That the things he needed would terrify her.
“Fabiana, go home. I’ve called a wolf for you and they’ll escort you. I’ll let you know when you can come back.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Fabiana stepped gingerly away from Pasquale and gave a wide berth around Giuliana. Not the best way to meet her under different circumstances.
Pasquale never took his eyes off Giuliana, and the silence stretched, only broken by Fabiana opening and closing the door behind her.
“Are you sure?”
Mine!
Red’s cry only made Giuliana struggle to stay standing.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“There is always a choice, Giuliana. Our wolves can’t force what we don’t want. Even if I have to separate us until this fades, I will. For you.”
It always came down to this … a moment, a choice. Pasquale or agony. Freedom or chains. Control or loss.
Red, don’t do this.
It’s for your own good.
It was all the warning she got before every cell in her body twisted, rearranging and morphing rapidly back and forth between wolf and human. The fluctuation muddled her brain, ripped away any coherent thought except to bed Pasquale.
“They don’t control us. Make your choice.”
His dark gaze captured hers. A demand. Pure will. Giuliana clung to that rock in the torrent of desire spinning around her. He was her anchor, her calm. The magnet on which her needle spun and gave direction.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Pasquale stood tall, staring at her, seeing through her. His Alpha power curled out from him, a lazy show of force.
“Come here, Giuliana.”
Her feet carried her to his side before she even knew she’d moved. His brand of power wrapped around her, caressed her heated skin.
“Strip.”
It was an order, one she couldn’t deny, couldn’t fight. His face was hard, a muscle ticking in his jawline as he watched her.
She pulled her shirt over her head, exposing the black lace of her bra to his gaze. It was a physical touch, the way he looked at her. Her nipples hardened to pebbles, and she popped the back of the elastic to free her aching flesh.
“Faster.”
Silken straps from her bra slid down her arms and fell to the floor with a delicate pat as she reached for her belt. Her fingers were numb, clumsy with craving. Somehow, she got her pants undone and kicked them down her legs.
She’d forgotten her boots.
She stood bare to him but locked at her ankles. He only lifted an eyebrow at her, unmoving, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her.
You are beautiful in every way.
Snow’s voice was threaded with Pasquale’s in assurance. But the threat, his command, was still there. Her hands worked hard to remove her boots and socks before she stepped out of her pants and underwear.
Pasquale studied her in silence, walking around her body to stand behind her. She could feel him there, pushing her, daring her to move a muscle.
