Page 16 of The Beast's Betrayed Mate
But he would. He couldn’t stop himself. His heart was pounding in his ears and his need was raging through his veins like a toxin that only had one cure. She could save him. She could give him an outlet. She would. She would be willing.
That thought spurred him on even harder, following the trail of scent until he finally reached the entrance to another alley. This one sandwiched between two apartment buildings, leaving the alley quiet and abandoned.
She was panting, he could hear her, and he entered the alley out of breath as well.
She had heard him approach down the L shape of the alley and her eyes met his as he rounded the corner. The alley stopped at a dead end. He could tell that she was freaking out. He could tell from her racing heart, pounding in his ears.
His wolf licked its muzzle, a soft growl rumbling through his chest, and he wanted to protest but was completely lost in the moment. He couldn’t tell if what he wanted was the reason the wolf wanted it or vice versa. She had never looked so good, smelled so good. Her hair was a mess, her chest heaving, mouth slightly open.
“Peter,” she said. “Can you change back?”
He should have words to respond with, but his mind was blank. Like white noise. Focused only on her scent in his nostrils, the beating of her heart in his ears.
“Peter…” She said the word slower this time, as though she was trying to deliberate with him. As though she knew there was deliberation needed. He was aware that his head was lowered, that he was stalking forward slowly, that he was staring. But he hadn’t realized that it would come across as such a threatening posture to her until his name left her mouth in that way. Cajoling, almost pleading.
What was she pleading for? Why did she think that he’d be able to restrain himself? Didn’t she have the worst impression of him out of anyone he’d ever met? Hadn’t he humiliated her, hurt her, and done it without ever looking back?
Except… he had looked back… And then he’d decided that the past was the past, there was nothing he could do about it, and the only way forward was to try hard at doing better. So that’s what he’d done. He’d been better. And he’d believed that he wasn’t that guy, not really, but now… Now here he was. And the animal inside of him was salivating at the thought of having her pinned underneath him.
Not because she didn’t want it, but because he could smell how much she did.
He remembered the look on her face. When he’d told her off for approaching him in public, voicing her belief that he would want to take her out. He had shot her down, shook her up. And he’d told himself it was because she needed to be woken from whatever fantasy she was indulging in when in reality…
He was the coward.
Why did she keep thinking he wasn’t the most basic kind of man?
Clearly that was exactly what he was.
The bones of his shoulders cracked first. Pushing together before folding out and he let out a growl as he tilted forward. Then his legs straightened, the joints cracking, and he tilted his head back in a slow howl. The pain was excruciating, and yet there was a hint of ecstasy in it. He shook his whole body as the fur began to itch beyond anything he could withstand, wanting it off him instinctively, and it stood like a cloud around him. When he stopped the movement, he realized he was on all fours on the ground, a human man once more while tufts of fur covered the ground around him.
He raised his head, slowly, to look at her. Then he sat back on his heels. He was wondering what she was thinking. Had she felt it, truly felt it, that same indescribable thirst that he had felt or had it all been in his head? Her heart had been skipping beats, hadn’t it? At first it had been fluttering like a caged bird and then…
Then she had wanted him to move closer, hadn’t she?
He had smelled it all over her.
“Peter?” she said again, holding one hand out.
“Yes,” he replied even though it was a stupid thing to say.
Who else would he be?
Did she think he had transformed into the wolf completely? That Peter was dead and gone?
“I’m me,” he added for good measure.
But he also wasn’t…
He was more.
He rose to his feet, and she took a step back, her shoulder blades connecting with the brick wall behind her. She was truly cornered. She could make a run for it, or perhaps she had something else heavy to throw at him, but for all intents and purposes, there was nowhere for her to run but straight at him.
And he would catch her.
Before he could barely react himself, he had crossed the distance between them. The night air was on his still heated skin. On his cock, his ass, his back and thighs. He was stark naked, and she was staring. When he was finally close to her, she shook her head. He still buried his face against her neck, feeling her tremble against him.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, one hand clasping his arm, inducive of whether to pull him to her or push him away. He could tell.
