"Are you kidding?" Jude said, his mouth agape. "Animals don't get depressed."
"Some researchers would say you're wrong. Besides, this bitch is half-human. We don't know how she'll react. I'll feel better if I sleep out here in the lab."
"For Christ's sake, you have a camera in there."
"Yeah, and if something happens, she could be dead before I get down here.”
"Well, then." Jude grinned. "Why don't you just sleep in the bed with her? Your examining table doesn't look all that comfortable."
"Don't be stupid." Jonas frowned at him. "You'll help me bring in a sofa from the den."
Jude shrugged and finished his drink. "Be careful, bro. She might just kill you in the middle of the night."
Jonas glanced up at the camera and the woman lying on his bed. "She's secured. She can't get out of that bed unless I let her out."
* * * *
God, she hated this tiny stinking room. It felt like a coffin. She might as well be dead. With nothing to look at besides white walls, white tile floors, and a few sticks of furniture, she thought she'd go snow blind. Not even a window to relieve the monotony or offer a breath of fresh air.
The two men popped in and out whenever they pleased—to bring trays of food, clean sheets, or let her use the bathroom. Jonas took her blood and made her pee in a cup. He wouldn't tell her why, but she knew anyway. Her prison smelled like a doctor's office. He was testing her.
This morning they allowed her another shower. It pissed her off to know they watched her, but she also took a perverse pleasure in knowing she aroused them.
She deliberately took her time washing. She ran her hands over her body, her breasts, pinched her nipples. She let one hand slide over her belly and between her thighs to that throbbing bundle of nerves that ached for attention. She knew how to touch herself in a way that made her eyes roll back in her head.
She smelled lust all over them, heard their breath quicken over the running water. Panting like randy dogs, and they called her an animal?
Jonas and his brother were not at all her type. Lycan men were dark and dangerous-looking while these men looked more like angels with their blond hair and blue eyes. Looks could be deceiving. Lycan men might look like big bad wolves, but they treasured and respected their women. Her captors were cruel. They were more animal than human.
Kweo, help me escape.
The wolf spirit was responsible for hunting food and for increasing his kind, but he was a warrior, too. She sighed and slumped in defeat when her Creator didn't release her bonds. He didn't hear her anymore. She had no one to blame but herself. She hadn't prayed in fifteen years.
She smelled Jonas before he entered the room. His familiar footsteps stopped at the doorway.
"Do you need anything?"
"No."
"Do you want to use the bathroom?"
"No."
"Well, goodnight then."
She ignored him. He was so predictable with his nightly routine. He left the door open and slept in the next room. Some nights she drifted off to the sound of his stuffy classical music, so boring it lulled her to sleep even when she wasn't tired. Still, if she heard the familiar notes and kept the light on, she didn't feel like she'd been buried alive. No matter how many years passed, she would never forget the terror of lying in that dark hole under the floor.
Jonas walked around for a while, and before long, she heard his soft, familiar snores. No music tonight but hearing the sound of his breath close by calmed her. She wasn't alone.
Warm and on edge, she couldn't sleep anyway. She rubbed her tender breasts, pinched the nipples until they were distended peaks, and then slid a hand between her thighs to her vulva, wet and swollen. When she brought her hand up, she saw a tinge of pink and sighed. Her heat was on her. Unlike animals that bred once a year, she had a cycle similar to human women, only stronger. She needed to mate.
Her thoughts drifted to Malcolm. He might be the last Lycan male left. Too bad he'd fallen for a human woman. She would never make that mistake. Sex with humans was barely tolerable. Getting emotionally involved was out of the question.
She knew how to take care of herself. Her fingers danced over her sensitive clit. Already wet, she rubbed the moisture around her sex. Nerve endings awakened, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. It wasn't nearly as good as having a cock inside her, but it would take the edge off.
* * * *
Sable's rough breathing woke Jonas, and he panicked. Shit! Good thing he didn't have the music playing, he might not have heard her.
