Page 21 of The Broken Wolf's Redemption

Brooke nodded. She didn’t elaborate and no one said that it shouldn’t be her. Not Rome’s parents, who hadn’t seen him in how long? Not his own blood family who should have been able to see him first. Her. The outsider. The one who no one had the faintest idea about.

She carefully took the mug. Even though she felt like she might fall over, half with exhaustion and half with disbelief that any of this was even real, she didn’t spill a drop. Her feet turned to wood as she got closer to the small bedroom in the back. She passed two closed doors realizing the cottage was much bigger on the inside than she had thought, Rome’s door was open, a cheerful light with an old glass fixture left on. The room was kind of spartan, with only a larger bed with a white metal frame and an antique wooden washstand beside it, but then again, it was probably used for patients, and the less that had to be cleaned and sterilized the better. The floors were wood like the rest of the cottage, old hardwood planks. She expected lace curtains at the window, but instead found heavy blackout drapes, which also made a lot of sense. If someone was meant to be resting in here, the room could be made light or full dark easily.

Rome was on the right side of the bed, sitting up, but he seemed to take up the whole thing.

He was shirtless, sporting a bandage on his shoulder and down his arm. The smell of salve was pungent in the room, but even worse was the raw, injured, maleness of him. His scent was even darker and stronger, half animal and half dark delicacy, taunting her to sink her teeth into it.

It wasn’t just his scent. It was the rest of him. She couldn’t make her eyes focus on his face when his golden skin was all on display. A few bruises and scrapes, but his chest was mostly flawless. In every way. He was incredibly muscled, from his huge shoulders all the way down to the sculpted contours of his six-pack abs. The sheet was just low enough around his hips, where the elastic band of his boxers stood out, that she could also see his Adonis V.

She knew she was staring. She knew she was blushing, but she didn’t have to worry about that for long. All the blood would disappear from her face and rush straight between her legs. She tingled there, shamefully wet and even worse, so painfully empty.

She nearly dropped the mug even though she held the thing in a death grip.

When she’d tattooed Rome, he’d worn a muscle shirt, and when she’d done his back, he’d removed his shirt when he was facing away from her. She’d been so focused on stenciling and on the work, and after, on bandaging him up, that she hadn’t gotten a good look at his chest.

She could imagine Poseidon there, controlling a violent ocean, a ship pitching on the waves, or Zeus doing battle in a rage, with all his lightning and fury.

“You’re staring at me.”

Her eyes snapped up. She wished she could throw the mug at his smug face and run. She wished she could run away from all of this, but there was no escape. She had to find her courage. She wasn’t going to surrender her pride, she’d promised herself that.

“Just trying to assess how much damage has been done to my work.”

“I don’t have any tattoos where you’re looking.” A pause, and then he proved how truly awful he was, as if she could ever have forgotten. “I can smell how wet you are.”

She turned and slammed the door shut, then stormed over to the nightstand and set the mug down hard. She got right up in Rome’s face, challenging him in a burst of rage that gave her strength. It gave her something more than that. She felt all the blood pooling exactly where she didn’t want it to go. Her body buzzed with a terrible need. Rome couldn’t move. He was supposed to stay still.

She imagined turning the tables on him, reclaiming all her power and being the one to command him. She’d strip slowly, torturing him until it was his blood that was boiling. Until it was him who couldn’t take another minute. Until every single thing he’d ever thought he wanted and shouldn’t want and cursed himself for was banging inside his head until it obliterated him. She’d climb over him, grasp onto that wrought iron headboard. She’d make sure he stayed absolutely still and that she didn’t jostle him. She’d kneel over his face and direct his tongue. She wouldn’t let him have all of her immediately. She’d make him wait. She’d make him tease her slit first before she gave him anything else. Her pussy was a prize and being inside her had to be earned. She’d make him hard. So hard that it was painful for him. She’d make him wait, make him feel like he didn’t deserve to be the one touching her, make him feel like he was small and horrible and being used. She’d make him feel like he was the one for sale through harsh, mean commands, and then she’d deny him. She’d make him suffer. She’d be the one to derive pleasure from his pain and his surrender and his humiliation.

She knew she’d never do any of it.

She could fantasize about whatever she wanted, and she could be however mean she wanted. That was only fair. She’d never act on any of it. Taking back her power wasn’t about denial. She was already locked in this twisted, messed up game. She was Rome’s by contract, but if it was indeed a game, then she’d been playing it wrong.

“So what?” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, refusing to feel the fear, shame, apprehension, and crushing anxiety of the unknown when it came to him. She was every bit his equal. That contract didn’t change who she was. It wouldn’t break her. She’d been giving him exactly what he wanted, and that stopped now. “You’re hot, but I’ve seen better.”

“Doubtful,” he scoffed.

“Wow. Your arrogance knows no bounds. Not sure why that should still surprise me. Even if I did find you attractive, which I don’t, the rest of you would ruin it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’ve soaked your panties.”

She let him see the evil side of her, even if her sneer was altogether forced. “You’re right. The only explanation, given how distasteful I find you to be in general, is that it isn’t your body. It’s you like this. Helpless. Immobile. Weak. At my mercy. You had to call me for help. You relied on me. It’s delicious.”

Those coal black eyes ignited with the very lightning bolts she’d imagined angry Zeus would hurl. He hadn’t wanted those kinds of gods. Nothing token. She could make him want her artwork. She could make him want her. He didn’t want to touch her? She could shatter his resolve. She could turn that contract upside down. She could make him be the one to beg her.

Perversely wishing for justice was one thing. Turning herself into a sex goddess who couldn’t be dominated, commanded, or the least bit mortified over her own power was another. She was forty and she still hadn’t discovered that long promised transformation of her thirties.

Bile splashed at her throat. She was disgusted with the act she put on, horrified at her words. She wasn’t used to being mean. Rome took it in stride. If she’d shocked him, he didn’t let on. He certainly wasn’t hurt.

“Don’t mistake healing for helplessness. Even in this state, I’m still very dangerous. It’s not wise to taunt a wounded animal, especially when one owes so much to that very same being.”

“This again?” She took the mug back up and brought it forcefully to Rome’s mouth, pressing it hard against his lower lip. “It’s getting old. I know what’s owed, but that’s a business arrangement. Short of that, you have no hold over me.”

“You’re thinking that you can beat me at my own game, but this isn’t a game, Seren.”

“Right.” She tilted the mug, and if he didn’t want to wear the minty smelling concoction, he’d have no choice but to open. An unbidden shiver lifted the hairs at the back of her neck. Her nipples stiffened, rubbing painfully against her bra under the black t-shirt with the alien cat head. She’d knotted it just above the high rise of her jeans and that’s where the shiver settled, bursting like a toxic bomb. “Just drink this and go to bed, Rome. I’m tired of it. You’ve got to be exhausted too. It takes real effort to be this obnoxious all the time.”

His eyes narrowed. He stared at her and his thoughts, for once, were clear. You’ve changed.

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