His hand disappears into my skirt and my eyes close, a harsh breath leaving my lips as his warm fingers trace the outline of my underwear.Slowly, he tortures me, playing between my thighs, but not quite where I want him. I'm long gone from the meeting and I'm drifting on a different plane.Skilled fingers shift my panties aside and...I sigh, fingers curling into tight fists.Each breath is faint, and my eyes unseeing. The first stroke of his finger has my nipples tightening, and a moan threatens to escape my throat. I shove it down, even as I part my thighs, allowing him more access up my skirt. The clients carry on with the presentation, oblivious to Sin's fingers plunging into my wet sex in a slow torturous motion. In, out, in, deeper, out. My entire world has been reduced to those motions, and my claws jut in and out at the loss of control.I feel eyes on me, and I turn to find El watching. My expression is that of boredom, having taken years to master it, but so
Rip. Snap. Breathe.My tie comes off in shredded pieces, buttons flying as I try to do just that. Breathe. Nothing works. A low growl rumbles in my chest, my hands clenching the edge of the sink. My vision darkens. My teeth aches as they stretch and retract. The mirror reflects a pair of feral eyes staring back at me.My fist lashes out, smashing the glassy surface. Breathe.I can't fucking breathe. Agony like fire courses through my back, and I collapse onto the cold, hard tiles, baying. Not now, I growl inwardly, but Sable has always had a mind of his own, never submitting, always raging and fighting for control. It makes it that much harder to stay in human form. I'm more Lycan than man. I will always be. It doesn't matter how long I walk in human clothing or skin. I'll always be more of a simple minded beast than the complex creatures that humans are, indulging my basest desires without restrictions.And now, that decision is to run wild in my damned of
SinclairLong lashes flutter, revealing the cerulean depths that have ensnared my thoughts. As a wet, golden strand of hair tickles her nose, her delicate fingers instinctively sweep it aside, those perfectly sculpted lips parting in a sigh that brushes against the edges of my consciousness.My gaze remains fixed, eyes tracing every contour of her form, tracking every movement.She is unaware of my presence. She'd cursed me to hell if she knew I was watching her wipe the water off her naked body, but how could I not when she is the epicenter of my obsession?I'm perched on the rooftop of the home opposite hers. If she cared enough to look out the window, she'd find me. I'm almost tempted to toss a rock into her room to announce my presence. She looks quite fetching when she's mad.I dropped her off not long ago, leaving her with a chaste kiss to the cheek. My dick tightens in my pants when I recall her soft fingers cupping my cheek as she returned the soft kiss.Flying fuck,
Sin's mad and I don't know why.I swear, if he slams that door one more time, I might just lose it. The tension's so thick you could cut it with a knife. He's been on edge all morning, snapping at everyone, and when I say everyone, I mean mostly me. Especially me.And it's seriously beginning to get on my nerves. I've had to discard three cups of coffee, remake these damn proposals more times than I can count. And the infuriating part? There's nothing wrong with them. It's like he's just nitpicking for the sake of it. My patience is wearing thin. Then he'd had me go purchase a new set of wedding rings for the stupid wedding. Didn't even look me in the eye as he gave me his black card and said, She likes the stones huge.Mother fucker."Make it fucking black, Ms. Sullivan. This isn't some presentation for a fucking princess tea-party."That's it. I've hit my limit. I slam the mouse into the table and whirl around to face him. "Okay, what the fuck is your problem?"He blinks at me
Ithaca.Ray got me tickets yesterday after a long, heart to heart—which was mostly me crying and trying to explain what the word Erasthai meant. As well as where I came from. She’d looked at me like I had another head the entire time.She didn’t say I was crazy. She didn’t need to. Her expression spoke volumes on what she chose to believe. That there are no other realms that exist other than this one and I had loose screws in my head.I told her about Alaric too.It was then she had called back home and asked her mother if I could stay with her and her siblings for a couple of weeks. . .or months. Until I was fine again. Until I could keep it together. Until I was healed enough to come back. Until I could hear HIS name without feeling Ezra’s pain that has me in such pain, I can’t breathe or function when she wails for what is lost.I don’t think I’ll ever be fine, but I didn’t tell Ray that. Her mother hadn’t objected and I could’ve sworn the woman even sounded excited about having me
SinclairDead?As if.I don't dance with death. That word doesn't apply to me. Two days, that's how long I've been out, thanks to a bunch of lackeys who thought their ashen bullets could end me. Pinned down, they thought they'd scored. I call it a temporary inconvenience. Those bullets, they only pissed me off. The fool, Alaric, had taunted me with the word 'pup', but deep down, he recognized what I was; acknowledged it.I'm the apex, and I would raze this world if I needed to, to keep my mate. He'd seen it that night and had known to prepare for it, taking me by surprise.It's the only reason they left there alive.I awoke this morning to find the only family I have ever truly known hovering at what was meant to be my death bed, poking at the sore spots on my skin that were slowly healing due to the ash in my blood. They'd poked at it until I'd shot out of bed, snarling.Sam and Naomi had taken out the bullets. All sixteen of them and my body had needed to rest to heal. I
GinevraThe wedding's tomorrow.I've been locked up in Alaric's home for two days. He has my foot chained to his bed, and my hands cuffed apart.Why?Because the moment I'd awoken to him trying to touch me, I fought like a cornered animal, desperate to rip him apart.I'm only let out of the chains when I need to attend to my needs, and even then, on the first day, I tried more times than I can remember to jump through the window, after knocking out the guards he'd sent to watch me.It had earned me being thrown into his room with windows too little for even my arm to go through, and shorter chains.But that was a day ago, before he'd returned with the news of Sinclair's death. I didn't want to believe him, until he'd dumped Sinclair's bloodied shirt in my bed as a souvenir. At first, I'd been consumed by hysteria and grief. I'd screamed for hours until I'd lost my voice, cursing my existence, making demands that he kill me so I could die as well.I didn't think I cared enough,
I stare at nothing in particular as my father and Alaric make arrangements for tomorrow. My fingers are folded neatly in my lap, a picture of subservience. My gaze drifts between the Lycan King Fenrir, and Alaric. I wonder which of them is the lesser evil.Alaric who ruined my life, or the King who would have forced his son spend the rest of his life with a woman he didn’t love. Said woman is me. Rune, my ex, is the Lycan King’s son, and the only heir to the throne. We might have married, were it not for Rune’s last minute epiphany to dump me at the altar.I wonder what it would have been like to take Sinclair down my horrible memory lane while he held me against his chest. Would he have kissed my cheek and promised to love me like no one else could?I guess I’ll never find out.A tear drops on my finger, startling me, and I wipe at my cheek swiftly to hide it. Someone extends me a tissue and I find Astrid peering down at me with worry in her eyes. “Need to talk?”I glance at Alaric t