Page 83 of Purchased

I take to pacing around the grounds in an effort to keep myself from going mad with stillness. I am attempting to plan what my response should be when I see her again, but my mind and heart are being pulled in too many directions all at once.

“Hey!”

Beatrix pops up out of a bush, covered in dirt, a broad smile on her face. “How much fun was that! I never thought I’d get to hide bodies from the police before. And you took care of them so well. Took them on a little tour of the train, wined and dined them. I’m so proud of you.”

She gives me that little speech, including the part where she tells me that she is proud of me without so much as a hint of irony. She’s talking full speed, not only not afraid of what has happened, but entirely thrilled by it.

I stare at the woman I love, and I realize in this moment that my young mate is completely out of control. Worse, she hasmeout of control. Before I met the love of my life, I never lied to homicide detectives. I never worried about the location of bodies. I drove my train around the countryside and I enjoyed the company of my pack mates and I completely failed to appreciate the true joy of being an alpha without this intimate responsibility.

I grab her and I hug her tightly, smacking her ass at the same time hard enough to make her yelp. “I love you so much, but you are in more trouble than you can imagine.”

“Calm down. It’s not that bad.”

Nobody in life has ever been calmed by being told to calm down. I am no exception to the rule. I carry her inside, keeping her held tight as I go. I never want to let her go.

“You’re not used to being in trouble,” Beatrix says. “That’s your problem. You freak out because you’re used to being in charge.”

“Alright. Enough.”

“Do you want to know what I did with them? They were a little gross. Inedible.”

I take her straight to my room, of course, and put her directly into the bath, not even bothering to remove her clothing. She is a filthy mess, and now, having carried her, so am I. I strip my outer clothes off to get the fetid stench of the dead off me, and with my mate sitting in the tub, I take the handheld showerhead and proceed to douse her with enough water to get the worst of the dirt off.

“Hey! This is not how baths work, you know.”

She’s in a very good mood, and in spite of my sternness, so am I. The relief of having her back in my care, entirely intact, is huge. If I never take my eyes off her again, I will be happy.

“You smell like dead things. Those clothes are ruined.”

“Well, you try digging up corpses and coming back smelling nice!”

She’s absolutely incorrigible, and not sorry at all. What does she have to feel sorry about? From her perspective she’s fixed a problem, again.

Tiring of being showered in her attire, she strips her filthy clothes off and drops them outside the tub, her curvy body now completely bare as she starts to soap herself down. The cleaner she gets, the hotter she gets, until I can barely think, because all I want to do is bend her over the tub and spank and fuck that ass of hers until she’s sore and sorry.

She giggles as she takes in my expression. “You always try to fight your instincts, Armand. Why don’t you just follow them for once?”

“If I was going to follow my instincts, you’d have my cock deep inside your ass.”

She blushes.

“If I was going to follow my instincts, I’d fuck your ass, then put you down in the dungeon for a good year or two, teach you a lesson about being a decent member of society, and then, when you’d learned it, I’d fuck a baby into you.”

“Christ, Armand…”

“That’s what you’re looking at,” I tell her. “That’s the truth of me. That I don’t trust you out of my sight, and I’m starting to think you’d make a very cute little captive fuck bride.”

I reach for her hair and fist it in my hand, wet locks easy to grasp as I free my cock and start to pleasure myself the way I need to. Her body is going to give me release for all the tension she built up in me.

Pulling her dripping from the bath, I bend her forward against the wall and start fucking her with long, claiming strokes. I was so fucking scared I had lost her, and here she is, unharmed, soaked for me, willing to take my cock, hungry for another breeding.

“You’re such a naughty, perfect… God, I love you,” I say, leaning over her body, reaching around to toy with her clit as I push her closer up to the wall little by little until I am fucking her up against it, lifting her up so I can go as deep inside her as I can go, using every bit of her, feeling every bit of her, claiming her from her wild behavior and putting her back under my protection.

She enjoys every moment, arching back against me, her head on my shoulder, her pussy locked tight around my cock as she comes and my knot forms and we fall into a cascade of pleasure.

“There’s something wrong with you,” she grins afterward, when we are toweled and clean and in bed like civilized people. “I like it.”

I pull her close and agree. There is something wrong with me. But there’s something deeply wrong with her too. Between the two of us, we are barely making a single emotional person.

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