Page 7 of The Broken Wolf's Redemption

She knew the way to his office. She had to reclaim some control of the situation. She led the way. She wouldn’t cower. She’d come to him. She’d put her name on that paper he’d written out. If she let him dictate her every move, she’d be powerless, and there was no way her wolf was going to bow down to that. She’d split herself in half if she didn’t face this with bravery.

Still. Her hand trembled when she flicked the light on in his office. It was probably the same temperature as the front, but goosebumps broke out on her skin underneath her clothes. A sick, cold sweat coated her body. The urge to shift was wild. She couldn’t remember a single time when she’d ever had so much trouble stopping the wolf from coming out, and she’d been raised from the time she was born in human society.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up, hackles at attention, at the sound of Rome’s footfalls behind her.

She had to step further into the room or have him at her back again. The wolf wouldn’t be cornered, so she spun around and uttered another challenge.

“Why me for your daughter? Why not some other wolf? Why not your family?”

She’d been tattooing this man for a year and a half. She knew parts of his body with a level of intimacy that made her blood run hot. She’d always tried to remove herself, think of the body as a canvas or in that clinical way that a doctor would. It wasn’t quite possible to do that with Rome. Not when he had a body that begged to be worshipped. She’d maintained a professional veneer, and she was proud of that. Still, she’d memorized every bit of him that she’d ever seen and inked. She knew his skin, she knew his body, but she knew very little about him.

A wolf living in the city? No wolf lived amongst humans if they could help it. She’d be very surprised if Rome had a pack. All signs pointed to him being a lone wolf.

Her parents were packless. They’d been that way since before she was born. Her father hadn’t been cast out. He’d married her mother when they were both still part of small packs.

Any wolf had enemies, and her mother’s pack was obliterated by enemy wolves. It hurt to know that her grandparents had been murdered by her own kind. Wolves weren’t like any other shifter. They could be dangerous, especially when they were left to thrive in their own world. Her father’s pack, unable to maintain a solid unit on their own any longer, eventually drifted off to support themselves. It meant living in cities and towns, often alone, but maintaining distant ties with their kin.

It had been apparent to her as soon as she’d realized Rome was a wolf, that he was pure blooded. From one wolf to another, his blood sang a song that hers answered. That song had far too much of a hold over her than she wanted to admit. Rome wasn’t just dark and cuttingly beautiful. He was in his prime, powerful, daunting, disgustingly beautiful.

“I’m going to leave the room and you’re going to put these on.”

Her lungs shrank to nothing when he thrust a white cotton ball at her. The fabric was soft against her hands. Another contradiction for something so appalling. She was scared to unravel it, but she had to. Gradually, a pair of panties took shape.

A sharp laugh burst out of her. “What the hell are these?”

She couldn’t imagine Rome shopping in the granny panty section, but where else would he have found them?

His lips pulled back from sharp white teeth. “You wanted to be covered. You will be.”

“I’m not putting those on. What kind of fetish do you have?”

“You will put them on. Unless you want to walk out this door right now and hand over the keys to your building. I can have the paperwork ready for you to sign by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“No doubt, but I don’t owe myself a million dollars.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Neither does coming to me for cash, signing an agreement, and showing up only to back down over a pair of white cotton underwear.”

She shook the offending object, the idea of it so repulsive that she could barely swallow. “Fine. Enjoy the peepshow.”

“Why would I need to spy on you when I’ll have everything I want right in front of me?”

“You won’t lead me to believe you have any honor. Not after this.”

He shrugged and walked out of the room. Whistling, like there was anything to be happy about. He slammed the door. The office was windowless. As clean and clinical as when she’d been in here the first time, giving the space an unused feel.

She stared down at the underwear. The tags attached counted for something. They remained only ninety-eight percent evil.

Her wolf wanted to charge out and shred the things then do a number on the office and the man who it belonged to, but she forced back the destructive anger. She bent and untied her shoes and took them off. Slipped off her leggings and peeled down the black boy short panties. If she put the white ones on over everything, that would only make things worse.

She had to get control of herself. If she couldn’t master her own feelings, she wasn’t going to be able to steer the situation in any direction. Acting childishly wasn’t going to get her through this. Rome would only devise something worse for every single time she acted out of spite.

She’d tugged her dress down and left her leggings, panties, and shoes carefully in a ball behind the desk when Rome opened the door. He did it slowly, giving her time to ready herself.

She didn’t like the clipboard in Rome’s hands. He walked right past her and perched on the edge of his desk, graceful, lean and built at the same time, at ease but deceptively coiled and ready for action, like a snake in tall grass.

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