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Then he stopped.
I wanted to cry out from the loss, but all I managed was a groan of discontent.
“Who was your pack?” he asked in my ear. His breath tickled my skin. This man was all-encompassing. He had every sense in my body on high alert. He smelled of fresh pine and spices. His voice held a low, gravelly tone to it that had my pussy putting on a dance party. I was torn between telling him everything just to hear him saygood girlone more time or standing my ground.
“Guess we’re doing this the hard way, then.” Gently, he set me back on the balls of my feet, the slack in the rope tightening once again.
Hard way? Like getting my ass caned was the easy option? He moved around to face me, his face a mask of control. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a…silicone rose. My mind didn’t register what the weird object was until he turned it on, and it began buzzing.
Oh shit.
He placed the opening of the rose against my clit. Moon Goddess. The vibrations made my pussy clench, and the sensation of a moving silicon tongue caused by hips to jerk. The noose tightened around my neck at the sudden movement. It was tight enough to restrict a good portion of my airway.
Fuck.
Death by strangulation and vibration.
The fucker better not put that on my tombstone.
I forced my body to remain as still as possible against the assault on my clit. If the noose became any tighter, I’d hang myself. The pleasure crawling up my stomach was like a coil tightening. It tightened and tightened, ready to spring free until—
“Motherfucker,” I gasped. The curse came out strangled and hoarse.
“Who was your old pack?”
With my bound hands in front of me, I flipped him the middle finger. No way was I telling this fucker the truth. Not when he’d tied me up and spanked me. Not when he’d made me come so close to a pleasure I’d been constantly denied.
That pack was my greatest weakness. My greatest shame. It was the reason for my nightmares and pain. The scars I carried would always linger, a reminder of who I’d been to them. Nothing but a pawn. Nothing but a sacrificial lamb.
He would see me differently.
Fuck, why did I care how he saw me?
I let out a frustrated inner growl. Where was that pesky little wolf now? Whenever I’d felt in danger or threatened, the monster my wolf became lurked just beneath the surface. She was like Judas. Two faces of the same coin. There was the calm wolf that nested cozily in my mind every day. She drove my instincts, my senses. Then there was the monster. The wolf that prowled the darkest, deepest depths of my mind, banging against its cage, waiting for an attack.
That wolf was nowhere to be seen.
One more time—shit—he placed the vibrator back against my clit on full blast, wrenching a scream from my lips at the sudden onslaught of pain and pleasure.
“Tell me, Red,” he commanded. “Tell me, and I’ll let you have what you want.”
Want.
What did I want?
A fucking orgasm sounded good right now, but there was something deeper begging to be noticed.
Mate.
I snorted. Fucking unlikely. I was a dead wolf walking, with my pack after me. There was no way this guy was my mate. Still, the more I listened to my wolf, the farther I dug into my mind, the clearer the word became.
Mate.
Was that why the monster hadn’t made itself known? Because it knew I wasn’t in any danger? Although I could argue that I was, since the noose around my neck was near choking me to death. It was like breathing through a straw.
Mate.
“Okay!” I cried out as he removed the vibrator from my clit just before I was about to hurtle over the edge. “I’ll tell you. Just cut me down.”
