A name I know very well.
A name I’ve feared for years.
Tieran isn’t just the Carnage Island Alpha.
He’s the Black Mountain Alpha’s son.
The same one who slaughtered Alpha Bryson’s daughter. That’s why he’s here—not for being rejected, but for slaughtering his mate.
And my wolf decided to nap in his bed.
Now she’s ignoring him, content to relax in his presence, utterly unaware of the growing tension in the room.
I really am broken. It’s the only explanation for her relaxing state and my inability to wake her the fuck up.
His palm comes down on my rump, making my wolf yelp in surprise. “Off,” he demands.
She snarls in response.
And he snarls right back, the angry sound loud and reverberating through my ears.
My heart actually stops. I feel it stutter. Just as I sense my wolf’s inability to breathe.
She’s terrified.
Fucking finally.
But rather than fight or run, she freezes, like she’s forgotten how to move.
“Off,” he repeats, his tone one that would bring me to my knees if I were in human form. His Alpha energy is intoxicating and overwhelming and so damn thick that I can’t see straight.
Or maybe that’s my wolf losing her sight. She hasn’t taken a breath in too long a time. Our lungs are aching. Yet she remains frozen, his snarl having rendered her incapable of functioning.
He reaches for us and I beg her to run, beg her to do anything other than sit here like a disobedient pet on his bed. But she refuses me.
She merely shivers as his hands take hold of her scruff to guide us off the bed.
He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either.
And he curses at whatever he sees in his sheets.
“All right, little brat,” he says, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. “I think I know what you need.”
My vision is starting to blur with black spots.
My wolf is feeling unbalanced.
My lungs areburning.
She’s lost all control of her motor functions and has obviously forgotten our will to survive. Because my wolf is still frozen, just in his arms now.
At least inhale,I beg her, my heart splintering at this helpless sensation. I feel so shattered. So utterly useless. So… so…lost.
I’m not this girl.
I’m not meek or unintelligent.
I should have control of this situation.
