Page 62 of Scarred Savages
I’m drowning in sensation, in the heat and hardness of him. My hands fist in his shirt, anchoring myself as he ravages me.
Just as abruptly, he rips his mouth away. We’re both panting. His eyes blaze into mine, wild and feral.
“Soon,” he promises. Then he steps back, leaving me reeling. “That’s enough for today. We should head back before they come looking.”
I nod mutely, not trusting my voice. My legs feel like jelly as I push off the trunk. Axel’s already striding ahead, waiting for me to catch up. I take a deep breath and stumble after him.
As we near the house from the back, I spot Damien by the basement doors, overseeing a few men loading what looks like guns out of crates.
Shit. Did he see us?
And why so many guns?
Guess our little training session wasn’t so private after all.
I brace myself for a confrontation, but Damien just sneers and stalks inside, slamming the door behind him.
Axel chuckles. “Looks like someone’s jealous. Can’t say I blame him. If I had to watch you like this and not touch? I’d lose my fucking mind.”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Shut up. It’s not like that. Damien hates me.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Wildcat. Damien wants you the same as the rest of us. He’s just too fucking stubborn to admit it.”
No way.
He’s made it abundantly clear that he barely tolerates my presence.
But I can’t deny the tension between us, the way his gaze scorches me when he thinks I’m not looking. The bathroom incident flashes through my mind, and I feel my cheeks heat further.
Axel’s gaze cuts to the crates Damien’s men are hauling, and a feral grin spreads across his face. “Well, well. Looks like we got some new toys.”
He jogs toward the group, calling over his shoulder, “Wanna come see, Wildcat?”
I shake my head.
“Hey,” I call out to him. “What’s up with the guns?”
He shoots me a sly grin. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me with nothing but questions and my tangled thoughts.
18
Luna
Notebook: The best listeners show up uninvited, stay quiet through your entire breakdown, and never once suggest therapy. Probably because they can’t actually speak.
Ibalance the laundry basket on my hip, humming as I make my way to Oli’s bedroom. Doing chores for a pack of wolf-shifters wasn’t exactly on my vision board, but it’s better than the flesh market, and the guys aren’t so bad.
I guess we all have responsibilities here. And, I must say, I much prefer this to Ethan’s responsibility, which seems to be mostly cooking and whatever Damien and Axel are doing. I often find them dirty and bloody when they come home.
Oli was supposed to be on house duty with me today, but my so-called partner is missing, so I have the entire house to myself.
He had told me not to bother cleaning his room—he’d do it himself—but I figured I’d surprise him.
“Oli?” I call out, even though I know he’s not here.
The door swings open to reveal a surprisingly tidy room.
