Page 8 of Claimed By the Damned

“That’s if you can even make me scream.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

“Another dare,” he said with a grin. “When can I start cashing in? And what would you do if I pulled your panties aside and fucked you right here?”

Her eyes widened though her thighs clenched, torn between being worried about him following through on that threat and hoping he did at the same time. “You wouldn’t. We are in public, Knox.”

He dipped his head to the side of her neck, running his tongue along her sensitive flesh, before he nipped at her jaw. “Good. If someone walks in, they’ll know that you’re mine. Are you going to deny that, too?”

Amara used to think that she hated the possessive guys, the ones who believed they owned women. However, Knox’s possessiveness was strangely hot. At this rate, her vibrator was going to have to put in a lot of work when she got home that night.

Shaking her head, Amara swallowed hard. She needed to put a stop to this before it went any further. She needed to keep a clear head and be smart about this before they did something there was no going back from. “I’m not yours,” she said firmly. “Not until you mark me, and that’s not happening. So, put me down.”

For a moment, she wondered if he was going to listen to her. Thankfully, he lowered her to her feet, but a smirk was still firmly planted on his lips. “Oh, it’ll happen, little bunny. I’ll see to that.”

Before she could respond to that obvious threat, the bell above the door dinged as Zeke reentered and took in the scene before him – Knox’s smirk and her messed-up hair and dress. With a heavy sigh, he glared at Knox. “You just had to go there, didn’t you?”

“Couldn’t resist,” was all Knox said.

Zeke looked back at Amara and gave her an apologetic smile. Not that he had anything to apologize for. “What would you say to a drink?”

“I’d say thanks for the invite, but I don’t think that’s the best idea,” she responded as she quickly straightened her dress and attempted to fix her hair.

There was no way she could trust herself to be alone with the two of them. It was clear that she could barely control herself sober around Knox. Get alcohol in her, and, with both of them around, who knew what was going to happen?

“Come on, just one drink,” Knox pushed, running his hand along her lower back and over her ass.

“We don’t bite,” Zeke added hopefully.

That made Knox laugh. “Liar.”

Amara pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling her resolve wavering. She hated that they could sway her so easily, and she wished she were stronger. That would make it easier to resist their charms. “You guys aren’t going to give up, are you?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Zeke said with a panty-melting grin.

“As if she had a choice anyway.”

“Fine,” Amara relented with a sigh. “You win. One drink. But only one.”

She was probably going to regret every bit of this, but she could really use a drink, and maybe then she would be able to convince these guys that the bond between them was a fluke and nothing more.

Chapter Four

Knox

As they opened the door to the bar, Knox slapped Amara’s ass. He couldn’t help himself. It was so round that it begged for a handprint. A red outline of five fingers and one palm. His palm. He wanted her to look in the mirror tonight and see it, just to remember who that ass belonged to.

Her squeal was drowned out by the sounds of the music playing, and if it weren’t for the human customers, he’d grab her arm, whip her around, and pin her to the damn wall. Hike her knee up over his hip. Slide her panties aside. Shove inside. It’d take seconds.

But so far, she had said no, and though he’d been told by everyone he’d ever encountered that he was a madman, he wasn’t about to take a woman against her will. Especially his mate.

No, he’d have her begging for it first. The sweet sounds of her pleas before he roughly took her was something he was looking forward to. Clothes ripped off her body. Fingers digging into her thick hips. A nip to her tits so he could taste her blood.

The whimpers she’d make . . .

And it would happen. It was only a matter of time.

Knox took his eyes off her ass and looked around the bar. It was semi-full, though it was still too early in the evening to reach full capacity like they normally did on a warm night. The bikers would show up soon, and they’d always bring the party. He particularly liked them most and all the sadistic stories he’d coax out of them about what they had to do just to join their gang. A few shots on the house and they’d spill their guts like a blade from the sternum to the pubic bone. He’d know. He’d gutted enough people in his lifetime. He liked the way the blood spilled out, was fascinated by how the skin split.

The bikers’ stories were never as good as his memories, but they were a quick fix.

---