Chapter 43
Chapter 43
Brant
The door opened, and Leslie walked in with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
She sat beside me, placing them on the table in front of us. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she leaned in and gave me a soft peck on the lips.
She smiled, clearly expecting a reaction, but I just stared back at her, deadpan. If she thought something was going to happen between us, she was dead wrong.
She let go and tried to play it cool, pretending another rejection from me didn’t bother her. But I could see it in her eyes. Eyes never lie.
She poured the wine into both glasses and handed me one. I took it and gulped it down without much thought.
“Can you remember when you sat right there and watched me getting banged right on this couch?” she asked, her tone sultry. “It turned you on so fucking bad.”
“I remember everything that happened in this bloody room, Leslie,” I said coldly.
“Don’t you miss the thrill?” she leaned in, licking her lips. “I can call one of the best girls. You want a blowjob? What about Therasa?”
I frowned. Therasa? I couldn’t even remember who the fuck that was.
“Leslie,” I muttered, my tone sharp. “I’m not here for a good fuck. I’m here to end anything sensual between us.”
“But why?” she demanded. “If it’s not Marirose... is there someone else? Another woman trying to change your life?”
“No…” I started. My voice faltered. Something felt wrong.
My head started to throb, thoughts sluggish like they were sinking underwater, the air thickening around me. The room tilted slightly.
“Leslie... what did you do to me?” I muttered, trying to focus on her face. “Leslie…”
Her expression darkened with twisted desire.
“I want to fuck you, Brant,” she said softly, wickedly. “You don’t get to walk away from me. From this. After everything…”
She sipped from her own glass, calmly placed it down, then stood up. The drug had been in my cup. Of course.
She slipped off her dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pool around her feet. Her naked body shimmered under the low lights as she straddled my lap. She lifted my limp hand and placed it on her breast, right over the tattoo of my name.
“Don’t you see that I love you, Brant Paxton? I’m fucking crazy about you,” her voice cracked with raw obsession. “You mean the world to me. And you think you can just walk away? No. Not after everything. Not after what we’ve been through. You can’t.”
She crashed her lips onto mine. What used to be sensual now tasted like poison. Her kiss wasn’t tender—it was desperate, wild, a violation masked in lust. She forced her tongue into my mouth, sloppy, wet, aggressive, tasting of alcohol and need. There was no tenderness, only hunger and control.
The drug was taking full effect.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight her off. My body was sluggish and limp, my limbs disconnected from my will.
She slipped my jacket from my shoulders and let it fall, then crawled down my body. Lifting my shirt, she placed slow, burning kisses across my chest.
Damn it, Ghost.
“Permission to take over,” he said in my head.
“Have I ever given you permission to take over? …Shit!” I snapped, internally.
He went quiet.
“Ghost!” I screamed.
“Sable is here,” he growled.
“Sable? Why the fuck is she here?” I asked, my mind spiraling.
“Let’s go find out.”
Leslie was just about to unzip my jeans when Ghost surged forward, seizing control.
He grabbed her throat and lifted her clean off the floor. Her eyes widened in shock as he slammed her against the wall.
“Gh…Ghost,” Leslie gasped, struggling in his grip.
“Take your filthy hands off me,” he snarled. “And Melissa, control her.”
He released her, and she collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.
I was still foggy, dazed from the damn drug, but Ghost had full control.
Leslie's wolf—Melissa—was already rising inside her, but Ghost didn't give them time.
He grabbed the jacket off the floor and stormed out of the room, down the hallway, and straight to the club exit.
Sable was walking away from Lucas as he grabbed her arm.
He touched her.
He fucking dared to touch her.
Ghost stormed up and grabbed Lucas by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air. With a roar, he slammed him into a nearby car, his back colliding with the metal with a sickening crunch.
Ghost didn’t let go. His hand stayed wrapped around Lucas’s throat like a vice.
He leaned in, growling through clenched teeth.
“You ever touch her again, and I’ll rip your fucking spine out and use it as a leash.”
Sable
I arrived at the Lion’s Den, Leslie’s club. Why was I here? Because my wolf said so. She told me Brant would be here, and if we didn’t want Leslie to do something reckless, we had to show up. I wasn’t about to stand back and watch Leslie do anything stupid.
I had noticed Brant hadn’t been coming to the club lately. I wondered if Leslie had called him here.
I was walking toward the entrance when a hand grabbed my arm, pulling me back. I turned around and saw the messy brown-haired guy with piercing blue eyes—Lucas. The same guy I beat in that race… or rather, the guy Selene beat.
'Just say the fucking loser,' Selene muttered in my head.
“So, you’re a wolf…” he said in a deep, aggressive tone.
I snatched my arm out of his grip. “And so…?”
“When you came last time, you lied to me. You’re not Brant’s woman.”
“And?”
“What are you doing here, princess?” he asked, smirking.
“I’m not a princess. Don’t call me that.”
“Well, since you’re not Brant’s woman… maybe I can be the one fucking your cunt,” he said, voice laced with arrogance.
I laughed. “Is that the pickup line you use on women? I’m sure most of them slapped you across the face. The rest probably just looked at you like the fucking idiot you are.”
His face twisted in anger for a second—jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, his blue eyes narrowing into slits—before he forced a fake smile and ran a hand through his disheveled hair like he could charm his way out of it. He couldn’t fool me.
“Are you doubting, honey?”
“No, I don’t doubt honey. I love honey,” I said with a mocking grin. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the poison in the jar.”
A bit of a joke, but Selene wasn’t amused.
'We are here for Brant,' Selene reminded.
Lucas’s fake charm vanished. His voice turned ice-cold.
“You don’t know who I am. You don’t want to mess with me.”
“I’m not afraid of you. And I’m only here to see Brant. So fuck off,” I said, turning to walk away.
But he grabbed my hand again.
Just as I turned back to him, Brant appeared, sudden and silent, grabbing Lucas by the neck. He lifted him effortlessly, slamming him against a car. Lucas’s back hit the metal with a sickening crunch as Brant’s hand remained firmly at his throat.
I gasped.