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“Absolutely nothing I’m doing so far is perverted,” he laughs at me. “Later, if you’re a very good girl, you might experience something perverted.”
I’m realizing now that there’s something faintly familiar about his voice. I wonder if he’s one of Christian’s men. If they had the nerve to come for me… fuck, of course that’s who it is. They couldn’t let me get away. Even after he was dead and the whole sham ended.
“I’ll fucking kill you,” I growl.
That earns me another hard slap to my ass.
“I know you’re scared,” he drawls. “But try to behave yourself. If you can’t, my tie doubles as a gag.”
I fall into sullen silence. These fuckers better not be taking me back to what can only jokingly be called home. I couldn’t wait to get out of that prison when Christian died, and I won’t be kept there again.
“Good girl,” my captor says. “Let me make this a little safer for you still. No gag, but a blindfold might calm you down.”
He proceeds to wrap his tie around my head. It smells like human cologne and pure alpha wolf. The two scents mingle and do something absolutely treacherous between my legs.
What is happening to me?
Maybe I’m so fucked up that this sort of thing appeals to me now. I haven’t been the same since I was forced to marry Christian Colt at eighteen years of age.
I was his wife for three years. We consummated the marriage once to make me shift because appearances demanded it. He never touched me after that. Our mateship wasn’t fated and was never about love. It was about access to my family’s money, and he had plenty of ways to spend that.
“Fucker,” I growl under my breath, not knowing if I mean Christian or my current captor.
He crouches down next to me, his mouth very close to my ear. “I can smell you,” he purrs. “I know you’re aroused. Poor little thing, haven’t been mated recently, have you? Your body is desperate to be fucked. You can ask nicely. You don’t have to act like this.”
“I’ll fucking kill you,” I snarl back.
He chuckles, clearly finding this amusing.
It’s not funny to me at all. I should not be turned on. Not in the fucking slightest. I should be loathing him the way I loathe all males.
He reaches between my legs, which is not easy because he bound my ankles together, and slides one finger down the tight crevice of my thighs. He creates pressure with a finger against the seam of my lips, his palm cupping the curve of my rear. My body reacts to his touch like he is seducing me with full caresses. I feel my pussy getting wet as he presses a second finger between my thighs.
* * *
Henry
Oh, she likes this. Most of the tension has gone out of her now. I’ve distracted her from her captivity with my fingers, and she’s taken to my touch very nicely indeed.
She’s much quieter now, making little growling gruff noises to herself while I touch her. The bindings are in my way. I want to untie her, spread her legs, and play with her pussy until she begs for mercy and submits with all her soul.
But that will come. For now, I know this is as frustrating to her as it is to me. More, really. She can’t get what she really needs. All she can get is the half-feeling of it, a reminder of what it might be to be properly handled and mated by an alpha.
This poor little thing.
What the hell has happened to her? What didn’t happen to her? I know her husband was killed not all that long ago. I don’t know by who, or why. Having seen her in action just now, it’s not the most insane thing to wonder if she was involved.
The way she kills is brutal. Animal. I am not shocked, because brutal animals are what we are. All of us have the capacity, even if most of us don’t indulge it.
I remember her back when she used to smile and laugh and tease. I remember when she was innocent. Before the marriage that must have broken something inside her.
I want to be soft with her. I want to help mend the wounds inside her. But right now, she needs dominant touch and firm discipline. She’s running wild and begging to be tamed.
I wonder if she remembers me. Probably not. She was a spoiled little thing with her whole life ahead of her when I knew her—and I barely knew her. My impression was of a happy young woman who was much loved and had every reason to live a life of luxury and tender care.
Looking down at her now, locked in place on the back seat of one of my vans, it’s safe to say that life hasn’t panned out the way any of us thought it would.
“What do you want, little one?” I purr the question in her ear as I keep stimulating her with my fingers. I expect her to curse something back at me, tell me to go fuck myself or worse.
