Virgin Sacrifice to the Last Lycan - Chapter 170: Chapter 170

Helen’s POV
When I opened my eyes next, sunlight filtered in through the living room windows. I was still lying on Justin. Though now I’d slid down, so I lay sideways across his lap. Looking up, I saw him looking down at me.
He smiled. “You look pretty when you sleep,” he said.
I blushed. It was such an innocent compliment and so unlike our usual interactions. He got the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks, too.
“You’re even prettier when you blush,” he said.
Something hard throbbed against my cheek, and I hurried off his lap. I wasn’t ready to do that—yet.
Justin flushed even deeper and looked away from me, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry about that. It’s just—”
“It’s okay. I get it,” I said. “That was kind of the expectation for our bodies in the past. So, naturally, it’s in your nature to be ready should the moment arise.”
“Would you two shut the hell up?” Randy grumped at us from the couch. “We were up way too late to listen to your twisted version of flirting.”
“I second that,” Russo agreed with a yawn.
When I didn’t hear anything from Julianne or Peter, I looked over at the loveseat. It was empty. Part of me was a little disappointed. They must have gotten tired and gone home. Then again, we never asked them to have a sleepover.
Had Randy and Russo fallen asleep before Justin and I had? Or had they simply stayed as our chaperones? Whatever the reason, I didn’t mind having them here with Justin in the state that he was in. If we didn’t have somebody helping hold us accountable, we might just go ahead and do things that we weren’t quite ready for yet.
Justin hurried off the floor cushion. “I’ll find us something for breakfast,” he said, rushing for the kitchen while keeping a pillow across his lap.
“Oh. Now he finds modesty,” Randy snarked. “I’d better go with him. He’s never cooked a day in his life.”
“I can fix cereal just fine,” Justin called back from the kitchen.
“Right,” Randy grumbled. “He would probably find a way to screw up milk and dry cereal.”
With that, he stomped off toward the kitchen, still looking grumpy that he’d been woken by our flirting. Russo peeked over the edge of the sofa at me, where I still lay on the floor on the floor cushions.
“Seems like things went well last night,” he said with a grin.
I blushed again. “The whole evening was nice. And mine and Justin’s time together was just as good,” I confirmed. “I enjoyed myself, and I really wish that Justin and I had known at the beginning what we know now. Because I would have liked a whole lot more of nights like last night.”
He reached over and gave me a parental pat on the head. “It’s good to see that you guys are broadening the idea of what your relationship could be. I look forward to seeing that in action when it comes to leading your pack.”
The sound of footsteps on the stairs caught my attention, and I looked up to see Peter and Julianne coming down the stairs. Both of them with wet hair and grins on their faces.
“Where did you two go?” I asked.
“The shower,” Julianne admitted hesitantly.
“Together?” I asked, arching my eyebrows at her.
She turned right red.
Peter shrugged. “Since we both have wet hair, it’s not like we can really deny it. I hope you don’t mind. The shower seemed like the best place for such things, as it’s kind of self-cleaning.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Too much information.”
Russo laughed so hard he rolled off the sofa, slapping me in the face with his wings. “That’s rich coming from you. I don’t think there’s a place in your old house or the surrounding forest or any of the nearby buildings where you guys didn’t fuck each other. The only thing about their morning activity that I can see you taking offense at is that they managed to get to the shower before you two did.”
I scowled at him for one moment before I burst out laughing. “You’re probably right. But I guess, given our history, that it’s not necessarily a bad thing that somebody else managed to christen the shower.”
“Christening is not all they did in the shower,” Russo joked. “And I’m sure by the time they were done, that tub was full of anything but holy water.”
By now, Peter and Julianne were completely red with their blush, and even Randy and Justin had come to the door into the kitchen to laugh with us—how life had changed.
Justin’s POV
The next month completely transformed my life. Winter took over the lands of the True Mates Pack, blanketing the landscape in snow. The white layer seemed to insulate everything like a protective cocoon.
I hadn’t heard from my father again. Nor had the Huntsman or William raised their heads to make trouble. We continued to search for answers about the Huntsman but found virtually nothing more, so we waited to see what he was planning next.
The changes in my personal life provided a welcome distraction from those somber topics. Thanks to living on her own, Helen was blossoming into a truly delightful woman. She’d never been like she was now, not during any of our time together, which, if I added the time correctly, was nearing two years.
But in this month, Helen learned to laugh openly. She took charge, first of her research, then of her little household, then her friends. Sadly she remained shy around me.
This hesitation on her part was maddening, especially to my lycan. But it did give me the courage to face him head-on. She called her wolf Joy and the two of them were forming a bond I was jealous of. So, I decided to try with my own beast.
Everything my father had told me about everything was wrong. Perhaps he’d labeled my lycan an uncontrollable beast to further destabilize me. At one point, lycans had a society. And we’d been wiped out by the Huntsman, not our own uncontrollable rage.
So I named my beast and determined to make friends with him—Beowulf for the poem.
I slammed into the shower, shuddering with the effort of holding myself back. The hot water did nothing to ease the heat in my groin. My erection throbbed with need, so I squeezed a glob of soap into my hand and stroked the length.
A groan pushed through my lips while the image of Helen’s head tipped back in laughter, her long neck leading down to the firm swell of her breasts, filled my vision. In my hand, my cock pulsed, and I stroked again, gaining a rhythm.
I leaned my other arm on the cold tiles of the shower wall, ducking my head and letting my mind fill with the Helen of this afternoon. She still wouldn’t let me sleep with her, but her confidence and happiness were so sexy I could hardly hold myself back.
My hand flew back and forth across my own skin until my body jerked with orgasm, spurting come far enough to hit the wall. I put my weight on the tiles, gasping out with the effort and the release. Reaching orgasm had taken barely any time at all and yet had hit me hard. My visions of Helen were getting more and more potent.
“So just fuck her, whether she wants to or not,” Beowulf snarled. “She’s your mate. It’s your right.”
I rinsed the wall, then myself. The orgasm had been good. What orgasm wasn’t? But it didn’t fully satisfy, and my cock leaped again when I ran my hands across it. Had Helen been here with me, we’d have started a second round. But once was good enough when flying solo, so I focused on scrubbing something completely unsexual, my armpits.
“I’m not going to force my mate,” I scolded my lycan. “We’ve been through this. We’re not the horrifying creature people think we are. And no one deserves to know that better than our own mate.”
“Like that ever stopped you before,” he pointed out.
Hot guilt rushed through me. I’d treated Helen horribly. So badly that I often wondered if I’d ever truly repair the damage I’d done.
“Just because you’ve made a poor decision once doesn’t mean you should keep doing it,” I countered.
Not for the first time, I wonder if maybe I should do something to make it up to Helen. But what?