What the actual fuck? A kick of heat flashes through me, thickens my cock. My hands curl to fists. My wolf is howling, adrenaline pumping through my veins, but I don't know if it's preparing me to claim the gorgeous female or fight for her freedom.
The woman strains against her bonds, the whites of her huge blue eyes flashing. Her full lips are chapped and bleeding. When she whimpers, red hot fury kicks through me. The need to protect her, to rescue her from this predicament, shoves to the surface, erasing all traces of my ill-timed lust.
"What in the hell is this?" I stalk forward and catch one of her cuffed wrists, yanking on the chain. "Unbind her," I thunder.
Later, I'd replay the scene over and over again, berating myself for my stupidity. A sinister chuckle is all I hear before I whirl to see the heavy door swing closed, locking with a resounding clang.
Rage makes me shift in a flash, shredding my tailored clothing midair as I launch toward the door, my huge wolf body hitting it at full force, but not budging it even a millimeter. I snarl, leaping about the room, my fury too great for rational thought as I snap and growl, prowling the perimeter, searching for any way to escape. Of course there's none. I know these cells well.
Shit.
I turn back to the girl. Oddly, despite my ferocious display of fury, her blue eyes don't hold panic now. She watches me with avid interest. Maybe because we're in the same boat-two prisoners left to… damn.
I know what they want.
Somehow, they've found a she-wolf from another pack and they kidnapped her to use for breeding. I knew they wanted me to mate but I had no idea they'd go this far.
I will kill them all-tear their damn throats out, every single one of the pinche council members. Holding me-their alpha-against his will, to be used as a goddamn stud?
Fuck no.
I roar and throw myself against the door one more time, though I know it's useless. Remembering a camera should be in the corner, I leap at it, clamping my fangs down on the smooth plastic and crushing the glass lens between them.
Fuck. Them.
I circle the small cell again and return to the bed, where I clamp my jaws down on the chain that holds one of the girl's wrists.
She closes her delicate hand into a fist, keeping her fingers away from my teeth.
Fates, her scent.
She smells like... heaven. Sugar cookies and almonds with a touch of citrus. And wolf. This female sure as hell isn't defectuosa. I wonder what her wolf looks like. Black, like mine? Grey? Tan?
I give my head a shake. It doesn't matter. I'm not mating her. I'm getting her the hell out of here.
I growl and pull with all my might, tear at the damn chain to pull it out of the wall.
The gorgeous female joins in, her youthful muscles bulging in a show of spectacular athleticism. The two of us heave together with all our might, but the chain doesn't pull free.
I sink on my haunches.
"Thanks for trying." Her American English contains a sweet, musical lilt.
No. I'm not interested in this enticing American, no matter how charming and beautiful she may be. That's what they want.
They think if they throw me in here with her, I'll claim the prize they caught for me. Sink my teeth into her and mark her forever. They're relying on my alpha instinct to mate another alpha and reproduce.
Do they think I'll forgive or forget this manipulation? Do they seriously think I'll let any of them live after this stunt?
I shift back to human form.
Carajo. Now I, too, am naked, my clothes shredded from the shift. And this raging hard-on isn't going to make the beauty in chains feel any safer.
I whirl to turn my back to the bed. Well, hell. Of course my cock is harder than stone. No matter how pissed I am or how much I want to rescue her, chained beauty is undeniably the most erotic sight I've ever witnessed.
"Fuck." I pick up the tattered remains of my trousers and find my boxers within them. They're torn, but might stay on if I sort of hang onto them. I step into them.
"You speak English." There's a note of relief in her voice.
I scowl. She shouldn't trust me. Because if she knew what I want to do to that luscious, naked, fully available body of hers, she'd be screaming.
My shirt lies a few feet away. I grab it and brace myself against her intoxicating presence before I turn back.
It doesn't help. She's as beautiful as I thought. No-more. Somehow I make it to the side of the bed to arrange my shirt over as much of her skin, which is a shade of burnished gold with tan lines in the shape of what must have been a miniscule string bikini. My mouth waters imagining what she must have looked like on the beach where she earned her tan. I know she filled out her bikini in a way that made every male in the area groan.
I drape the fabric over her pussy and stretch the other end up toward her breasts.
She quakes, her thighs straining against the iron manacles on her ankles and I catch the scent of her arousal.
Fates, is that all it takes? A single brush of fabric against her most sensitive bits and she's already ripe for the taking?
I seriously will not survive this test.
Arranging the shirt becomes a torture in itself, because when the scent hits my nostrils, I yank the fabric too high and expose her pussy, then slide it off her breasts when I give it an impatient jerk down.
The way her nipples rise and fall with her quickened breath doesn't help matters, nor does those big blue eyes fixed on me.