Page 53 of The Weakest Wolf

I shake my head. “I’m not ready to let go of her,” I murmur. “I can’t.”

My wolf doesn’t snarl or growl at me as he would have before. It’s the sum of our relationship now. I do something he doesn’t like, he snarls, he pushes me to claim Sierra as ours, and I snarl back. But for now, he’s silent.

As I stand in the middle of the bedroom, naked, water dripping from my wet body, Sierra’s scent wraps around me, stirring my erection back to life again.

How can I want two women in such different ways?

The second I gazed into her eyes, I knew what she was. Submissive wolf. It never crossed my mind that she would be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met in my life.

I thought a day, maybe two, would be more than enough to wear her down. Then, I’d be on my way to wherever Eden had run to.

But I’m still here, and Sierra is no closer to telling me anything. When I remember the defiance in her eyes, I wonder if she ever will.

She had tears in her eyes when she lifted the glass of water and pulled on her ribs.Actual tears. Even then, she denied she was in pain.

What submissive would do that?

As I dry myself, I weigh up my options.

I could tell her I’m here for revenge, that I want to help Eden. But that would mean telling her why. It would mean telling her about Melody.

“So just force her. Don’t give her a choice.”

I’ve held back, and maybe it’s time that I stop. Maybe it’s time I showed her what it means to go toe-to-toe with an alpha.

Decision made, I pull a pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt from my duffel before quickly dressing. The sooner I get this over with, the better. I step into my boots and stalk out of the bedroom.

Less than a minute later, I’m marching toward her cabin.

I’ll use force if necessary.

My wolf won’t like it, but it’s not like he can stop me. No one can.

Sierra Stone won’t know what’s hit her. She’ll be begging to tell me where Eden is before I’m done with her.

Her cabin door is still hanging on its hinges. I push it open and step inside.

She’s on her hands and knees with a sponge in one hand and a bowl of soapy water beside her. That’s when I remember what the pack did to her cabin.

A quick peek over her shoulder and she gets right back to cleaning the carpet.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl.

“What does it look like?” She growls back.

I stare at her back.

Nothing survived the damage the pack did here, which means, other than my long sleeve black top she’s wearing, she has nothing.

How could you have forgotten that when you snarled at her to get out?

“You have broken ribs,” I snap.

“Thanks for reminding me,” she responds, still scrubbing. “I was on my way to forgetting.”

The longer I watch her scrubbing at the piss stains on the carpet, the more my anger builds. “There have to be empty cabins. Use one of them.”

“This one is mine.”

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