Page 42 of Her Wolf

Its taboo nature

It took Lars about twenty minutes to find what he was looking for. By the time he got back to Cora’s room, it had transformed into party planning HQ. A laptop sat on the coffee table, two notebooks open beside with Cora’s illegible scrawl filling a page.

Even Ana was there, and she was only one that noticed he’d arrived. Her eyes darted to the rope and silk scarf dangling from his hand, and then back to him. Color painted her cheeks a moment later, and she rushed to her feet, almost knocking over Cora’s glass of wine as she brought it to her mouth for a sip.

“Ana!” Cora looked away from the computer, lifting her arms away to check if she’d gotten wine on herself.

And then she looked up and saw Lars. And her eyes darted to the rope.

“What are you—?” Cora cut off, throwing Ana a guilty look which Ana missed.

“I, uh…I’ll come back later,” Ana said hurriedly.

“But we haven’t even decided on—” Cora began, but Ana waved her hand absently behind her as she made her way past Lars with a knowing smile directed in his direction.

“We can make anything happen with enough cash,” Ana called out behind her. “Trust me.”

She winked at Lars as she turned to close the door behind her.

When he faced the room again, everyone had gone silent. Cora put her glass of wine down, her eyes flashing to the rope and back to him. “Lars, we have to—”

He tossed the rope and silk scarf onto the table, where it landed in a heap on top of her notebook.

“Get undressed.”

Cora spluttered, started to get to her feet, and then stayed seated cross-legged in front of the computer. Milo and Bailey sat on the settee behind her, and both glanced between the two as if they were watching what was turning into a very interesting tennis match.

“The longer you take, the more brutal your punishment, Princess.”

Her chest expanded how she inhaled.

Lars lifted his hand, fingers outstretched, and twisted it at the wrist. “The more you protest, the longer you’ll have to count.”

“Count?” she snapped, her voice wreathed with caution.

“Get up,” Lars said.

She glanced at Milo over her shoulder, but he just got to his feet and made his way around the settee, heading for the bathroom.

Cora threw him a pleading look. “Lars, listen, this isn’t the right—”

“Five,” he said.

“Five what?”

“Six.”

She got to her feet, but she was frowning hard. “Maybe, in an hour—”

“Seven.” He wriggled his hand again. “I’ve got a strong arm. I don’t think you’ll make it to ten.”

Realization bloomed in her eyes. “Oh no,” she said, lifting her hands as she backed up. “There’s no way—”

“Eight.” Lars pointed to the closed bathroom door. “And then Milo takes over.” He laughed. “You think I’ve got a strong arm?”

“What?” Her voice was a mixture of outrage and disbelief. “You’re joking, right? No.” She swiped her hands in the air. “You hear me? No.”

Lars ambled closer. He snatched his paraphernalia from the table and gave her a smarmy grin. “You’re forgetting something, Princess…”

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