Page 46 of Pistols & Peonies

Dr. Aspen swallows hard, then lifts his chin, trying to reclaim some shred of authority. “This is important,” he insists. “If you won’t consent, I’ll have no choice but to go to Alpha–”

Kane’s hand shoots out, fingers curling into the front of the doctor’s lab coat. He pivots and slams Aspen into the wall with brutal efficiency, plaster cracking under the impact. “You say one word to Alpha about this,” he snarls, “and I’ll make sure you never run another test in your life.”

Dr. Aspen’s eyes widen in terror, feet scrabbling uselessly against the floor as if friction alone might save him. “T-that sounds like a threat, Commander,” he stammers.

Kane bares his teeth as he leans in, voice dropping to a low, vibrating growl. “It’s a fucking promise.”

It’s absurd how hot that sounds.

I press my thighs together to dull the ache, mentally bitch-slapping myself for my body’s traitorous response. Meanwhile, my damn wolf is absolutely lapping it up, humming with pride and satisfaction in a way that makes me want to throttle her.

“Do we understand one another?” Kane murmurs, crowding Aspen so closely that the doctor’s eyes cross, his breath coming in shallow, panicked bursts.

He nods frantically, shoulders trembling. “Understood. I apologize for overstepping. Won’t happen again.”

Kane doesn’t release him right away. For a moment, it’s like time itself freezes, the room holding its breath, walls closing in.

“Good,” he finally says. He lets go of the doctor and takes a single, unhurried step back, the violence draining from him with unsettling ease. “You’ll forget this little chat ever happened, then. And you won’t summon my mate here for any more appointments without my express permission.”

Dr. Aspen nods again, sweat beading on his brow, chest heaving.

I should feel sorry for him. Instead, I’m uncomfortably aware of how much I want to see just how far Kane might take this– how far he could. It’s like watching a nature documentary unfold in real time, an apex predator reminding the scavengers exactly where they stand.

Kane turns to me, expression dark and thunderous. “Let’s go.”

He closes the distance between us in two long strides and grabs my hand, yanking me toward the door. My pulse rockets, both from the adrenaline and from the raw, primal thrill of being physically claimed. I barely manage to shoot Aspen a little finger-wag on the way out before Kane drags me into the hall, marching us toward the elevators.

Neither of us speaks until we reach the lobby.

Kane finally lets go of my hand, jabbing the elevator call button so hard it’s a wonder the plastic dome doesn’t crack.

“Was that really necessary?” I mutter, more out of obligation than actual anger.

His jaw flexes, glare fixed on the elevator doors. “I’d already told him no,” he replies flatly. “He deliberately tried to go around me.”

I push at his shoulder, forcing him to turn and face me. “So you threaten to kill him for it? What the fuck, Kane?”

He shrugs as he averts his eyes, utterly unbothered. “He needed to be reminded of his place.”

“Jesus,” I mumble, shaking my head. “Guess it’s true what they say about you. You’re a fucking psycho.”

His gaze finally lifts to mine, and for a split second, I swear I see something startlingly soft behind it. An apology, even. But whatever it was fizzles out fast, dark eyes pinning me in place with feral intensity. “I protect what’s mine.”

The air between us snaps taut.

It’s not sweet. It’s not romantic. But it’s real– raw and hot and dangerous in a way that sinks straight under my skin, my wolf rising like she’s found something she’s been starving for.

I glare back at him, heart pounding, realizing with a sick twist of clarity that maybe we both have.

CHAPTER 16

Kane

The elevator is taking too damn long.

Whispers ripple down the corridor behind me, one of the fluorescent bulbs overhead won’t stop flickering, and my fists are still clenched so tightly that my nails are digging crescents into my palms. None of it matters. It barely even registers, because every ounce of my attention is currently focused in the one place it shouldn’t be– on the raven-haired beauty glaring daggers at me.

Violet Slayter.