Jude had laughed at him. Told him he worried over her like a mother hen. Well, why not? He took good care of all his livestock, and she was especially valuable.
His muscles cramped painfully when he unfolded himself from the couch. The small sofa wasn't designed for his tall frame. He grabbed a hypodermic and rushed into the adjoining bedroom. Sable always slept with the tiny bedside lamp on, and he saw right away she wasn't choking.
Jonas blew out a hard breath. He stood by the door, transfixed, watching her pleasure herself. She was so fucking beautiful and never more so than right this minute. Her skin flushed with arousal. Her musky perfume lightly scented the air. He never had an interest in BDSM games, but the sight of her collared and chained to the bed excited him more than he thought possible. It had been weeks since he and Nicole had sex. His work came first, and their relationship, more off than on, suffered for it.
With a deep sigh, Sable pulled her knees up and let them fall apart. Her hands roamed over her belly, and when she brushed her fingers over the black curls between her thighs, he held back a groan. Any thoughts of Nicole vanished like smoke in the wind.
Her index finger traced the lips of her vulva, and her body quivered in response to her own delicate strokes. The finger disappeared inside her pussy and came out wet with her fluids. Her swollen clit peeked out from its hood. Moaning, she circled it with her fingers, never touching the stiff little nub itself. Her hips rose off the bed as her fingers moved faster. Her breath grew ragged.
Jonas couldn't take his eyes off her. His balls tightened, and his cock, fully erect and weeping with pre-cum, poked through his cotton boxers. He grasped it, and his erection throbbed in his hand.
Seeing her spread out before him like every man's wet dream, he thought he might come right then. Drunk on her scent, he had a burning desire to taste her, to experience every intimate part of her and lose himself in sensory overload. He imagined what it would feel like to have his hands on her, his face buried between her thighs and his tongue in her pussy. He wanted to be the one to bring her to release. His cock grew harder than he thought possible.
Her hips and hands moved faster. He matched his strokes to hers and somehow held off his own climax. When she arched her back and cried out, he let himself go. He went off in a fierce explosion of pleasure. When he finally opened his eyes, he caught her staring at him.
* * * *
She felt him watching. Knowing she excited him sexually gave her a sense of power. She wielded so little control over her situation. She could at least have that much. The scent of his arousal blended with hers and put erotic thoughts in her mind. His heat fueled hers. She came quickly in a series of pleasurable spasms and then watched him from the corner of her eye.
He fisted his erection and pumped. His cock, long and thick, stirred her imagination. Her womb clenched, and her sex heated up again. When a thick rope of semen spurted over his hand, she almost came again.
Her wolf sent out a mating call, and Sable couldn't suppress a soft howl. The randy little beast taunted her. Use him. He'll fill us so completely. Wolf and woman agreed. They both wanted him. No! Physical attraction be damned. She'd rather fuck a timber wolf.
But when she caught his eye, his intense gaze made her stomach flutter. They stared at each other, eyes locked in shock at the heightened awareness between them. Tremors ran down her spine, and her pulse quickened. The moment stretched out for an eternity, and still she couldn't
look away. What was wrong with her, that the thought of fucking her jailer was more exciting than it was disgusting?
"I, uh." He stammered and wiped his hands on his boxers. A few awkward seconds passed and then he approached the bed.
"Brave, aren't we?" She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I thought you were choking. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"I'm okay." Her eyes were drawn to his cock, already reawakening and glistening with his cum. She ran her tongue over dry lips and resisted an urge to lick him clean. A rumble, something halfway between a groan and a growl, came up from her chest, and she reached a hand between her legs.
His eyes followed her hand. "You're in heat."
"Really?" She sneered at him.
He reached out for her. She prepared to be groped, but he surprised her by cupping her cheek and rubbing his thumb along her jawline. It was a gesture she didn't welcome, a deliberately seductive move. She'd have preferred him to handle her roughly. It would make it easier to resist his advances.
