Page 77 of The Wolf's Mate

“Gives us about twenty minutes before they get here, give or take. I assume you are prepared to join them, since you have time to sit and gossip around the fire like old women. How many of them are there?” Michael asks.

My head swims with new information as I desperately try to keep up.

“About ten, I think?”

Michael curses under his breath. “I hoped for less, but we’ll work with what we have.”

Suddenly, Michael pulls me forward until our chests are touching. His hot breath hits my face. Hygiene is clearly not a main concern out here because his breath is horrific. It takes everything in me not to gag.

“We have visitors coming, Red.” His hand tightens around me to the point of pain.

A whimper escapes my throat, and I struggle against him, but Michael is a damn rock and refuses to move. “You’re fucking hurting me.”

Michael only smirks. His hold doesn’t loosen, though. “Don’t you want to know who is coming to see us? They are coming for you, after all.”

My face pales, and I tense in his grip. Michael just laughs at my discomfort, like it’s a joke. Just like every other man in my life has done. All except Rip.

I don’t want to know who’s coming, but I also don’t don’t want to know. “Who?” I finally ask, voice a mere whisper.

“The Nephilim. They are coming to collect what they think is theirs.”

The Nephilim. The creatures of nightmares. Coming for me.

I knew this was a possibility. I knew going into this that I might not make it out alive. Their name alone evokes a fear in me so strong, I don’t want to know what it will feel like when I see them in person.

“Don’t worry, Red. Remember when I said you’re mine, and I’ll protect you? I meant it.” Michael pushes a stray lock of my hair behind my ears, and I’m too frozen in fear to do anything other than let it happen.

“How will you protect me?” I hold no delusions that Michael will actually protect me if it comes down to it. He says he wants me for the magic I possess, but I also don’t see him hesitating to discard me if it means he would live.

Michael’s gaze falls to my neck. I take a moment to realize what he’s staring at until he brings two rough fingers up to trace along my skin, right where Rip’s mark is. My whole body goes cold and rigid in his grip.

“I can’t have you wearing another man’s bite when you’re mine now, Hettie. There’s only one way I can truly protect you and gain access to your magic.” Michael grips the back of my neck hard, and I cry out in pain.

“Please don’t do this. Please…” Tears flood my eyes. The mark is the only thing I have connecting me to Rip. Losing it will be like leaving him all over again. I selfishly want to keep his mark with me so I can carry a small piece of him always.

Now Michael wants to take that away from me.

“Please…” I beg again. I’m once again transported back to the girl on the streets, begging men to not leave her high and dry. I never wanted to be this girl again, but perhaps it’s the only life I deserve.

“It won’t hurt…much.” Michael grins before barking orders to the men behind us. “Grab the damn dog. If she tries to resist, kill him.”

“NO!” My scream is lost in the cacophony of sounds.

Two men get up and go grab Grass. Grass barks, trying to fight his way out of their hold. He bites one of them on the hand, and the rogue curses.

“Fucking mutt,” he growls, taking him by the neck while the other rogue clamps his hands around Grass’s muzzle.

“Please don’t hurt him!” I scream, begging for someone to listen.

Michael gently strokes my cheek. It doesn’t soothe me like Rip’s touch does. It makes me feel dirty. “No one wants to hurt the mutt. Just do as I say, and no one will get hurt. You can do that, can’t you?”

What choice do I have? Either let Michael bite me and erase Rip’s bond, or refuse and have him hurt Grass and then bite me anyway.

Tears for myself and those I’m hurting and leaving behind fall freely down my cheeks. I don’t think I’m capable of speech anymore and just nod to Michael. He notes my acquiescence.

“Pull away and your mutt dies,” he threatens one last time.

Then Michael strikes. His fangs dig into my neck, and pain like razor blades carves into my skin.

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