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Buzz … Buzz … Buzz.
What the hell is that?
The sound of something solid vibrating along a wood table pulls me from my memory. I reach over to the nightstand and grab my ringing phone. The name Sandra, my co-worker from the bar, lights up my screen. I swipe my thumb across the screen and answer the call with a reserved, “Hello?”
“Hey, Riley, it’s Sandra. I was just wondering if you were walking into work today. My car died, and I don’t want to walk alone.” The concern in her voice tells me just how terrified she is at the prospect of making that walk on her own. I can’t fault her for that. Not everyone has a death wish as Grace put it.
“Um, yeah. I usually walk.” I don’t own a car, so it’s not like I have much of a choice, really.
“Great, can I walk with you?” she asks hopefully.
“Sure. I leave about thirty minutes before my shift starts. Just meet me here,” I reply, trying not to sound put out.
“Got it, see you soon. Thanks, Riley. Oh, hey, your birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it?” Gods, please don’t. Please don’t.
“I think so, yeah.”
“We should totally do something to celebrate,” she exclaims with just a tad too much excitement. Fuck, she did.
“Yeah, okay. I got to go. See you in a little bit.”
My hands shake harder, and I fumble to light up the screen.
“Okay, bye,” she says, her voice faint and muffled to my ears. The call disconnects as she hangs up on her end, and I drop my phone.
I fist the pills still sitting in my hand and wrap my arms around my middle. Fight-or-flight burns in my legs, urging me to run. I pull my legs up criss-cross applesauce and rock. Faster and faster, forwards and backwards. Sandra’s question echoes in my head. Your birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it?
Fuck, my birthday. I hate birthdays.
The sound of creaking hinges is enough to jar me from my slumber. The soft yellow glow of the hallway light shines through the crack, casting the large imposing shadow I know all too well on the far wall. I don’t move, keeping my breathing even, as Alastair peers inside, as he’s done a hundred times before; making sure we’re where we’re supposed to be.
A heartbeat passes and the door closes, casting the room in darkness, but for the glow of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Lying on my side, my back to the door, I watch the stars shimmer in the cloudless sky.
A feather-light touch brushes the hair off my shoulder, and I jerk away from the invading touch. Looking back over my shoulder, I come face to face with a pair of glowing crimson eyes hovering over me. “Alastair, what are you doing in here?” I breathe, swallowing the nervous lump forming in my throat.
How did I not hear him in the room?
His hands grip my shoulders, rolling me onto my back, and climbing on top of me. I push at his much larger frame, my feet scraping against the bed to slide out from under him, but he uses his legs to bracket mine, pinning them together tightly. I hit his shoulders, trying to push him off. “Alastair, get the fuck off. What the hell are you thinking? Are you drunk?”
He doesn’t say a word as he gathers both of my wrists into one of his large, meaty hands and forces my arms above my head. He lowers his bulky frame slightly so some of his weight is pressing my body into the mattress, effectively pinning me in place. His nose skims along my jawline from my chin to my ear. The sourness of his whiskey breath tickles my nose. It takes everything I have not to throw up all over him.
I try to wiggle one of my legs free to knee him in the balls, but he locks his ankles around mine to fully pin my legs. He leans closer and sucks my lower lip into his mouth. Pulling back, he releases my lip with an audible pop. The feral grin on his face as he looks me in the eye freezes my blood and locks every muscle in my body.
He whispers in my ear, “Happy sixteenth birthday, Riley. No one is taking the pack from me. There is one way I can guarantee I remain in control.” His wolf finishes that statement with a dominating growl that has my wolf shrinking back. Not in fear for herself, but in fear for me; fear of pushing his wolf too far.
The implication of his words seeps in. Gods, no, he can’t mean … “Y-You want to force a mate bond?” To force a mate bond would not only mean we could never leave Alastair; but it would also mean we could never bond with our true mate. Oh, gods, that also means he’s going to.…
“Oh, darling, you WILL be my mate. You will respect and obey me like a good little bitch.”
I scream as he bites down on my neck, fangs piercing my flesh. He draws his hand over my mouth and grits through his teeth in my ear, “Shut up, you stupid bitch. If you wake your sister, she’ll be next.” He shifts his position so he’s looking down at me, staring me in the eye. “Do you want that? Do you want to watch as I tie her to the bed and have my way with her? Ripping her apart as I slam into her over and over again? All while you are forced to sit by, watching and listening to her screams and cries of pain, helpless to do anything and knowing it’s all your fault.” His grin is feral and smug. “Would you enjoy that, my pet?”
Breathing heavily through my nose, I shake my head.
“That’s a good girl. Will you behave now?” His thumb caresses me from my jaw to my throat, applying pressure to my pulse point. “I’ll make this pleasurable, all you have to do is be a good little bitch.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and force my hands to relax, my nails pulling at my skin as they detach, and blood pools in my palm. Reluctantly, I nod, and he releases my mouth and wrists.
“That’s my girl,” he purrs as he slides his hands down my body, his eyes trailing after. He runs his fingers over my collarbone and works his way to the hem of my shirt, biting and licking my exposed skin. Across my chest, down my arms, and along my waist.
