Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Liz’s nails scrape across my neck while I tie one of her wrists to the headboard and I have to stifle a groan. I can feel her squirming beneath me to get out of Dom’s grasp. For being so small she’s got a hell of a lot of fight in her. It makes me hopeful. Whatever she went through didn’t kill her spirit. All of a sudden, her fist swings out of nowhere and lands square on my jaw.
“Fuck!”
I wrap my hand around her throat knowing her natural reaction will have her hand flying to my fingers to try and pry them off. I lean back and flex my jaw. It actually hurts. A touch of pain makes me smile inwardly. I tighten the rope on one wrist, making sure it’s properly secured while my other hand presses against her small, fragile neck. It’s enough pressure to feel the blood pumping through her veins, but I’m not pushing hard enough to actually cut off her breathing. I just want her other hand busy while I make sure I have her where I want her.
“Baby girl, that hurt.” I admonish her while grabbing her other wrist in my left hand and the rope in my right. Her eyes widen as she realizes her struggling is useless now. The shadow of Dom standing up behind me catches my attention; he must have secured her legs. She screams out unintelligibly, but within seconds Dom shoves something in her mouth. I glance at her to see what it is. She’s shaking her head and trying to spit out his shirt that now acts as a gag. I tug on the rope and fasten it tighter to the bed to restrict her movements as much as possible. I finally breathe out and climb off the mattress to have a look at our gorgeous mate all tied up.
No longer able to fight us, no longer able to hurt herself.
Her dress is bunched up around her waist revealing a cream thong that’s begging to be torn from her. It takes every bit of self-control I have not to shove my face in between her legs and leave a languid lick. Her breasts are covered by a simple white strapless bra and I want to rip it to shreds. It’s not sexy enough to grace her skin. Our mate is anything but simple. She should be covered in skimpy but expensive lace. My dick hardens at the thought. Or leather. Fuck, she would look so hot with a thin leather strip draped over her breasts, just wide enough to cover her nipples, to tease me. I resist the urge to palm my dick; now is not the time. Not when she’s still as scared as she is. Her long platinum blond hair is spread out under her in a messy halo, making her look wild and recently fucked. Damn shame the last part isn’t as true as the first. Wild perfectly describes our mate.
That’s when I notice the small bruises around her wrist, hips, thighs, and ankles. I stare at them waiting for the purplish blue to slowly fade. They aren’t bad, but she’s pulling against the rope and it’s going to rub her skin raw or give her welts, or both. She needs to knock that shit off and let them heal as wolves do.
“Stop struggling.” I give her the command with ease but worry filters in as the bruises appear to darken. “You’re going to hurt yourself, baby.” She yells something incoherent through the shirt stuffed in her mouth and I have to suppress a grin. The happiness sneaking up on me at seeing our mate spread out for us vanishes when I look back at her bruises. They look even darker. What the fuck? I hear Dom thinking the same; she should be healing by now. Concern for our mate rapidly kills any desire I had.
“We hurt her.” I shake my head in disgust. Yeah I want to fuck her and bring her to the edge of pain while I pleasure her delectable body, but I don’t want her injured in any other way. She’s a wolf. I heard it. Dom heard it. She isn’t supposed to be bruised. I don’t want to mark her unless she can look at them and remember the pleasure that came with it. This isn’t what I want. A deep regret settles in my chest. “Why isn’t she healing?”
“She’s not a werewolf.” My neck whips around at Dom’s blunt statement.
“The hell she’s not; you heard her wolf!” My breathing becomes erratic and adrenaline starts pumping through my blood, making my fists tremble with the need to thrash against something. And right now, Dom’s face is looking like the best option.
“Calm down, Caleb. She’s going to be fine. Her wolf is in there, but she’s something else.”