Page 25 of In Your Eyes
It wasn’t a matter of strength. Without releasing my grasp on Korban, I looked him over. He was taller than my own five feet, eleven inches, but only by an inch or two. Our builds were similar: both muscular but in a lanky way, not bulky. His hair was still golden, his skin fair and freckled, both of which made him look the part of an innocent angel rather than a strong Alpha. His blue eyes, though… they were all steely strength. Nobody could underestimate him if they were looking in his eyes.
But strength wasn’t enough for a man whose hands were bound behind his back and who was facing not only one shifter, but a dozen. Korban wouldn’t leave our land alive and he had to know that, and yet he looked peaceful, unafraid. He didn’t argue, didn’t fight, didn’t beg. He simply stood and stared at me, patiently waiting for something, and I found myself desperately trying to figure out what it was. Once again, Korban Keller had me unbalanced. It was just like when we were kids.
“Quit stalling,Alpha,” Rick said, managing to turn what should have been an honorific into a barb.
A couple of the younger men, who I knew were his friends, snickered. They were sons of some of my father’s friends, and I wondered what they thought. I wondered what my father would have thought.
“I told you he was off,” Rick whispered.
I had great hearing, so I had no problem making out his words, which I was about to point out when Bradley Griffin, one of his friends, answered, his voice even lower but still audible enough for my ears to pick up. “I think he’s scared.”
“How can he lead us if he’s too scared to take on a guy who’s all tied up?” said Damon Huntsworth, the third man my age.
I was confused by Korban’s lack of reaction and frustrated by the insults from the men my age. But what put me over the edge were the expressions on the faces of my father’s friends. My father had looked at me the same way when I couldn’t understand his lessons: sad, disappointed, and worried.
“Let’s end this,” I barked, not sure if I was referring to their doubts, to my confusion, or to Korban’s life. Maybe it was all three.
My father would have reminded me about empathy and compassion. He would have said I had to be flexible and adjust to what was going on around me. But I wasn’t my father and I didn’t know how to do those things.
So instead, I jerked the arm I was holding, and Korban followed me without a word. When we reached the center of the yard, I put my hand on his shoulder and shoved him down. Once again, he complied easily, lowering himself to his knees without protest.
Until that point, my body had been fighting with my brain. My instincts had been telling me something was wrong, that I had to stop. My brain had been saying I had to extract vengeance, had to gain the respect of my pack. And then in that confusing moment, with my father’s friends behind me, looking hopeful, and the men my age beside me, waiting to see if I could prove my strength, Korban bowed his head, revealing his long, smooth neck.
Without further pause or thought, I snapped and lunged forward, burying my canines in his skin. It wasn’t the way I had planned it. I had intended to demolish my tribute while in my wolf form, using my claws and teeth and animal strength. Blood and screams wouldn’t hound my wolf; that part of me would appreciate the hunt. As I licked hot skin and swallowed Korban’s life essence, my head cleared and realizations came into focus.
I hadn’t bitten his jugular, but had instead landed with my teeth in the spot where his neck met his shoulder.
He hadn’t screamed.
We were both in our human forms.
And I was aroused, so very aroused. My veins strummed and my cock throbbed. That was wrong. No matter how good and right it felt, it had to be wrong. I had to stop, had to pull away from him, had to gain control of myself. But before I could, pure pleasure flowed from my mouth to my chest to my groin, and I spilled myself in my pants.
As soon as I realized what had happened, I leaped up. Korban slumped forward and collapsed onto the grass, his body curled into a ball, his hands still bound behind his back. For one horrible, terrifying moment, I thought I killed him.
Why I was relieved when I noticed movement in his back and realized he was breathing, I couldn’t say. He was a blood tribute. I was supposed to kill him.
What I wasn’t supposed to do was pierce his skin with my mouth in my human form.
What I wasn’t supposed to do was enjoy his flavor on my tongue.
What I wasn’t supposed to do was cum in my pants from the pleasure those things brought me.
I was a monster; a true monster. “Put him in the workshop,” I rasped, pointing to a building behind the house where my father kept his tools and lumber. “Nobody else touch him.”
Before anybody could argue, I turned on my heel and ran into the forest. I couldn’t control my temper, couldn’t control my body, couldn’t control my thoughts, but I could still enjoy the scents and sounds of nature. I could still run.
Chapter 9
IFLEDthe scene I’d created in my own backyard and managed to reach the trees before shifting into my wolf. Before I’d been forced to lock my wolf down, shifting into my animal form had been my favorite way to relax. I loved feeling the wind in my fur and the soil under my paws. I loved the respite from doubts and pressures. And I loved the freedom to run.
With my wolf finally in control, my logical mind whispered that I’d never return. In that form I always ran away from our pack lands, even back when I had a family to come home to. Without my father, mother, and siblings waiting for me in Yafenack, I had no reason to go back.
Except this time, I didn’t run away, or at least I didn’t run far. I was still within our pack lands when I veered left instead of continuing straight. That path took me in a circle, not returning home, but not straying far from it, either. Around I went, racing against the confusing feelings within myself but unable to escape them.
Instead of easing my tension, the shift seemed to exacerbate it. My wolf was restless, needy, panicked. Something was missing, and because I didn’t know what it was, I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. The only thing I could do was run faster and harder and hope I could escape myself.
But then I heard a yelp. I skidded to a halt, lifted my chin, and perked my ears up. The sound came again, raising my hairs on end. That was Korban Keller. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did.
