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She’d probably lose her shits if she knew I could ride a motorcycle in this form as well.
"He’s like Ghost Rider 2.0,” Willow whispered as if I wouldn’t hear her as her wild eyes glanced at Malachite. “Tell me he has a motorcycle.”
Now I was smiling.
"You’re asking me because?”
“You're my Beta. You know everything.”
He actually turned his head to look at her anticipating gaze. It left him no choice but to sigh as he muttered, “Yup. He got one. You don’t remember when he saved you from the bridge?”
“He was in that form?!” She was clearly flabbergasted before she was darting her gaze at me.
“Tell me you can do that in bed.”
I couldn’t stop myself as the wave of deep chuckles escaped my opened jaw like a manic madman.
“We can fuck like this, Rebel, but may I remind you, my cock is invisible here.”
She looked down but only half my body was shifted, the other half still as human as it could be.
The glint in her eyes already told me she was imagining very dirty things and not even worried about the battle I was in the midst of winning.
"We can work around that.”
I love this woman. Fucking love her.
"Thirty seconds,” Alpha Memphis declared.
“I can do a lot in thirty seconds,” I voiced more to myself as I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Let’s wrap this up in twenty.”
“I’m not fucking afraid of—” I didn’t let the man finish because it was all one of those ‘waste time’ tactics people did when they wanted to cower away from their deserved punishment.
I hated wasting time in this form, and frankly, I’d spent enough giving him a whole ass minute to try to plummet me to the realms of death.
I moved in a blur while the world only slowed around me, giving me the opportunity to enhance all my senses while I zeroed in on my target.
I could hear, smell, and feel everything that was unraveling at a snail's pace. The cheers, gasps, and words of utter disbelief. The scent of fear oozed off of Lorsan like a generous amount of body cologne. The vibrations from the ground below while the splintering heat coursing around us thanks to my summoned flames only contributed to the exhilarating anticipation of delivering the first round of blows that would take only five seconds to execute.
One round consisting of fifty punches minimum.
Without delay, my fist took the lead as my flames burst around us to create a ring of fire that would ensure we stayed right in place.
Or at least forced him to remain in place or else he’d become a crisp piece of a wolf.
The sounds of his grunts and gasps for air were only the beginning of the torture I’d deliver in there mere twenty seconds I was generously privileging him with.
Any more would simply lead to his early demise and I didn’t want him to die so easily.
Five seconds and my clenched fists were already dripping with blood —not mine, obviously— and I went right into the next round as everything around me muted away.
The cheers, the talk, the commentary from Garfield and Felecia, and even the countdown were gone as I continued to deliver blow after blow.
This next round involved my flames, and how the scent of burned flesh only pushed me to move even faster. In this state of sheer focus, Lorsan had become but a punching bag forced to endure every bit of my wrath—the years of frustration and disappointment matched with the recent anger I carried within myself for what Willow had gone through.
I never allowed myself to get lost in that intense sensation of rage, but in this state of cruelty, I could let it all out. The pent-up stress matched with my emotions revolving around the revelations discovered on the runway.
All that suffering I’d endured through the years. The self-hate I inflicted upon my shoulders while the woman in question that I convinced myself was once the woman of my admiration was alive, witnessing my struggles in the shadows.