"There's a cure for that," he said softly, "and it just so happens that I know a good doctor."
"And I know how to take care of myself." She caught his natural scent and breathed him in. He wasn't wearing some flowery cologne like most human men. When had she started to savor his scent so much?
"But you don't have to. All that pent-up sexual energy. You're ready to explode." Very slowly, he lowered himself to the bed, and she positioned herself in a defensive posture.
"Easy." He put a hand on her thigh.
Fuck! She liked that big, warm hand on her bare flesh, liked it way too much. Knocking his hand away, she hissed at him, bared her teeth and lunged for his throat.
He blocked her easily. Anger washed through her. The drugs had left her weakened and vulnerable with only a fraction of her strength and speed. Once again, he had the upper hand, but she refused to give in.
They eyed each other warily. He intended to get what he wanted. Why didn't he just make his move and get it over with?
"This doesn't have to be unpleasant." He trailed his fingers down her arm. She disarmed him with an indulgent smile, then raked her nails down his chest.
"Fuck!" His face contorted with pain and fury. "You bitch!" When she went for his face, he grabbed her, pushed her down, and straddled her. The pressure of his cock, like a fiery brand against her slit, ramped up her excitement again. She wanted to grind her hips against his and assuage the ache in her very receptive pussy, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Let him be the aggressor. Expecting him to plunge inside her at any second, she forced herself to lie still and wait for the sweet pleasure of penetration.
Instead, he rolled off. He lay facing her and propped his head on an elbow. "I never intended to force you.”
She blinked in astonished silence.
"You really did a job on my chest." He inspected the furrows.
"You're lucky I didn't use claws."
At once interested, he focused on her face. "Can you? Partially shift?"
She ignored the question. There was no point in giving the enemy information he could use against her. If she had the ability to partial shift, she'd have done it already. But, let him wonder and worry.
She scraped a fingernail down the length of his cock, enjoying his quick intake of breath. "Aren't you afraid I'll bite it off?"
"Wouldn't you rather have me in your cunt than your stomach?"
Unfortunately, she would. "Why would a nice, normal man like you want to fuck an animal like me?"
"Because watching you made me hot as hell. I want to feel your mouth on me," he blurted out.
"And how is that going to help me?" She laughed.
"I'll make sure you're satisfied." His voice was husky. The heat in his eyes made her pulse race. His erection pointed at her, beckoning.
"A little foreplay is always fun." She teased the nest of light-brown curls around his cock. They were darker than the shaggy mop of blond hair on his head but so much lighter than the hair of Lycan men.
"So pretty," she murmured, then stiffened in surprise. Hidden beneath the hair at Jonas's groin, a small brown mark stood out against his lighter skin.
"What's this?" She traced the outline.
"It's nothing."
"It looks like a paw print. A wolf's paw print." She snickered. "You're marked.”
"It's just a birthmark, that's all." Jonas grabbed her hand and brought it to his chest.
The bright red scratch marks drew her, and she traced them along his lightly furred chest. She caved in to an urge and swiped a welt with her tongue. His taste intrigued her. She took another lick and met his eyes, dark pools of midnight blue that electrified her. He wanted her. She didn't doubt that for a minute. So why was he holding back? He trapped her, imprisoned her, collared her. She expected him to take her hard and fast. What kind of game did he play? Did he really want her to give him the go-ahead? Not a problem. This time. Her body responded to his, and she wanted relief bad enough to forget who he was for a little while.
She nipped one flat, brown nipple, then bent over his hips and swirled her tongue around the purple head of his cock. His taste exploded on her tongue. The salty tang intoxicated her, and she slid her lips down his impressive length, not caring about the rules of the game.
"Jesus." He groaned and put his hands on her head.
She waited for him to set a rhythm, but he twisted his hands in her hair and tugged gently. She managed one last lick before she gave in. He settled her next to him so they were facing each other.
"I thought that's what you wanted."
