Page 285 of Rage

Shame starts to trickle in, shoving at that rage blazing through my system, and part of me wants to let it. To just layhere and let Drake do whatever he wants. This has always been my destiny. If it wasn’t him, it would have been Hurst.

“Oh, you didn’t hear me?” Drake asks, pulling his pants down and dragging his cock out of his briefs. “I called you a mutt. Dirty half-breed that you are.”

I take a deep breath, my vision starting to blur and turn a nasty reddish hue.

“What? Don’t like that word? It’s just the truth, Ivy. You’re not worth much aside from your womb. You can’t shift, you can’t run a hunt, you can’t rule over a pack. So your best bet is to hope your mediocre genetics can produce a full-wolf offspring.”

“Then why the fuck do you want me?” I ask, my teeth gritted together to hold my rage at bay.

Drake kneels on the bed in front of me, unable to keep the grin off his face. He reaches forward and swipes his fingers across my opening, gathering my glistening release on the tips and showing it to me. “You’re more than ready for my knot. And to answer your question, I want you because you’re domesticated.”

My fingers ache, and I’m aware those claws that sprouted before are coming back. It may not be much, but I lean into that burning feeling radiating through every pore, every fiber of my being. Even if it’s just claws, maybe it can help me right now.

“Domesticated?” I spit, barely able to let up on the pressure of my teeth pressing together.

Drake rolls his eyes. “Docile. Disciplined. Broken. What fucking word do you want to use, Ivy? That’s what the Forrester pack told me, and it’s clear as day on your face and the scars across your body. You’re no feral wolf.”

You’re broken, Ivy. There’s nothing more I can do.

My mother’s words swirl in my brain. Her last words.

The look Drake gives me is one of pure and utter disgust and disdain.

My brain spins, my body vacillating between numb and excruciating pain.

“You’re tame,” Drake seethes.

My vision goes fully red at that statement. Memories of Hurst, Acton, and Garrett collide in some sickening nightmare with my mother. One that makes my stomach churn with nausea.

I tamed you, Ivy Allaway.

Broken.

Tame.

The muscles throughout my body ripple, causing an aching pain that won’t let up. Sweat beads along my forehead, running along my temples in rivulets much faster than they should be. The anger and irritation that radiate from Drake shifts like a sudden drop in temperature, and all I smell is confusion.

“What’s wrong with you?”

That pain ratchets up about a thousand notches, my spine feeling as though it’s being stretched beyond what it can bear, my face cracking as if all the bones are breaking and reforming. But it’s not until I glance over and see that the claws I’m sprouting are not just claws, but full-blown paws, that it registers with me.

I’m shifting.

Drake stumbles back from the bed. “Y—you can’t shift! You’re a mutt!”

The howl that erupts from my muzzle begs to differ, and I yank at the restraints, snapping them with ease.

I can see that Drake is about to shift, his claws pricking at his skin, his nose stretching out, and I lunge. I lunge with all the force I have in me. With all the anger I feel in this moment.

The rage.

My paws slam into Drake’s chest, and we both go crashing to the ground. He’s not stopping though, and I know I only havemoments to get him before his shift takes over. So, I don’t think. Just like that day back home.

I bend down, using my canines to tear through his jugular. Ripping through skin as my maw sinks into his flesh, and as I yank my head back, I hear muscles tear and tendons snap while his warm blood floods my mouth, dripping from my jowls and coating my golden fur in a deep shade of burgundy.

Drake’s body stills beneath me, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion overtakes my entire being. I slump to the ground and immediately black out, hoping beyond hope that Ewan and Florian are still alive.

Chapter Eleven

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