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thrust.
    “I’ll protect you,” he vowed. “I’ll fucking protect you good.”
    His eyes snapped open before he could slam in. Shit. Talk about wet dream interruptus . A monster erection pounded in front of him, as huge and desperate as if he’d been having sex for real. His right hand was trying to grasp it, but the damn electrum knuckles were in the way.
    He could hardly get them off fast enough.
    “Shit,” he hissed as he gripped himself.
    He pulled two-handed all the way up his pole. God, he was close, like he’d been teased for hours and needed to come or die. Unable to hold back, he spit on three fingers and rubbed the head. His neck arched with pleasure. That was it. That was . . . He rolled onto his back so he could fuck his right hand while his left fingers rubbed. He grunted, grinding his butt cheeks together and thrusting compulsively. His cock was steely, the hot spot at the base as itchy and tender as if someone else were there. All werewolves had a gland there, one that turned their sensation dial to ten if it switched on for a partner. His bulbus shouldn’t feel like this when he was alone, but it was driving him crazy. He pumped faster, tightening his fingers, making sure they squeezed as tight as they could on the achy spot.
    His hand was big, but his stiffened cock was longer.
    “Unh,” he said, his scalp nearly lifting off.
    He twisted his grips like he was opening a jar, one on his swollen base, one on the slippery crown. A bundle of sheet was caught between his thighs. It strafed his balls like a woman’s nails.
    “Cass,” he gasped. “ Fuck .”
    His orgasm blasted off. His hips snapped up for it, jism shooting like a fountain onto his chest. The pleasure was sharp and hard and left him as mellow as melted caramel when it trailed off.
    His panting breaths were loud in the empty room.
    I said her name , he thought. Cass’s name. Snow White. The breathtaking unattainable bane of his high school existence.
    This wasn’t the first time he’d jacked off to fantasies of her. It was, however, the first time a mysterious dying faerie told him he already knew the person he was meant to protect.
    It might not really be her, of course. Rick might want to play her knight in shining armor because he wanted her. His own wish fulfillment could be obscuring the true message. Then again, what if it was her, and he convinced himself not to help? Could he live with the consequences of letting her be hurt?
    He groaned aloud at the conundrum. One thing he knew for sure: going to see Cass Maycee would be embarrassing.

CHAPTER THREE
    CASS couldn’t swear things looked better in the morning, only that she was determined to tackle them. A cautious walk across her bedroom brought the first knockback. The picture of her father, which had fallen down last night, lay in a compact puzzle of its own broken glass. Careful not to endanger her bare feet, Cass fished it out by the frame. Though this was unharmed, part of the photograph was blackened, as if the paper had smoldered and then gone out. Her father no longer sat at his worktable, caught in that long-ago moment of creation. A rough edged smudge replaced every bit of him.
    Dismayed, she touched the carbonized shape with her fingertips. She didn’t know who would have done this except for him. Indeed, perhaps this was what he’d been looking around for in Gran’s study. He should have reminded Cass she’d promised to destroy it, rather than summoning up the juice to do it long distance.
    But maybe he thought she’d fail to follow through again. He must have realized how precious the photo was, how it symbolized their connection. This saddened her even more. Did he truly mind that she loved him like a human? Not cool and remote and proper but complicated and messy.
    “I still love you, Dad,” she said stubbornly. “Burning this picture doesn’t give you your way.”
    Poly reminded her with a head butt and a yowl that it was time for breakfast.
    The