Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

“It’s very kind of you to join us,” Sandro greeted, settling into a chair. His gaze shifted from Francis to Blaze, who stood near the door.

“I’m only a few seconds late,” Blaze replied with a grunt.

“May I ask about what delayed you?” Sandro tilted his head.

Blaze offered a half-shrug. “You wouldn’t want to know. It’s irrelevant.” His gaze remained fixed on Sandro as he scrutinized him. Confessing that he had been with Arabella was out of the question.

Unless he was seeking a death wish.

After his encounter with Arabella at the hospital earlier, Sandro had warned him against being in her presence. Furthermore, he had accused Blaze of encouraging her defiance, despite the fact that it was the opposite.

Blaze sighed, allowing his gaze to wander away.

Sandro had a talent for detecting lies when he stared at someone for too long. He wasn’t just their leader; their gang wasn’t an ordinary one, as most people believed. They were a werewolf pack.

In the human world, the existence of such creatures was nearly impossible, but the gods and goddesses had made it a reality.

Their original pack wasn’t in Cooan; it resided in Ascostan, a town a day’s journey away.

However, a rival pack had raided them, leading to the deaths of almost everyone. Starting anew, they had taken on the persona of a mafia, the easiest way to integrate themselves without arousing suspicion.

Nonetheless, not every member of the group was a werewolf. The humans in the pack had to swear an oath, and Blaze had never witnessed anyone break it.

“Your thoughts seem distant,” Janice murmured, leaning closer to Blaze.

Blaze’s gaze flickered to hers, and he muttered, “Hey.”

“Hello,” Janice responded, a blush gracing her cheeks. She glanced down at her fingers.

Blaze sighed, his gaze sweeping the round table before settling on Janice.

She had joined two years ago. Similar to Francis, the gang’s doctor, she had been wandering the streets of Cooan.

Her backstory was distressing, as she had fled from her abusive father.

Fortunately, she was a werewolf who had not yet triggered her curse. However, not long after joining the gang, she did trigger it.

As did the rest of the gang.

Blaze triggered his own curse when he was sixteen years old. It wasn’t a topic he often discussed, as the events leading to his curse still haunted him incessantly.

When Sandro mentioned his name, Blaze’s eyes shifted, and he asked, “What?”

Sandro grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose as he glared at Blaze. He was behaving grumpily, and the urge to yank him out of his seat was almost overwhelming.

However, that would undoubtedly cause a scene.

Although he had seemed almost cheerful when they saw each other earlier at the hospital, now he acted as if being in the meeting was the last thing he wanted.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“If you’re unwilling to stay for the meeting, why don’t you leave? No one is forcing you to come.”

“I’d be more than happy to,” Blaze mumbled. As he moved to depart, Sandro intercepted him, gripping the collar of Blaze’s plaid shirt and scowling.

“What’s gotten into you? Are you on your period?” Sandro’s eyes flickered to Francis, who stifled a laugh, and Sandro scowled even deeper.

“Apologies,” Francis mumbled.

“Perhaps you should ask yourself the same thing,” Blaze shot back, slapping Sandro’s hand away.

“Do you have a new pack? Are you planning on ratting us out? I sense you are a traitor here.” Sandro raised an eyebrow, observing him as Blaze’s hand fell from the doorknob to his side. Blaze turned to face Sandro, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked before Blaze retraced his steps to his seat.

“Good,” Sandro muttered. “Let the meeting begin.”

When the meeting concluded, Sandro grabbed Blaze’s hand and ushered him to a corner of the room.

“Is this about Arabella? Do you have feelings for that bitch?” Sandro inquired, studying Blaze’s face.

Blaze clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “It has nothing to do with her, and she’s certainly not a whore.”

“Then tell me, has she enchanted you? Your behavior has never been like this until she arrived, and she’s barely been here a week!”

“It’s not about her!” Blaze yelled. “I couldn’t care less about what you do to her. You might as well kill her. Just keep me out of it.”

“Fine,” Sandro replied. “But get yourself together. Your grumpiness makes me worry that you’re on the verge of betraying me.”

Sandro patted Blaze’s back before stepping away from him.

“Bastard,” Blaze grunted, kicking the table leg and wincing at the pain.

He exhaled heavily and retrieved a cigarette from his jacket pocket. He stared at it for a moment before shoving it back into the box. Restlessness coursed through him, and he couldn’t quite understand why, but he was sure it was all connected to a certain human.

“Arabella, what am I supposed to do with you?” He muttered, heading towards the door.

As evening came, Arabella made her way to Sandro’s room after receiving an order from Janice. She wiped her clammy palms on the jeans Janice had lent her before gripping the doorknob. Slipping into the room, she positioned herself near the door.

“Undress,” Sandro commanded.

Arabella squinted, attempting to locate Sandro in the room, but she saw nothing.

“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

“No, what?” Sandro’s voice was gruff.

