I didn’t like that I was suddenly the center of attention, especially from these guys. They had an aloofness as if they were talking about the latest toy Don had purchased.
Don’s arm went around my shoulders. I wanted to throw him off, but this didn’t seem like the best place to show my rebellion, not with stray alphas straggling about. I didn’t want to be left alone with his friends, either. I hated how uncomfortable I felt, but Don had taken me out of my element. I wanted to go home.
“He’s mine, so don’t get any ideas.” Heat radiated from Don’s side. His arm around me felt secure. I despised it, but I didn’t want him to stop holding me.
“So, we haven’t had that win, Donny boy?” Don’s other friend, that large beast of a wereduin, looked over to the ring. The troll had won. Perhaps size wasn’t everything.
Wait a second? Win?
Surely Don wasn’t planning on fighting? Inwardly I shook my head at the thought. Nah. I knew Don liked fighting and all, but street fights? Surely, even he hadn’t sunk that low. They must have been talking about Don placing a bet.
“You know, Jut,” Don addressed the gigantic wereduin, “I’ve yet to see your fat ass enter.” He arched an eyebrow, giving a superior little smirk. “’Course, Mites wants to win back his money tonight.”
Jut scratched his ear with a large claw, his deep tone nonchalant. “All this talk, Donny boy, and how did last time turn out?”
“Just wanted to see Mites shit himself when he lost those bets.” Don was cocky as always. And it seemed like, yes, he did plan on fighting.
What the hell? Did this guy ever not want to fight? He already trained a lot with his sects and served as a trainer, too. Plus, spawn was a pretty vicious sport when it came to fighting, and Don was auditioning for the pros. I’d have thought he’d had his fill of it. Apparently not. It looked like fighting was to Don what music was to me.
Jut made even Don look small. Unlike most wereduins, he didn’t have pointy ears. They looked like giant human ones. The tip of his huge nose was round like a ball. Wait a min—was he a half breed?
They were rare among wereduins because of the shame, but Don’s friend Jut definitely looked the part. He kind of reminded me of a giant. Of course, the only giants I’d seen were on TV, mostly because they were a mountain race. The ones that did mingle tended to be superstars and guaranteed parts in movies that needed giants, kind of like how oboe players were coveted whereas flute players were plentiful, as I had learned when I took band my first year of high school.
Still, wereduins, like vampires, were all about racial purity. Maybe that was why Jut was in a place such as this.
“You better not be sayin’ you lost on purpose, asshole!” Mites grumbled, but I cut him off, grabbing Don’s arm.
“What are you doing? You’re not gonna fight, are you?”
“Why?” The amusement in Don’s tone made me want to punch him. “You worried about me?”
“You wish! I just don’t wanna end up dragging your bloody ass home.”
Don grabbed me so quick I had no time to react, and he tugged me close. “I’d like to see you dragging me home.” His warm breath tickled my ear before he nipped the piercing in my cartilage. “But you’ve started to call our place home, and you’re worried about me. Should I call this a win?”
I tried to shake him off, but no such luck. He tugged my back against his chest and nibbled my neck before his hand invaded my sweatpants, and he played with me for a bit. I screwed my eyes shut, not wanting to see his friends’ leers or the other scruffy patrons. I continued to struggle, but it only excited him more.
“After this,” he said low into my ear, “I’m gonna be so worked up. Think you can handle it, little pup?”
“G-Get off.”
“Not happening.” His husky whisper made me shiver.
Brawny’s voice interrupted us. “Well, are yah fightin’? Or are yah just gonna eat that tasty beta of yours?”
Don’s chuckle tickled the light fuzz on my lobe. I felt his reluctance when he let me go. They all headed to the ring, leaving me behind, talking about things I didn’t know the context of. When they made it to the ring, Don pulled off his shirt to reveal his well-defined chest, solid like a rock, with smooth dark skin over firm muscles. I swallowed. He was unbelievably hot!
That pissed me off. Don, hot? Yeah, fucking right! Why the fuck had he made me come? I didn’t even like him. If anything, I hoped he’d get so beaten up that I could escape.
