Page 41 of Scarred Savages
There’s a momentary silence, then Axel barks a laugh.
“Well, well, well.” He moves towards us. “Did Grumpy make a move?”
“That’s none of your business,” I say.
“Oh, but it is,” Axel purrs. “Everything about you is my business, Wildcat.”
“Back off, Axel,” Hudson says.
Axel raises his hands in mock surrender, but that wicked grin doesn’t falter. “Just marking what’s mine, that’s all. I’ve got plenty of shirts if you want to contaminate those too, wildcat.”
My wolf perks at his words, traitor, like shelikesthe idea. I shove the thought down hard.
“I’m not yours,” I say, lifting my chin. “I’m not anyone’s.”
“Not yet,” he replies with a wink.
“Do I need to remind everyone about the rules?” Hudson says.
“What rules?” I challenge. “I’m here to service you all, aren’t I?”
Something flashes in Hudson’s eyes. “Not without—”
“It was consensual,” I cut him off, meeting his gaze steadily. “Satisfied?”
Hudson nods once. But his jaw is tight.
“Take it off,” Damien snarls once more. The dude’s practically vibrating; he’s so angry.
“What’s the big deal? It was clean and smelled like fabric softener.”
“Luna,” Ethan interjects, his voice calm, “you haven’t shifted yet, so your nose isn’t as sharp as ours. Scent is everything to us, and wearing someone else’s clothes… means something.”
Heat floods my cheeks.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Damien’s still glaring, his chest heaving. “Take. It. Off.”
Fine.
If he wants to be a dick about it. My pride won’t let me back down. If he wants a show, fine, I’ll give him one.
I grab the hem and yank the shirt over my head in one swift motion. I ball it up and chuck it at his face.
“There. Happy now?” I snap, standing in my ratty sports bra and leggings.
The room goes silent, and I can feel their eyes roving over me, leaving heat trails along my skin.
Damien catches the shirt, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. His eyes dilate, pupils blown wide. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he might lunge. Instead, he regains his composure, places the tee in his gym bag, and strides towards the punching bag.
“Well,” Axel drawls, breaking the tension. “That was fun?”
I let out a shaky breath, suddenly feeling very exposed.
“Wildcat, you’re toned as fuck,” he says approvingly, licking his lips—something I try very hard to ignore. “Bet you’d look even better with some blood on you.”
“I trained at the institute. Every day.”
