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“As you wish,” he murmured, inclining his head.
The instant he released her, she propelled herself against his torso, molding her body against his impossibly hard muscles, his irresistible scent all around her. She pressed her lips to the center of his chest, breathing him in, whimpering. “What… what’s happening?”
With surprising tenderness, he wrapped a big, warm hand around the back of her skull, his lips moving against the hair at the crown of her head. “The truth, omega.”
They stayed that way for a long moment, nothing but the wind humming in her ears, the knowledge that she’d already surrendered to him even if she didn’t even know what that meant. Not yet.
Without a word, he knelt at her feet, more straps wrapped about her ankles drawing her feet close together.
“What… what are you doing?”
He gazed up at her, giving her a half smile that was part mirth, part inside joke he hadn’t let her in on yet. “You’ve already proven freedom is the wrong thing for you. So, we’re taking care of that right off the bat. Until you can prove you can do as you’re told and know how to behave, this is your future.” He rose to his full height then, hands on his hips as he stared down at her. “You’ll learn the lesson soon enough. Your body has already got you most of the way there.” He tapped a finger at the middle of her forehead. “It’s this last part though that’s a stubborn one.”
She yearned to bite that finger clean off, but she wanted something much more. She met his gaze then, her resolve or defiance or courage draining away with every second that elapsed. “Please just… don’t hurt me.”
But even that was a lie, for if he did hurt her, used her, took what was his from her body, disregarding her wants, her desires, and her needs, a part of her already knew she would respond to it just as strongly. The only thing her body wanted then was for him to justfuckher. To take what was his. To claim what she’d become.
How do you know what that is? Do you even know who you are anymore?
He took her by the upper arm then, her blouse stretching tight across the swell of her breasts, his fingers playing at the hard tips of her nipples pressed against the fabric, until she whimpered with it. His touch was like electricity crackling across her skin, and she bit down a moan, barely managing to avoid begging him to do much more than touch her.
“I know, omega.” The note in his voice was almost wistful, even weary. “It gnaws at me too, that drive. I feel it.”
The revelation had her jaw dropping, and in that moment, she felt it once more. A connection that was more than merely physical, more than just emotional. It was as if there was this still-submerged direct line from her mind to his, the reception fuzzy, full of static. But it was growing stronger. What happened when that connection came in loud and clear?
Then he marched her back toward his truck, the bonds at her ankles forcing her to take mincing, humiliating steps, her breasts bouncing in the confines of her bra as she stumbled and shuffled along in the gravel. He made no effort to help her, not even deigning to slow his pace, dragging her along to speed her up now and then if she fell too far behind.
He said nothing. It was as if he expected her to follow him, that she would obey meekly, silently, obediently was assumed. He knew it—and somehow she did too. Obediencewaseasier, at least for the moment. There would be time enough to resist again, to plan her next move. In the short run though, all she seemed to be able to focus on was picturing him putting her under him, putting that huge cock that she’d felt inside of her, making her scream as it stretched her.
Jesus Christ, where did that come from? Get a hold of yourself!
It wasn’t that simple though. Whatever it was that was taking her over, the entity, the need she couldn’t explain, it was almost triumphant, its final victory nearly complete. And when that moment came, she feared she would lose much more than her self-control.
She was terrified she’d forget who she wasentirely. That Stacy Masterson might be gone.
For good.
As he helped her into the passenger side of his truck, belting her in and cinching the belt tight, the CB radio under the dash squawked, the static jarring for a moment. Wordlessly, he keyed the mic, the curled black cord swinging languidly between his hand and the radio itself.
“Dmitri. What do you have?”
The voice on the other end, wavering in and out under occasional waves of static, was one she thought she’d heard before. It had to be one of the others. But she hadn’t yet placed voices with names. It was a gruff, almost gravelly sound. Not quite as deep as Dmitri’s. That tone had a note of mirth, almost playfulness to it that her captor of the moment never did.
Static momentarily buzzed across the channel. Then it came through strong and clear once more. “Need to know something. Did the truck make it two miles? Mattias and I had a bet on it. Trying to figure out if I’m collecting—or paying up.”
Dmitri chuckled, shaking his head. “Stalled just after turning onto the highway. Not even a mile and a half.”
“Shit. Looks like I’m paying then. The smug bastard.”
Rage coiled within her at the words. “You… youknew. What the—did you plan this?”
Dmitri looked over at her, his cool gaze evaluating her for a moment while his long finger played back and forth over the worn, black transmit button on the side of the radio handset. “Not exactly. A test, of sorts. See what you might be capable of.”
They fucking knew.
“Why?” The word practically fell from her lips, defeat sinking like a stone, hot and sour in the pit of her belly. It almost distracted her from her profound, seemingly never-ending arousal.
Dmitri laid his arm along the top of the steering wheel, staring ahead through the windshield, speaking as if to nobody in particular, like a man musing to himself. “Had to make it clear. She needed to understand.”