Don climbed into the ring; Mites went up with him. It reminded me of some of the boxing movies I’d watched.
“You shouldn’t stay too close, pup. Unless you wanna get a blood bath.” Brawny’s voice stole my attention. He and his beta were a few paces behind me. I didn’t want to be covered in blood, so I joined them.
Don and the troll got face to face. Both breathing harshly, focusing. The moment the ref’s hand went up to tell them to begin, Don transformed into a werewolf. In an instant, the two of them were fighting. Like the other werewolf, Don was taller than the troll. But the troll, closer to the ground, was more compact and could move quicker.
Don slashed across his chest, but he got out of the way. Quickly he turned and gored his horns into Don’s shoulder. He drew blood. Don’s eyes lit up, a smile ghosted on his lips. Was he enjoying this? As the fight continued, the idea of wanting him to get hurt diminished.
Don backed the troll into a corner. Instantly, he crouched and attacked into the troll’s stomach, his claws slashed through flesh, sending blood onto the floor. The troll howled in pain and rammed his tusks into Don, leaving bloody protrusion marks on his chest. Don seemed to get more excited, both in the way his upper lip curled and the quickness of his movements.
With a series of kicks, the troll used his horned toenails to do damage. He was very quick, but Don was quicker. He was more like the Don I had seen during the Silver Offering—a different werewolf than the one who’d started out. He had the troll on the defensive. His teeth tore into the toes of the troll’s kick that was too slow. Don had him on the floor, rolling around. They scratched each other, creating long deep gashes. The Troll’s tusk split Don’s shoulder, and he hissed in pain.
The Troll got a good kick in and jumped to his feet, only to be attacked from below. He fell, head smashing into the side of the ring. Blood from his mouth and nose sprayed all over the floor. And all over me. When the hell had I moved closer?
Damn it! I loved my Fangorre shirt. It was one of the most comfortable tees I owned. And given that Fangorre had stopped touring, I doubted I’d be able to replace it. They were an older band, although they still rocked. Thankfully, I had turned, and the spray ended up covering my shoulder and not the Fangorre’s classic logo—werewolf fangs dripping with blood. The green might be hard to get out, though. Fucking troll.
Don wiped the floor with the poor guy. It looked like he had even broken the troll’s arm. Even though the troll tore Don up wherever he could, he was getting his ass kicked. I wondered how long the fight would go on. The other werewolf had needed to be carried out of the ring. Would Don end up doing that to the troll? Don sank his teeth into the Troll’s back, and he collapsed to the floor. Cheers broke out all around me.
“Finish him!”
“Break him open!”
What? What the hell? “No, don’t!” He probably couldn’t hear me, but I yelled anyway. “Please! Don’t!”
Don’s jaws opened, his fangs dripping with the troll’s green blood. Scratches on his shoulders and his chest, he was bruised all over. He met my eyes. I watched him, unable to say anything, but my fear had to be apparent.
The ref tugged Don’s arm up in the air. “And the winner!”
The announcer took over from there. “What’s this? Floor’s too clean? No entrails tonight? Has the Black Beast gone soft?” Then he looked at the troll. “Looks like Splinter is Puker now!” The troll leaned over the side and vomited green chunks into the crowd. I thanked every Goddess and God I knew
that we were not on that side.
Don jumped down from the ring, reverting back into a Wereduin. His pseudo-clothes reappeared. Now that I thought about it, a lot of his clothes were pseudo. Not like that should have been surprising given that he was an alpha, and they changed forms constantly, unlike betas. Mites and Jut surrounded him. He was covered in sweat. The red blood on his shoulder was stark against his dark skin.
“So, what did you think, little man?” Brawny came over and was about to put his arm around me but thought better of it. “All wet and ready for him now?”
“Fuck you.” I shoved away from him. “Dammit, Don! What the hell were you thinking?” I wasn’t sure why I was acting like the worried mother hen, but the words just rushed out.
Don went to put his arm around me, but I pushed him away. He stank of sweat and blood.
“Get off! I fucking love this shirt! There’s no way you’re touching me before you shower.”
His friends laughed. It pissed me off more.
