Page 57 of Wolf.e

“Take the scrap wood to Millers Farm, tell them to bill me,” I say and nod for them to take off.

I push through the screen and make my way into the dim house as the sound of tools hitting a job box and trucks and bikes firing up fills the air.

I look up at the two-storey foyer. This house is large, much too big for one person. It’s neat though, and it smells like a blend of stale air and lemon or citrus, but all the furniture is clean and uncovered and the walls are all pale gray.

“You’re wasting your time here. I hope you realize there’s not a chance in hell I’m going with you to live at the clubhouse.”

I turn to face the defiant voice echoing from behind me. Brinley stands in her bare feet, little linen shorts with a black cropped tank top and her hair wild around her shoulders. Her nipples are hard underneath her tank and her arms are folded under her tits, forming a little shelf for them. Her face sits in a pretty, defiant little scowl, letting me know she’ll be putting up a fight.

Fuck me, she’s stunning when she’s angry.

My eyes take hold of hers from across the room.

She’s right about one thing. I am wasting my time, but not in the way she thinks.

I’m never going to be able to overcome my want for her.

There’s no saving her.

Her breath shallows and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. Outside, she’s all strength and heat simmers in her pale blue eyes. When they meet mine, I see the tiniest hint of fear.

That split second is all my body needs for that basic, primal instinct to take over. My instinct to hunt her, my instinct to completely own her.

The last thread of my control snaps like a twig under the weight of my boot, and I know there’s no going back.

I’m frozen, afraid to move, or breathe. In the short time I’ve known Gabriel, I’ve seen him angry, amused, terrifying, focused, godlike.

But I’ve never seen him like this. This look he’s wearing I can’t place.

He doesn’t respond to me.

His eyes are primed and focused, they seem to touch every hair on my head, every stretch of skin. Like they’re learning the planes of my body. I’m afraid to speak again or even breathe.

I wait like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

The second Gabriel moves, I flinch. He smirks and calmly pulls his cut from his body, tossing it over the back of a chair in the side parlor. He turns and silently stalks back to the front door. Placing his hand in the centre, he leans into it and drops his head, pausing for a moment, almost as if he’s collecting himself. I can see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he inhales and then releases a single deep breath. His other hand comes up, resting on the handle for a moment and then slowly locks the door with an audible click that seems to echo throughout the entire house. I can sense the danger, but I’m rooted to my spot, too afraid to go anywhere. Gabriel slowly turns away from the door and stares at his cut on the chair. A second passes. Then two, before he brings his dark gaze back to mine.

“Run,” he growls.

I flinch again with the deep timbre of his voice in the quiet space.

“W-wha—?”

“It seems”—he starts to move toward me and I brace myself for flight—“we’re at an impasse. So, I’ll give you one minute as a head start.”

It's in this instant I realize I am useless in the face of terror because I still don’t move. I just watch in slow motion as my hunter stalks toward me, grips both my arms and pulls me to him roughly, our bodies flush and his sweet scent washes over me, drawing me in deeper.

“If I find you before that sun is set, I fuck you, and from this point on you will remember that I own you.”

His lips hover over mine, both his large hands move up through my hair and I feel him, already hard and pressing into my abdomen.

“You may fuck me, but you’ll never own me” I test him.

Gabriel grips my hair in one large handful at the roots and tips my face back sharply for better access.

“Fucking little brat.” His deep voice makes a shiver echo up my spine.

His mouth comes down and hovers over mine, I wait, already panting because I can’t move. The way he’s wound his hands in my hair, he’d rip it from my scalp if I tried. I can only run when he releases me, and he knows it. His minty, bourbon-laced breath bleeds into me as he slides his tongue across my bottom lip. He sucks it into his mouth and then bites it hard enough to draw blood. My brain tells me it’s pain, but my body ignites, my pussy instantly throbs, and I moan into his mouth.

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