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“I’m going to enjoy ripping you—”
“Stop.”
“My King?” Timoth grits out. Angry.
“I won’t repeat myself, Beta. Stand down.” With a harsh shove, he releases his hold and then hops up, standing above the warlock with a glare. And yet no one mentions the stench coming down off him. “Take him to the cells for questioning. Be as accommodating as you please.”
“Yes, Alpha.” Two guards step forward, each taking an arm. The warlock is forced to his feet, shoved, and dragged back onto our lands, but before crossing the entrance, his eyes meet mine over his shoulder.
There’s a challenge there. The stink of rubbish and spoilage is also stomach-turning.
“Long live my queen, your majesty.”
7
ISABELLA
I’m running.
Shivering and with my heart pounding; I push myself harder while stillness overtakes the forest. My footfalls are loud in the silence while soft gasping breaths escape my chest, burning as adrenaline builds and my core tightens from excitement.
Tonight, I am his prey.
Afraid and thrilled while the yearning I’ve had no choice but to bury down deep overtakes me. I embrace it, though, this crazy game we’re playing. Having his attention focused solely on me is addictive, and the beading of my nipples through the thin white dress I’m wearing is a sign of that. So is the flush of my cheeks and goose bumps on my skin.
However, it’s the wetness between my thighs the animal wants.
His warning growls make me whimper. Loud and thundering, it cracks, and the sound echoes throughout the landscape. Each one settles deep within my DNA, a private calling for his mate, and I almost drop to my knees.
Instead, I stumble, blindly reaching a hand out to the nearest trunk, using it to brace my weakening form. That low vibration ripples across every nerve ending, and I want to submit. To rip my clothes off and present my body, make myself available to his every desire.
Because pleasing him is all I want to do.
Xadiel Evergreen will be my first and last. No other man will ever touch me.
Today. Tomorrow. Always.
My vow is bonding. Carved into our existence.
“Gods help me.” The soothing scent of pine and mint envelops me, becoming stronger the longer I stay against this trunk, and I push off again. The bottom of my dress drags over the ground, becoming filthy as it snags on a low branch, and I almost bend down to rip off the torn hem.
Almost. Because no sooner do I reach down to lift it, my bare feet still rushing through the moonlit forest, I feel the tips of claws graze my arm. That’s all he does. Just a touch, but it’s enough to pull a wanton moan from me.
Deprivation does that to a person. My need for him is magnified and painful.
Tilting my head slightly, I keep my eyes on where I’d been. I’m walking backward now, glancing between the foliage but his massive form evades me. Blends into the night, yet right as I turn to run, his voice stops me.
“You’re a bad girl, Little Moon. So mischievous.” Gravelly, his tone is dark and rich. There’s also a small tinge of anger underneath, exasperation at his own uncontrolled desire. “You haunt me, Isabella. Every moment of every day. Even in my dreams.”
“You chose this. Not me.”
“I did.” He’s also closer. Toying with me. “But you know the why.”
“Lies.” That’s what keeps us apart. “You chose to believe—”
A large shadow moves from the left, the swiftness making me flinch, and I lose my footing on a thick root. Not that I ever fall. He’s there in an instant, his black-tipped claws gripping my dress and keeping me upright. The fabric tears, the sound reverberating around us while those eyes, golden with black swirls, stay on mine.
So much emotion in them. So much regret.