Brawny guffawed. “Already got a little pup maker, don’t cha?” I wanted to punch him even more than I wanted to rip off Don’s haughty smirk.
The crowd swamped in on us, coming to retrieve or give up their money, depending on their bets. I would have been pushed to the outside, but Don shielded me from most of it.
I took out some gauze, cloth, and rubbing alcohol from above the sink, as Don took a seat on the closed toilet. The master bathroom was covered in mirrors, so I saw him moving his long hair to the side and looking over his shoulder at the wound.
He must have felt me watching, for his gaze found mine. Quickly, I returned to my task of pouring the alcohol on the cloth.
“Are you doctoring me, my little Fern?” Don said with a half-smile when I came over to his side.
I grumbled and took the cloth dipped into alcohol to his shoulder. “I got your little right here!” He hissed in a breath as I dabbed his skin. “See, this is why I told you not to fight. Now you’re getting all sorts of wrong ideas from me doing this.” I wiped the blood from his wound and listened as his dark mocha skin sang beneath the cloth. I hadn’t noticed that he had three little brown birthmarks on his shoulder before. When he looked at me, I paused. “I told you not to get any ideas.” I touched more alcohol to his wound, and he sucked in a breath.
He watched me from one of the many mirrors, and a slow smile grew. “Then stop putting ideas into my head.” He grabbed my hand.
“Let go.”
He shook his head.
“I’m not done cleaning up your injuries yet.”
“Think I care about that?”
Anger welled up, although I didn’t know quite why. But the more I looked at the deep gashes on his body, the angrier I got. “So, you let yourself get beaten up, and now you won’t even let me doctor you!”
His eyes widened, and he released my hand. Quickly I went to wash out the blood from the cloth, so I could use it again. I didn’t want to see his face, but I caught it anyway through the mirror.
“Do you care about me, my little Fern?”
“’Course not. I just don’t want you to get an infection and get us killed in the Third Offering.”
He laughed. “So, you’re accepting that I’ve won you over?”
“I didn’t say that.” I moved to his other shoulder, also injured. “Take off your shirt.”
His smile showed his teeth more as he looked at me and tugged his tank over his head, first revealing his rock-hard abdomen, then his well-built chest. His shoulders looked even broader without his shirt on. Don was surprisingly handsome if I allowed myself to think that about another guy. He held eye contact, and I swallowed hard. My hand trembled as I dragged the rag along his collarbone and down his pec. Looking away, I focused on the task at hand.
Cleaning more blood off his skin, I treated it with alcohol. His body heat seeped through the cloth and warmed my fingers. When I went to clean his back, I could no longer avoid looking at him with all the surrounding mirrors. His pensive blue eyes grabbed hold of me, and I couldn’t look away. I rubbed the wet cloth over his broad shoulders before I trailed down his defined back, tracing the contours of his large back tattoo.
I had a chance to really study Don’s tattoo. The Twins of War looked even more menacing. Their vivid colors made them appear ready to jump off his skin and attack their unseen foe. I trailed the rag up and down his back, removing blood from Babd Cath’s torso and from Camalus’s fist weapon.
“Like what you see, my pet?”
I glanced away, but with those damn mirrors, the only safe place to look was at his skin.
Shaking my head, I couldn’t reply. I was already trembling, a low ache filling my groin. I wanted him to take me in his strong arms. I wanted to drag my claws down his back. I wanted…to hate myself for these thoughts, but my brain was growing numb. If I focused on the task at hand, I could keep control. But as I continued to touch his firm body, the feel of his skin along with his masculine scent, all began to awaken my desire.
I cleaned the cut on his side with alcohol after wiping it down. His hand snatched mine, and I dropped the gauze, alcohol spilling onto the floor. He pulled me into his lap, and I straddled him.
“St-Stop.” I could barely breathe, my heart in my throat.
Forcing my head back, he attacked my neck. I cried out as his teeth tore into the second claim mark, reinforcing it. My eyes found the mirrors on the ceiling, where I saw him devouring me from an entirely new angle. With my mouth still open, the moans wouldn’t stop. His dark physique dominated my pale, smaller frame as he held me in his muscular arms. I looked so helpless, but it didn’t upset me like I wanted it to.
