Page 121 of Yearning For Her

The cats swiped their claws at him as he entered the bedroom. Willow backed away a step, heart racing despite feeling like it was caught in a vise. Lachlan scattered the felines with a kick and thrust out his hand, catching Willow’s wrist in an iron grip.

“No!” Willow pulled and twisted her arm, attempting to dislodge him, despite knowing her strength was nothing compared to his.

He tightened his hold, and she cried out in pain. If he exerted any more pressure, he’d crush her bones. “I command and you obey, mortal!”

Gritting her teeth against the waves of power battering her, Willow glared at him. “Fuck you.”

Lachlan yanked her hard. She collided with his body, and it was no different than running into a concrete wall. Willow grunted and reeled from the impact.

His eyes bore down into hers, brightening. “Soon.”

He dragged her out of the bedroom before she could regain her senses. The cats charged, yowling, but Lachlan slammed the bedroom door shut. There was a thump as one of the cats struck the door, followed by frenzied scratches and paws sliding underneath, their claws digging into the flooring.

“Fucking beasts nearly gave the game away.” Lachlan strode into the kitchen, tugging Willow behind him.

“What do you want?” she asked, heart pounding frantically. Her only consolation in that moment was that he hadn’t harmed the cats.

At least not yet.

“What do I want?” Lachlan laughed, drawing her to a halt.

Again, his magic surged. Willow was more aware of it than ever. Its immense force pressed down on her, pressed in around her.

He turned toward her. “It is not about what I want, mortal, but what I am owed. Respect. Reverence. You. Kneel.”

That last word rippled in her mind, echoing and building upon itself in a twisted, amplified version of what Kian had done in the nightclub. But she’d experienced such magic before that night, hadn’t she? When she’d first encountered Lachlan, he’d used his voice in the same way. It had been subtle, seductive, and persuasive. And she’d been unable to resist.

Never again.

Willow held his gaze. “No.”

He bared his fangs, and the unnatural pressure in the air around Willow intensified. With a furious snarl, he shoved her onto one of the stools at the island counter. Her back struck the counter’s edge. She grunted as she teetered, nearly falling off the stool, but she caught herself by slapping a hand down on the counter, inadvertently sending one of the flower-filled vases crashing to the floor.

Lachlan’s merciless fingers clutched her jaw, and he forced her face up toward his as he leaned over her. His claws bit into her cheeks, pricking her flesh. Willow hissed against the pain. She reached up and grasped his arm to pull it away, but it didn’t budge.

“I’m not surprised that he didn’t mark you. He’s never been one to obey, even when his rebelliousness might cost him everything. And he’s always been soft. Weak. Too weak to embrace his potential.” He strengthened his grip, making her eyes burn with tears. “But this…”

He lowered his face, brushing his nose across her cheek as he inhaled, and stopped when his lips were beside her ear. “I smell him on you, mortal, and I sense him in you. Not only has he disrespected me, but he’s insulted our very species. Instilling his lifeforce in a human…it is an affront to everything our people are.”

Lachlan lifted his head and shifted his thumb, dragging his claw along her cheek. Stinging heat trailed in its wake. Willow’s breath hitched, and she felt blood trickle from the wound.

“Still”—he retraced the cut with the pad of his thumb, gathering her blood—“you are rather delicious.” Lachlan slid his thumb between his lips, sucking the crimson off its tip.

He groaned as he pulled it free. “The taste of your fear is exquisite. I think—”

Lachlan’s brows fell, and his eyes narrowed. He turned her head to examine her cheek. At the edge of her vision, she saw the sinister light in his eyes grow, saw his mouth stretch into a wide grin. When he trailed his thumb over the cut again, she felt only a whisper of the sting, the heat, the sensation barely more noticeable than the stickiness of her own blood and the roughness of his skin.

Lachlan hummed with delight that made her stomach churn. “Intriguing. I’ve never had the opportunity to play with a mortal who healed so quickly. Your kind usually break so easily. Perhaps this will be more entertaining than I’d anticipated… Kian will be put in his place, and I’ll have a new toy for the foreseeable future.

“I’d planned to add you to my collection regardless, but this”—he dragged his tongue up her cheek, making Willow cringe—“will make you the most unique addition.”

Chest heaving, Willow yanked her face away. The movement caused his claws to scratch her, triggering fresh agony, but she barely noticed. She clenched her jaw. Fear thrummed inside her, chilling her bones but making her skin hot. She understood what Lachlan was doing. He was feeding on her fear, on her pain, just like Kian had said.

So she reached inside herself, down past that fear, and latched onto the emotion smoldering at her core—anger. All the anger she’d never let herself embrace while she’d struggled, when she’d been put down and rejected, all the anger she’d bottled up from feeling unwanted and being cast aside, it all rose to the surface. It was bolstered by her anger at Lachlan’s assault and his stealing of her choice, at him seeing her as an object to do with as he pleased.

But stronger than all that was her anger at having finally found happiness only for this asshole to barge in and try to take it away.

Lachlan chuckled and stepped away from her, approaching the knife block beside the sink. He drew the largest knife in the set. The sound of metal scraping against wood was thunderous in the otherwise silent room.

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