"I do, but already I'm much too close. If you keep doing that, I'll come, and I don't know if I can manage a third time. I think you want me inside your pussy, not your mouth." He hiked her leg over his hips and stroked her cleft.
He was right. That's exactly where she wanted him, the sooner the better.
"You're so wet," he murmured. His eyes went darker. He took his hand away, lined up his cock so it nudged her moist entrance, and penetrated her.
"Oh!" She dug her fingers into his arms. She really needed this, and he felt so damn good.
He moved nice and easy, buried himself to the hilt, and then stilled. He pulled out until only the head remained inside her. Then he plunged back in.
She answered his groan with one of her own.
He lifted her leg to change the angle of his thrusts, and she moved with him in perfect rhythm.
"Oh, Gods." Their faces were so close. He was breathing hard, his mouth open. She grasped his neck and leaned in for a kiss, but he turned his head, denying her. She bit her lip, refusing to let him see how he'd hurt her. She had no time to think about it, he rolled her over until he was on top and worked himself deeper with fast, hard thrusts that drove her wild.
She made little animal noises in her throat, forgetting everything except the sweet relief he promised.
Her inner walls quivered around him, and her breathing grew ragged. Deep in her vagina, muscles clenched, and she buried her face against his throat. Her wolf cried out, wanting something more, wanting blood. At the final moment of frenzied release, she sank her teeth in his neck. He bucked and came inside her with a harsh groan.
Stars exploded behind her eyelids, and her womb contracted. A spark found her most secret place and sent out an electric current that arced to every nerve ending in her body.
She held on for dear life and let the spasms subside. A feeling of elation, of awe and wonder, lifted her spirits. She licked his neck, tasted his blood. He belonged to her.
Gods!
What had she done? Without thinking, she'd marked him. She'd never marked anyone, not even Malcolm, who she once thought was her mate. Damn her wolf!
After a few seconds, he rolled to his side, taking her with him. Already she wanted him again. What had she done? Did she bind this man to her forever?
She touched his neck. "Now you're
twice marked."
"Clawed and bitten, I'd say you're getting back at me with a vengeance. Next time I might bite back."
If only. "I've been warned." She smiled tightly.
He put a hand to his neck. "I'm not going to turn into a werewolf, am I?"
"You've seen too many movies. It doesn't work that way," she said indignantly. "Besides, I'm not a werewolf. I'm Lycan."
"Maybe you can teach me about Lycans?"
"I don't think so." He didn't care about her or her people. Besides, they were dead. She didn't want to talk about them.
"Are you okay?" he whispered to her.
Jonas made her head spin. Sometimes he played Mr. Hyde, now he acted more like Dr. Jekyll.
His lips were so close, his breath warm on her face. She parted her lips in a not-so-subtle invitation, but he pulled away and sat up.
"I'll let you get some sleep now."
Bastard!
What did she expect? That he would kiss and cuddle and spend the night in her bed? He owned her. It was only a matter of time before he exerted his right to fuck her. That she understood. The way he made her feel was another story. She reacted to him with pure animal instinct.
She'd never felt this way with Malcolm. Never marked him, even though she believed he was her mate. Not that it mattered, the bond meant nothing to a human man. Jonas had no idea she'd marked him as her own. Inwardly, she smiled. He thought he owned her. Now she owned him as well. Even though he'd never know, it still made her feel a little more in control.
He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. A flicker of surprise touched her when he returned with a wet towel. Bewildered, she let him clean her up. He confounded her. One minute he looked at her with disgust, the next he treated her with tenderness. He would wear down her resistance if she didn't keep her guard up. Captivity had made her soft and needy. The longer she stayed here the closer she came to becoming the docile pet he wanted. A few nice gestures didn't mean a damn thing. Soon enough he'd find out that no one could own her. In the meantime she would enjoy their mating and bide her time.
Stanley, Gale - Mating Call [Black Wolf Gorge 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 3
