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Dominic whirls on me, his eyes bloodshot and hooded. Only then do I realize he’s drunk—irrationally drunk. He stalks toward me, and I hold my ground despite the nervous swirling in my stomach. He stops with mere inches between us and breathes straight whiskey into my face.
He sneers when my nose wrinkles from the smell.
“I rejected you,” he says, his voice barely more than a caveman grunt.
And yet here we are.My wolf bats her eyelashes at him.
“I rejected you,” he says louder.
The only thing he’s doing is confirming for me that whatever is going on with my wolf is affecting his too. This has to be why he’s keeping me here—he’s trying to figure out what this is and how it’s happening. That rejection should have left us both completely severed emotionally from each other, but here my wolf is still wanting to call out to his.
“Yes, I remember. Are you having second thoughts?” I taunt him because I have a feeling I’m better off not confirming that he’s not the only one struggling with his wolf.
He lets out a growl that is more wolf than human.
Once again, he reaches for me before I react. This time it’s not for anyone else’s benefit. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and drags me to him. He has to lean down to meet me.
His mouth is warm and commanding on mine, his teeth nipping my bottom lip in warning when I try to pull away. There’s not a single part of me that’s fooled by the kiss, I know the score, and I know it’s purely a power move for him to make himself feel better.
I’m not interested in being used.
I part my lips for him, inviting his whiskey breath in properly. The second he feels me growing pliable, he reels back, staring at me like I’m the monster here.
“Why does the Luna Sovereign know about your…” he trails off, gesturing at me in a way that makes no sense.
“Huh?” His drunken babbling is almost comical. He squints like he’s not even sure he remembers what he is talking about, then brightens slightly.
“The smell. That goddamn smell that’s haunting me. Haunting my men. That dumbass…” he motions with his thumb towards the door, “I only left him on guard because he lost his sense of smell in a house fire as a pup. Can’t smell a damn thing, not even you.”
I shift uncomfortably. The words are all too much of a reminder of my role in driving the rogues onto Callum’s territory.
“Excuse me while I go drown myself in your bathtub,” I mumble, already starting for the bathroom. I don’t mean it, of course, but I could do with a moment alone. Nothing makes me more insecure than the mention of the smell that’s accompanied me since the day before I shifted for the first time.
Everyone describes it differently. Sweet. Earthy. Floral. Fruity.
Whatever it is, it’s far worse than whatever curse might have caused my family’s infamous first shift pains. My sister never did get anywhere with that, either.
Dominic grabs me by the wrist and jerks me back against his chest. I gasp when he buries his face against my neck, inhaling deeply. He’s uncomfortably close to the spot a mate would mark, and I stiffen against him.
“Relax,” he whispers against my skin.
He presses his lips right on that spot, taunting me with how easily he could make that decision for the both of us. My wolf is ready to throw ourself at his feet, but I know I’m better than that. I jerk my elbow back into his gut, breaking the contact, and he grunts before releasing me.
I might be small, but having an older brother means I learned a couple of half-decent cheap tricks growing up.
I flee to the bathroom, my heart in my throat as I slam the door between us and lean against it. I’m breathing heavily enough that he can probably hear it through the door. Right now, if I were to rank the worst things that could ever happen to me, my list is all too clear.
Number one: My sister will never forgive me for what happened.
And number two: Being marked by Dominic-fucking-Parker.
Chapter Thirteen
Dominic
I really don’t want to think too hard about why I’m so pleased to see Callum Cross looking like absolute shit. I can venture a guess to why he’s here, but I’m making him sweat by forcing him to sit across from me as I carry on an excruciatingly slow phone call giving me an update on a project I’ve just broken ground on.
“Sorry about that,” I tell him as I finally hang up. “What can I do for you?”