“I told you, you better be ready to handle me.” I wanted him to remind me again—to make me realize who I belonged to. To fuck me, again and again, until those words drilled into my brain. “You’re thinking about it right now, my little Fern? Aren’t you? Thinking about all the ways I’m going to submit you.” My bottom lip trembled as he licked up my neck to my cheek. Cupping my face, he kissed me with deep, open-mouthed kisses.
Clutching my ass, he stood and took me over to the wall. He pressed me against it and yanked off my clothing. I wanted to grab his pants, unbuckle his jeans, but my pride stopped me.
“Go ahead. You can do it. Touch me.” Holding me up with one hand and the wall supporting me, he took my hand and placed it on the buttons of his jeans. “Go on,” he whispered into my ear, giving me goosebumps. “Give in to your desire. Free my cock, so I can stick it inside you.”
A moan ripped from my throat as he dragged his tongue down my neck and littered kisses on my skin, all the while continuing to whisper naughty, little bits of poison into my ear. “Like you did that first night when you ran into that dead end. You saw it, didn’t you?”
I shook my head.
“Don’t lie, Fern.” His hand took mine and slid it into his pants, popping open the two buttons. “You saw the exit, that if you took the right, you’d escape.” He kept moving my hand down. “But if you took the left, you’d be trapped. You’d be mine. And you chose the left.”
“N-Not true.”
He attacked my mouth with a harsh kiss, forcing his tongue inside, playing with mine—my body surrendering, even if my mind still felt it had a chance at resisting. As he continued to fuck my mouth with his tongue, he brought my hand into his boxers.
“You did, and you know it. That night I saw it in your eyes. What your body painfully craved.” He closed my hand around his cock, holding his hand over mine so I couldn’t pull away. “And do you know what?” I ached so badly it hurt. My beta juices ran down my thighs, and my dick grew painfully hard. I couldn’t believe how much he worked me up, and he hadn’t even touched me. “You wanted me inside you. You ached to be mine.”
He was right. I did remember seeing what looked like an exit behind a shrub, only my body didn’t take that path. Subconsciously I had taken a left. Somewhere in my heart, I knew I was running to my doom. I just hadn’t
wanted to think about it. All I focused on at that time was to be free. Not to be claimed, or fucked, or turned into someone’s beta, but even if my mind had not wanted it, my body had.
He brought my hand out from his pants until he pressed it against the mirror. “Look, Fern.” I hadn’t realized I’d shut my eyes. “Look at yourself. Look at how you’re responding to a few, simple words.”
I cracked my eyes open, and I saw myself in the mirror. That wasn’t me. I couldn’t be that person flushed and panting in his arms—cheeks red, mouth open, hot breaths against the closest mirror. My body trembled. The blush went down my neck and onto my chest. A few words had reduced me to putty in his hands. His sensual smile turned devilish. “Now free me, Fern.” My hand trembled. “Free my cock.”
Slowly, I reached between us. I brought the jeans’ zipper down as far as it would go.
“Go inside, all the way in.”
My hand descended into his boxers, and I wrapped my fingers around the thick, pulsing flesh of his cock. He moved enough to allow me to take it out. He cupped my chin and made me look at him. Trails of liquid escaped my eyes. My body so turned on, trembling, gasping, unable to stop the sound of lust. It was embarrassing how he was able to bring me to this state. Embarrassing. Degrading. How he could own my body simply with his voice.
“Good. Now sit on my cock.”
I lifted my hips, and he grabbed me. Aligning his erect cock to my hole, he thrust inside me. My mouth fell open. He rocked into me, holding me tightly, his hips nailing me to the wall, my ass cheeks making smudges on the glass.
“Gods, look how much you want me.” He thrust me down on his cock as he plowed up into me. From the new angle, it penetrated a different section of my inner walls. Pleasure burst behind my eyelids. My moans were loud in the room, filling it up with sounds I didn’t recognize.
“You wanted me then too, didn’t you, Fern?” All I could do was cry out. My face contorted in pleasure-pain at the intensity.
The Offering Page 15
