Page 71 of Craved By a Wolf

She reached the door and he roused himself, because he was damned if she was going down to help the incubi while dressed in such a provocative manner. If she wanted to punish him, she could stay here and pummel him with words and fists and magic for all he cared. Anything she wanted to throw at him, he would take.

But he couldn’t take this.

He couldn’t bear the thought of her parading around in front of sex demons dressed in such a fashion.

This punishment was too much.

Or maybe it wasn’t enough.

He had done everything wrong again, had let his instincts control him, and had driven her to do this. He had behaved exactly as she expected of an alpha wolf, acting in a domineering manner that he knew she hated. He fought to find the right words, selecting them carefully, desperate to show her that he was sorry and that he would do better, and that he didn’t want to control her.

Before he could find the words, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Don’t wait up.”

And slammed the door in his face.

Kin grabbed the handle and twisted it, determined to follow her.

Only the door wouldn’t open.

He tried again, frantically turning the knob, and then struck the door. His fist bounced right off it and hit him in the face, and he growled as light shimmered over the door. He growled and hurried to the other door, the one that led to the room where Hella had changed, only to find he couldn’t open it either. The sash windows on either side of the bed wouldn’t even let him near them.

Trapped.

His wily wee witch had used magic to trap him in this room.

And by the gods, he deserved it for how he had acted. He was no better than the nymph, believing he could just take what he wanted from Hella without any consideration for how she felt or what she wanted. No, that wasn’t true. His instincts as an alpha wolf wanted that. Not him. He pressed his hand to his chest, to the heart that ached for her to come back to him and give him another chance. This time, he would hold his tongue until he had mastered his instincts and knew the words that were going to leave his lips were ones that came from his heart.

He didn’t want to control her or make decisions for her. He wanted her to stand by his side, as his equal, exactly as she wanted. Gods, he wished he hadn’t been born a wolf or a shifter of any kind. He looked at the window to his right, making another wish—that he could speak with Gregor. Gregor would know what to do. The wolf was wise, had given him good advice, but Kin hadn’t been prepared for how strong his instincts had become the second he had joined with Hella. The urge to bite her in that moment had been strong, almost overwhelming, and it had been a constant battle to deny his instincts and focus on pleasing his female instead. It was still a constant battle to deny them.

He had to master this.

It was just another fight and he would be the victor this time too. He would tame his instincts again, as he had before, and make her see that he could be a good man. His gaze drifted around the room, moving from one magically sealed exit to the next, gaining pace as he cycled through them. He idly rubbed his chest, following the line of one scar, and breathed harder as memories surfaced. A small, weedy voice echoed in his head and he couldn’t hold back the words as his gaze settled on the door Hella had slammed in his face.

“I swear I’ll be good if you let me out, Master,” he whispered, his voice cracking as pain lanced his heart. “I’ll do better. I’ll do whatever you want. Please don’t punish me again.”

He backed towards the bed and slumped onto the end of it, all his strength leaving him as emotions whirled inside him, anger swift to rise as he realised what he had said and how desperate he felt.

How weak he was being.

Kin glared at the door, dug his claws into his knees and focused his mind, shutting out hissed words about cages and battling the tide of his memories, determined to remain lucid.

Willing his mate to return.

Chapter 22

MacKinnon had pushed her buttons and before she had known what she was doing, Hella had changed into her sexiest dress and used a spell to trap him in their room. She was going to regret that.

Already was, if she was being honest with herself.

She trudged downstairs, denying the urge to turn on her heel and go back to MacKinnon and apologise. He was the one who should be apologising to her. She pressed her lips together. Not that he could do that when he was trapped in their room.

Her steps slowed and she glanced back up the elegant staircase. Why did he have to go back to his old ways? For a moment, she had felt something had changed for the better between them, but now she could see she was mistaken. Nothing had changed. MacKinnon still had the attitude of a king, expecting her to bend to his will and do what he wanted without question, and worse, he had revealed he didn’t trust her.

She tightened her grip on the railing and sighed. Or maybe he did trust her, but his instincts didn’t. She wished she knew a shifter well enough that she could ask them about this because she needed some perspective, or at least a rough guide to dating a werewolf. A what to expect when he finds his fated female in you type thing. Someone really should have written a book about it by now. She could only imagine how many women out there were going through the same thing she was, being thrown around on a turbulent sea of emotions and not knowing whether the next wave was going to lift her up or pull her under and drown her.

His behaviour was far too unpredictable and she didn’t like it.

But then, she got the impression he didn’t like it either.

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