Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
In the end, that is what gets her. Not a lack of strength, but a lack of fuel.
The wolf form fades, leaving a naked young woman under me. She is thinner than she should be. I see ribs and I see sores. I see bruises that did not come from me, or from this rough round. I see softness too, curves and swells, and beauty in the raw, but it will take more careful tending than this to draw it out.
Almost immediately, she starts to struggle, both for consciousness and against me. She pushes against my pelted chest and I too shift, taking my human form. I need to be able to speak to her.
She needs to be able to argue with me.
Beatrix
“Let me go.”
“Never.”
He snarls the word, looking down at me with eyes the color of the moon. There is a fury in him that was not there before. He has taken my running rather badly. They always do. When they think I’m sweet and broken and helpless, a baby bird to be nursed back to health, that is when they are sympathetic. But now he has seen me in my strength, I am feeling him in his.
I want to bite him, but he keeps me pinned in the dirt, covering my body with his own. His chest is rough with hair even in human form. The night air is cold, the ground is wet, but he is hot against me. Not just warm, but practically a furnace.
“You want to get up?”
I don’t, actually. I want to stay here for as long as I possibly can. Under the stars, surrounded by wolves, beneath the body of one who hunted me down. This is what I have dreamed of my entire life. I have been a wolf without a pack, a waif without a home.
And now he is over me, making me submit, ensuring that I know I am his.
It’s terrifying, and it is everything I have ever wanted.
I want to run, but I can’t. He won’t let me. There is no way of getting up or getting out unless he lets me.
The way his eyes burn into me makes me feel as though I am pinned to the ground by a look alone, pure silver, anathema to a werewolf, somehow contained inside him.
“Do you want to get up?” He repeats the question.
“Yes,” I lie.
“Then you must promise not to run again. People could see us, and that would be dangerous. Being a wolf means having power, and that means there are responsibilities. Or do you know this already?”
The question is pointed, but I do not know what it is pointing at.
“I have responsibilities?”
“You have the responsibility not to fucking kill yourself,” he growls. “You deserve another thrashing. Is that what you want? A beating? Do you want to be pinned in this mud and whipped for being so careless?”
His threats excite me. I feel his passion for me, the passion not of a stranger, but of an alpha wolf. I squirm, not to attempt escape, but to feel his strength. I like him better now. I like this raw animal thing, rather than the controlled, dominant, elegant man who has taken me.
“I want you to rip me the fuck apart,” I say, a dark truth emerging from me in a moment of raw revelation.
I see his eyes flash, his brows rise. I have shocked him.
I do not know what his response would have been because at that very moment, a car drives up to us, four wheels just barely making it through the mud. Was there a car on the train? Or is he followed by other pack members in case he needs to make quick moves off the track? I think the latter. This is a man who is deeply prepared and surrounded by those who serve him instantly and without question.
I wonder if he can handle someone like me, someone who has never served anyone, and never will. I ran because my instincts demanded I run. I want my freedom more than I want anything. I want to be able to express my animal nature. I am tired of being kept in small rooms for the body and the mind. I am tired of being told who I am, and how it is wrong.
Armand looms over me, his face a mask of perfect confusion and concern. He is wondering if he just wasted ten million dollars. I think he did. I think he burned it on impulse, and he is just beginning to regret it.
“Is everything alright, alpha?”
“She’s intact,” he says. “And so am I. Let’s get going.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Blankets are provided and I am bundled up and back into captivity, needing a bath this time more than ever.
CHAPTER 4
Beatrix
There is silence in the car, mostly because we are not alone. The man who bought me is the leader of this pack, a true alpha in the animal sense. The others are not introduced to me. I suppose this isn’t the time for cheerful intros.