Wounded Kiss (To Be Claimed 1)

He strokes my back and I feel myself relax into him. This power he has over me does nothing to ease my racing thoughts. A part of me thinks I should leave it be and give in. It isn’t like I have a choice. But that’s just not how I was made. He commanded me, fucked me, and now he’s petting me like a prized poodle. I’m not going to sit back and be a good little pack-bitch.

“Why did you take us?” The words come out dead on my tongue. I already know the answer, but I need to hear him say it. Maybe then I can hate him. I can stop feeling this intense emotional and physical pull to him. His hand pauses as his back tenses for a split second, his strong muscles rippling.

“I wish you would trust your instincts.” His comment is followed by a low and irritated sigh. Gritting my teeth, I shift in his lap so I’m facing him and stare up at his gorgeous face, ready to lay into him, to push him away and practically spit out every horrible thought I have. His silver eyes look almost sad. They soften my resolve to be combative. He rests his hands on my hips and says, “I wish you would trust me, Grace. I know you want to.”

My mind is at war with itself to the point that I have to look away. He’s right. I do have the desire to trust him, to let him hold me, to give myself to him. But that’s not who I am. “Because of my heat.” I frown and offer the words as a simple explanation. Once the heat is gone, I’m sure I won’t feel this way about him anymore. It’s only temporary. But I’ll live with this forever … and Lizzie …

Devin’s fingertips dig into the soft flesh at my hips. The possessive hold makes my body instinctively still. My heart races in fear. Once he registers my reaction, he loosens his grip and caresses instead, but I remain frozen in place as my heart tries to climb up my throat. I want to trust him, but I sure as fuck don’t.

A moment of awkward silence passes.

“How long did I sleep?” I ask and peek up at him through my lashes only to find him staring at me. As though he’s studying me.

“A few hours.” Shock widens my eyes and I jump back a bit, as far as I can with his hands still gripping my hips, keeping me seated in his lap.

“Lizzie,” I say her name in a breathy voice, not hiding my fear and shock. I can’t believe I left her alone for that long.

“She’s all right.” I shift uncomfortably in my captor’s grasp. Would he tell me if she wasn’t? As if on cue, he speaks up.

“I’d let you know if she wasn’t well. She seems to like her space and we’re giving it to her.”

I nod my head, but eye him questioningly. I almost ask him, promise? As if this man owes me anything or that I should trust him. But I don’t have to ask. He tells me exactly what I want to hear.

“I promise nothing bad will happen to her. She’s sleeping. Sound asleep and perfectly safe.”

“She’s not with—”

“She’s not with a man, no. No one has … touched her. Like I’ve touched you.” There’s a thrumming in my veins and mixed feelings that race through me.

Before I can whisper promise? yet again, he says it first. “I promise you, Grace.”

Jude said they can hear each other’s thoughts and now I’m wondering if he can hear mine. I purse my lips and narrow my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He seems a bit worried so I school my expression back to neutral. Still, I can’t help but to ask.

“Can you read my mind?” At my question he chuckles, revealing his perfect, yet deadly white teeth. I find myself staring at his sharp fangs, mesmerized by them.

“No, I can’t read your mind. Werewolves can communicate telepathically if we concentrate but that doesn’t include humans.” He runs his fingers through my hair and his silver eyes sparkle almost as brilliantly as his smile. “So unfortunately I’ll never be able to read your mind, Grace.”

His fingertips glide gently up and down my back, pulling at my cream camisole. It’s then that I realize I’m only wearing my shirt. He’s covered my lower half with a cashmere throw. I snuggle into it and shift my weight on his lap, feeling self-conscious. My eyes search the room and land on my ripped jeans and lace thong. Dammit. I can’t help but frown at the sight.

“Those were my favorite jeans. I just got them.” I can’t conceal the disappointment in my voice. His eyes follow my gaze and he runs a hand through his gorgeous hair, looking guilty all the while.