Arabella flinched as he materialized in front of her. Her eyes widened as he pinned her against the door.

“H-How did you get here?” Her words stuttered out.

“Are you planning to defy me, Cara mia?” Sandro’s tone was low.

Arabella shook her head, her gaze shifting away from him.

“Now, undress,” he grunted. His fingers closed around the thin spaghetti strap of her blouse, and he yanked, tearing it.

“Please stop, I’ll undress!” Arabella yelled, her fist colliding with his chest.

“Then do it, and don’t provoke me by trying to be defiant.”

Her heart raced as she gripped the torn strap of her dress. She unzipped the side of the dress and lifted it over her head. Turning her back to him, she unhooked her bra and set it down beside her blouse before moving to the zipper of her jeans.

“Are you attempting to seduce me? Because you should know it’s working,” Sandro grunted.

His eyes darkened as they remained fixed on her exposed back.

Desire surged through him, causing a low groan to escape his lips as his pants tightened. This wasn’t the first time he had reacted to her presence. Ever since he had first laid eyes on her in her mobile home and injected her, he had been grappling with these strange, unexplainable feelings.

He had initially brushed off these sensations, attributing them to a simple need for physical release. He had slept with numerous women the previous night, yet the emptiness within him remained. It was her he desired, of that he was now inevitable.

“Turn,” Sandro rasped, his voice husky, as she began to slip out of her jeans.

“No,” Arabella responded, her voice barely above a whisper, wrapping her arms protectively around her chest.

“It’s not as though I haven’t seen what you’re hiding from me.”

A blush tinged Arabella’s cheeks as she remembered the events of the previous night. He had seen her vulnerability, and the reminder of her sore back was still noticeable.

Her lips tightened as she bit down on them, and her shoulders slumped under his touch. His hand rested on her, “You are exquisite, Arabella, and you are mine.”

Arabella’s breath caught as Sandro pulled her closer, their bare chests colliding. He gently cradled her face in his hands.

“What-”

The word died on her lips as his mouth covered hers in an urgent kiss. Her heart raced in response, her body surrendering to the intensity of his embrace.

A slight wince escaped her as Sandro’s hand kneaded her backside. His growl jolted her back to reality, and her trance shattered.

“What are you doing?” She managed to mumble, her words barely audible against his lips.

“What does it look like, darling?”

“Please, stop,” Arabella pleaded, her hands pushing against his chest, though he remained unyielding.

“I’ve already told you, I’ll take what’s mine, whether you consent or not.”

He effortlessly lifted her and deposited her onto the bed. With a deliberate motion, he positioned her legs apart and descended between them, his mouth exploring her core.

“So delicious,” Sandro mumbled against her skin, his fingers slipping inside her.

A mixture of pleasure and surprise made Arabella’s voice break into a scream. Her fingers gripped his hair instinctively, her body arching in response to his intimate touch.

“S-Stop!” She gasped.

“But you want this,” Sandro whispered, his hand now reaching for one of her breasts, his touch both possessive and tantalizing as his mouth continued its exploration.

Arabella’s heart raced erratically, her body simmering with unmet desires that left her yearning and aching. A needy moan escaped her lips, breathless and desperate, a testament to the overwhelming sensations she was experiencing.

“Sandro,” she gasped, his name slipping from her in a throaty plea.

“Darling,” Sandro’s voice, thick with desire, urged, “I need to hear you scream my name louder.”

Arabella’s internal struggle was evident as she bit her lip, battling the urge to give in. However, the intensity of his touch proved too much, and she couldn’t hold back. A low, guttural groan filled the air as his fingers quickened their pace within her.

“Sandro!” The cry tore from her throat, a crescendo of pleasure and release as her legs trembled uncontrollably.

As the waves of ecstasy subsided, she struggled to catch her breath, attempting to sit up and regain her composure. Her gaze landed on Sandro, and she caught sight of the noticeable bulge in his pants.

But her concentration shattered as his phone vibrated noisily, provoking an exasperated groan from him. He answered with a curt, “De Luca,” his demeanor shifting as he listened to the voice on the other end. After nodding and a muttered affirmation, he concluded, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

With the call done, Sandro rose from his seat, his attention returning to the state of his arousal, which had evidently diminished. Then, his gaze shifted to Arabella.

“Go clean yourself up in the bathroom.”

“Okay,” she replied quietly, hastily wrapping the duvet around her figure.

As Arabella moved to pass him, Sandro’s grip on her hand tightened, and he briskly tugged the duvet away, exposing her completely.

“You are mine, so stop hiding from me,” he asserted, his tone possessive.

Arabella nodded, her head bowed and quickly fled to the bathroom. She stood beside the bathroom door, her chest rising and falling as she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to steady herself as she slid down the cool wooden surface.

The weight of what had transpired pressed down on her, shame coursing through her as she replayed the intense encounter in her mind.