Run Run rabbit

That this year’s ceremony took place so close to the full moon was happenstance, but a delicious one. The wolves would be heated and ready, their animalistic tendencies rising and their knots swelling every time their cocks grew hard, their breeding instincts triggered by the smell of women in heat. The seat-fillers would fill in the gaps adequately, and every wolf in attendance would get his dick wet by the end of the night, but there would only be a handful of others advertising their readiness. She wouldn’t be the only one with a heat simmering shallowly beneath her skin, eager to be filled and fucked, but she knew from celebrations past that the numbers would be uneven, the she-wolves in shorter supply, making the ones who were there — like her — an even more desirable prize to be won. And he does love to win.

“What do we have to do?!” It was the human from earlier, the excitement over newly-acquired gossip washed away in a tide of panic, now that she realized there was more to the night than simply looking pretty.

Vanessa frowned. It wouldn’t do to have the girl swept up in something she wasn’t prepared for, not if she might claim she was forced later.

“You do understand what this night is about, right?” It wouldn’t do to have complaints of dodgy consent, would reflect poorly on all of them. “If you don’t want to participate, you should go upstairs

now. You can hang back and watch with the other gawkers.”

“No, I-I do! I know, I mean. The werewolves . . . I’m going to hook up with a werewolf. But what do I have to do?!”

She smiled at the girl, knowing her canines were longer this close to the turn.

“Well, you have to run. The chase is the fun part. If you don’t run, you’ll be taken as an easy prize.”

“Is that bad?”

By then, the drums had given up any pretense of being anything other than a heartbeat for the crowd to churn against. Vanessa shrugged, gathering herself for what she knew was coming.

“I suppose not. Not if you don’t care who catches you.”

She heard the first partygoers cry out far behind them, the first slap of the leather against bare skin, and then they were off. The human girl squealed, making for the wall, and Vanessa bounced on her toes. She’d never been this far back in the crowd, and the rising tide of people cresting like a wave in her direction made her cry out in excitement, pivoting on the balls of her feet to dart out of the way.

She serpentined along the side of the surge, waiting for the moment that the crowd split, and as soon as she saw her opening, she darted into the melee. This was where she was meant to be. In the midst of the ru

To her left, a woman screamed in laughter, shrieking shrilly when she was pulled from behind, an arm encircling her waist and lifting her off her feet. Vanessa dodged around bodies, determined not to be caught that easily. The wolves who claimed women in the ballroom were opportunists —

positioning themselves strategically throughout the crowd, so they didn’t need to compete to find their mate for the night. She supposed they were worried about a scarcity in prospects, as if there would ever be a shortage of women at any event he threw. She had no intention of being taken by that sort of hedge-betting strategist. She wanted to run, and any wolf that tried to claim her as the spoils of their victory would need to chase.

As she suspected, it did not take long for the well-heeled guests to lose a bit of their polished shine. She passed Tris Tatterswain near the base of the staircase, his arm around a braying woman with long, blonde hair and the neckline of her dress around her waist, her full breast cupped and overflowing from the palm of his hand. All through the crowd, clothing was shed and dropped; pulled away by the hands of staff hired to work the event, making way for the naked, wolf-headed men to weave through the throngs of people, wielding short lengths of leather, striking out at the women who deliberately got in their way.

The short one came after her first. The one from against the wall with the filthy mouth, catching sight of her as he careened through the crowd, swinging his leather thong back and cracking it against her thighs as she got hung up behind a petite goblin, one she recognized from the only adult entertainment shop in Cambric Creek, who was currently caught between whip-bearers who’d come up from the sides. His cock was short and thick like the rest of him, fully engorged and flush to his stomach, his foreskin already retracted to show a dark, hungry tip.

The foul-mouthed stranger was transparent in his desires and would no doubt be a satisfying prelude to the main course for the evening, and if this were any other night, any other celebration, she might enjoy bouncing astride his hips . . . but Vanessa knew her wolf would not be satisfied; knew the overwhelming need that rippled beneath her skin would not be quelled by him. Besides, she thought, skirting out of the way of a stumbling couple, he wanted to play the alpha with her, and while she clearly had a weakness for bossy, commanding men, her patience for taking orders was only so much, and that slot was currently filled.

Unlike some of the other guests, the stola she’d worn was designed for practicality, skimming above her knees and gathered at the shoulders, an athletic silhouette, perfect for ru

Bracing, midwinter air gusted in from the open doors at the back of the house, opening up to a wide veranda, steps leading down to an expansive lawn, and the ring of dark forest beyond. It was the forest she wanted. She wanted to run, needed to run, needed to let her wolf feel the wind in her hair, with nothing but the moon and sky overhead, outru

The sharp bite of leather stung across the back of her thighs once more as a tall man approached her from the rear, swinging the whip back with fervor. Vanessa felt the crack against her skin a second time, then a third, nearly stumbling on the fourth, attempting to weave around the bodies surrounding her in an effort to get away. The man dodged, ducking back around the laughing couple who slowed her progress, managing to catch her once more. That he could have been anyone was the most exciting part, setting her heart hammering in her throat. The yacht club hottie, the handsome blonde with the pointed chin who’d been in the first conversation circle she’d abandoned . . . doctors, lawyers, bankers, company presidents — they were all here, rubbing elbows with art students and baristas,

entry-level administrative assistants, part-time realtors . . . this wolf could have been any of the above.

He was tall, tall and somewhat broad-shouldered, and for the briefest moment, her blood thrilled as he caught her around the waist, thinking it was him. The scent of her captor caught her nose then —

warm, golden-brown, dusty dirt roads and sun-dappled trees, and a watery cool, aquamarine-scented cologne that made her nose twitch, and she knew he was not the one, bore scant resemblance to the only wolf she hoped would chase her. He was not broad enough through the chest, his washboard abs too sculpted, his body honed for aesthetic instead of strength, and his smell was all wrong. His cock was hard, though, jutting out like a handle, and she gripped it as he swung her out of the crowd's path.