!" The shout tore from her before her hand automatically slapped at her mouth. Her eyes widened.




She'd made out with Wolfariane. Wait, that is NOT a make-out. Whatever it is, it is not a make-out.




In the bathroom, as she brushed her teeth, her head wouldn't stop thinking about it.




 A make-out is never that good. She can call it oral séx—which it is—but oral séx is never that good either. Hell, séx as a whole is NEVER that good.




Unbiddenly, she remembered what he told her the day before about mates under the full moon. 

"It's séx, but more." He'd said.




What did he do to me?

Naked, Ismena faced the bathroom wall mirror, her cheeks as red as tomato sauce. And even got redder when she noticed his dried semen on her belly and thigh. A reminder of the wild night she had on the balcony, in his arms.




How did that happen? 

That part is never too clear no matter how she thinks about it. 




He'd been irritated by her. He'd been scowling at her. He'd been angry at her. He'd told her to walk by him slowly to her bedroom. She can still remember the feeling that coursed through her with each step she took. She'd felt like she had to walk too slow or she will wake a sleeping tiger. 




Did she really wake a sleeping tiger?




 Because that is exactly what it felt like when he let out that animalistic growl that made her belly tighten and her heart flutter, before jumping on her like a tiger will jump on prey. 




But then, he'd done...things...to her. Jesus.




She can feel herself getting wet—and not by bathing!—just thinking about it. "Heavens, that man is dangerous." She muttered out loud.




There was no bathtub in the bathroom, so she got under the shower and allowed the water to cascade down her back. And her neck...




She faced the mirror again, swiveled her head to the side, and looked at THAT part of her neck. It was faintly red. 




She touched it, but couldn't feel a thing out of the normal. So, how does it turn erogenous under his own touch...? How does it feel so pleasurably sensitive at the touch of his mouth...?




The memory of it made her shiver. Jesus. What the hell happened? 




Nothing has ever felt that way before. Just because her séxlife is almost non-existent doesn't mean she'd never had good séx before...she has, but it didn't come close. No man has ever made her feel a quarter of what she felt the night before.




"That man is dangerous." She muttered again. And not the obvious danger, he is a new kind of danger. 

He is séxually dangerous to her and her body. And her health.




Wait, her health?

Who is she kidding, she has never felt better than how she feels now in a long long long time.




After bathing, Ismena was torn.

Her body wants more of what she got the night before so badly, while her mind is freaked out by all of them. 




She is torn between getting closer to him and sticking to him like glue, or avoiding him like hell until she has given this much thought to the upper part of her brain, and not the lower part of her that wets for him at every thought. At every contact with him.




Can she really tangle with a strong, powerful man like Wolfariane?




******




Wolfariane was in the Meeting Hall with the Alphas and the Head Sentinels. It consists of a council of twelve. 




They are in the middle of a very important discussion. A Wild One that is killing the Changelings brutally for the past two years.




All Wild Ones are dangerous, but this particular one is the most dangerous of them all because he seems to be a psychopath too. 




Brutally killing off their people in the same way; heads torn out, stomachs wide open with the intestines snatched out and scattered all over the body, all the toes of his victim bitten and chewed out. This particular one is a psychopath. 




Wild Ones are dangerous because they have lost their moral reasoning, and succumbed to the animal's basic instinct. A Wild One kills and feasts on the 'meal' until its bare bones remain, but this particular one just kills without feeding on it. 




Just for the kills. Just for the thrill of the kill. 




Hence, the name; The Wild Psychopath. 

They gave him that name after his fourth kill, a year ago. 




They've been trying to find him but he has proved exceptionally evasive to an extent that is surprising. 

He leaves no recognizable markings, no track marks, no evidence, and no scent. 




"Poor Ganee's parents, they are still filled with grievance." Head Sentinel Rodarh remarked from his chair across the table and the others nodded their head. Ganee is his last victim and the boy is barely thirteen years old.




"Well, we managed to catch a scent. It is faint, very faint, but we are doing our best to know if we can use it to catch that bástard." Alpha Asisy, the Alpha of the tiger Changelings stated in anger.




"I met Ganee's mother, yesterday, in the market. Poor woman looks like death." Alpha Alphose's tone was filled with pity. He is the council representative of the Cougar clan.




"Why wouldn't she? She lost her only son four weeks ago to the hands of that Wild Psycho. That will break down any changeling mother even if she has twelve children. And Ganee's mother only had Ganee." Head Sentinel Rodarh replied angrily. He is the council representative of the Elephant Clan. 




The elephant Alpha, Alpha Onaries, is on a mission to the non-changeling world so he couldn't attend.




"Well, we do agree that he will be caught, we just need to extend our searches to more clans and dwellings." Head Sentinel Adanel, finally added. He is the council representative for the werewolf Clan.




Automatically, the twelve members of the council looked at him with interest. The man does not talk much. The council of twelve will disagree but the Alpha King knows they fear Adanel well...with good reasons.