Page 29 of Grace of a Wolf 1
I force my fingers to loosen, but they tighten again of their own accord when she shifts against me. The soft curves of her body press closer, and my blood burns hotter. "It's your fault. You're pushing these feelings through our bond."
Am I? Then why does your skin crawl every time you catch his scent on her?
"Shut up."
Why does your hand keep sliding higher up her thigh?
"I said, shut up." But he's right. My palm has crept up, fingers spread possessively across her flesh, my fingers just inches from a warm and welcoming heat. I jerk my hand back down, cursing when she almost slides off my shoulder.
Face it. You feel it too.
"What I feel is irritation at being stuck with your new toy."
She's not a toy.
I scoff. "Then what is she?"
You know what she is. You've known since you first caught her scent.
Denial courses through me, and I growl, "Don't even think it."
Why not? Because she's human? Or because you're afraid?
My fingers flex against her thigh again. "She's human. It's impossible."
Then explain why every inch of you rebels against another wolf's claim on her.
I can't. I can't explain why my skin feels too tight, why my blood burns, why I want to hunt down whoever touched her and tear out his throat. I can't explain why her scent calls to me even as it repulses me, why my hands keep wandering, why everything in me screamsmine.
She's just a human.
Chapter thirteen
Grace: Kidnapped
My head throbs with each pulse of my heart and my stomach churns. A sharp ache shoots through my shoulders as consciousness creeps back. My wrists burn, bound tight behind my back; whatever's holding me captive bites into my wrists. There's a gag binding my mouth, and it takes everything in me not to panic and try to shove it out with my tongue; I can breathe, but it feels like I can't.
Aside from some chirping from birds, there's no other sound to be heard.
I open my eyes to look around.
Still in the forest—somewhere. Dawn's covered the area in a soft haze, the grass misted over. I should be cold, but something warm is covering me.
A quick glance tells me it's a giant black tail.
Heat radiates against my back, and the hint of ethereal light tells me exactly who the massive tail belongs to. Each breath he takes lifts my body slightly where I'm pressed against his side.
My furry captor sleeps curled around me like some kind of protective barrier. The irony would be funny if I wasn't tied up.
Damn it. I thought he was my friend, and he betrayed me. This is why you don't go around picking up strays.
The events of last night crash back in a flood; the serial killer/Lycan King/weird stranger with tattoos isn't around, but he's clearly not worried about me getting away.
Arms bound behind my back, gag in mouth, and giant wolf on guard, even if he's asleep. Check, check, and check. There's no escape in my future, but I test the ropes anyway, unsurprised when they don't budge. The more I struggle, the tighter they become, cutting off circulation to my fingers.
The wolf's twitches, and a soft whine escapes his throat. Whatever he's dreaming about has his massive paws twitching against the ground.
My shoulders scream as I try to sit up, stiff and aching from my position on the ground. The movement pulls at muscles I didn't know existed. The gag muffles my groan of pain.
