Page 43 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
“Thank God.” Her voice is muffled against my chest. “I kept thinking… What if he could actually take it? What if there really was some clause I didn’t know about?”
“Hey.” I tip her chin up to meet my eyes. “Even if there was, you’re safe now. The farm is yours, free and clear. No one can take it from you.”
She nods, but I can still smell the lingering anxiety on her skin, mixed with something else. Something that makes my nostrils flare.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s just…” She hesitates, her fingers twisting in my shirt. “When Craig was making those threats, all I could think about was you. How much I needed you. How much I needed…”
“Needed what?”
Her cheeks flush pink. “To feel like I belong to someone who won’t let me be hurt.”
Her words stop me cold, something tight and fierce twisting in my chest as the meaning settles in. The scent of her arousal is stronger now, but underneath it I can detect something else: vulnerability, need, the desire to be claimed and protected.
“I can smell how much you want this,” I growl, unable to hide my hunger. “But you’re scared too.”
“Of course I’m scared.” Her laugh is shaky. “I’ve never… God, Raphael, look at you. Look at the size of you.”
I start to pull back, but she grabs my shirt, holding me close.
“I didn’t say I wanted you to stop.”
“Frankie…”
“I’m tired of being afraid.” Her hands slide up to cup my face, fingers brushing the base of my horns. “I’m tired of everyone else deciding what’s good for me, what I can handle. I want you to show me what it means to be yours.”
The beast in me responds to her words with a surge of possessive hunger so strong it makes me dizzy. She’s asking me to claim her, to take her virginity, to make her mine.
“I need this, Raphael,” she says, her eyes locked with mine. “Now. I’m ready.”
“You belong to me.” The words come out as a snarl, and I see her pupils dilate in response.
Then she says the words that will undo me. “Make me yours, then.”
Chapter 14
Claiming What's His
Frankie
The weight of everything that’shappened recently settles over me as I lead Raphael upstairs, my hand clasped firmly in his massive one. Craig’s threats, the legal challenge, the way Raphael handled it all with such calculated intelligence instead of the violence everyone expects from him… It’s proven something to me that I’ve been feeling but couldn’t quite articulate.
I trust him completely.
Not just with my body, though the thought of what we’re about to do makes my pulse race. I trust him with my heart, my future, my grandmother’s legacy. He paid off my farm without expecting anything in return, put himself in the uncomfortable position of asking Lysander for help, all to protect me.
Now I want to give him something. I want to give him everything.
As we reach the bedroom, he turns to face me, his dark eyes drinking me in like he’s cataloging every freckle, every tremor, every sign of want or hesitation, and under that unwavering stare my chest tightens until I can barely breathe. There’s no hesitation in his gaze now, no careful restraint. Just raw hunger barely held in check.
“I need you to understand,” he begins, his voice dropping to that deep register that makes my knees weak. “Once I have you like this, there’s no going back. You’ll be mine in every way that matters.”
“Good,” I whisper, reaching up to brush my fingers along the base of his horns. “I want to be yours.”
The kiss that follows is different from all the others—hungrier, more desperate, weighted with the knowledge of what’s coming. His massive hands frame my face as his tongue explores my mouth, and I can taste the brandy from his meeting with Lysander, along with something darker and more primal.
When we break apart, I see the predatory satisfaction in his posture, the way he’s looking at me like I’m something he’s going to devour.
