Page 68 of Wolf

My feet ache, the fading bruises still pulse beneath my skin but more importantly, I consider what brought me here. Darcy…

“Hey, sexy.”

The voice brings me around and reaching for the only thing I can find which happens to be a white T-shirt at the end of the bed, I slip it on before tiptoeing to the door.

“Toni? What are you doing here?” Wolf’s deep voice rumbles.

“I thought since you’re here…” the woman says, and I frown at her husky tone.

“Now is not a good time,” he grunts.

Now? But later maybe? My pulse skyrockets and pain shoots up my clenched jaw as I wrench open the door.

Wolf, who’s standing by the front door in nothing but jeans, unbuttoned no less, swings my way. His little tart follows, and I raise a brow.

“Lil—“ he manages to say before I slam the door and lean against it.

What am I doing here? Shoot.

With rage dancing along my skin, I search for the clothes I came in but they’re not here, nor is my backpack.

Fine. After slipping on my shoes, I grab my necklace. I’ll find somewhere else to sell the dang thing.

“What are you doing?” Wolf barks and I turn to him, raising my chin.

“Leaving.”

“What?” He steps into the room and shuts the door.

Grimacing, I stalk toward him and grit through my teeth, “You need your space. I’m going.”

“I don't think you understand,” he rumbles, and I feel my right eye twitch.

“No? I think it’s pretty clear.”

“Baby girl,” he says in a warning tone.

I avert my gaze, sneering, “Get out of my way.”

“No.”

“No?” I screech.

“Nope,” he drawls, and I meet his gaze.

He raises a brow, and I slam my fist into his chest, which doesn’t move him at all but stings like crazy. Annoyed with his hard rock pecs and the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, I say, “I’m not staying here.”

“I thought you understood, but maybe I need to spell it out for you?”

“What?” I growl, poking him again. He catches my hand and presses the palm against his warm skin. Of course, my traitorous fingers tingle.

“I told you,” he says, tracing a finger down my cheek, “what would happen if you came back.”

“Huh?” I mumble. Confused, I meet his glittering gaze, and he grabs my chin, saying, “You're mine now.”

“I’m sorry. What?” Although the possessive tone makes me warm. I’m not a thing. He can’t own me.

“You tempt the patience of a saint. And I ain’t no saint.”

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