Page 30 of Ruthless Reign

I gape at him. "Don't tell me what to do."

"I'm not," he replies dryly. "Just making suggestions. I can feel the rage emanating from your body. I'll have to put the air conditioner on shortly if you keep this up."

Scowling, I pick up the nearest object—a pen—and chuck it at him. This time, it lands exactly where I want it to, bouncing off his forehead before landing somewhere on the floor.

"Really?" he mutters, exasperated. "You have this wild obsession with throwing things at my head."

"You have this uncanny ability to piss me off," I snap back, immediately grabbing a stapler from off the desk.

Suddenly, he's on his feet, swinging around the desk before I can pull my arm back. I let out a yelp when he rips the stapler out of my grasp, twisting my arm behind my back and slamming my chest onto the desk.

"That's enough," he growls, and I try not to focus on the fact that I'm bent over his desk—or the rush of heat I feel as he presses into me.

"I'msotempted to say it right now," I grumble, feeling the curse words on the tip of my tongue.

Cade leans down, pushing his chest into my back as he whispers into my ear. "Try it—I dare you."

"Fuck you," I say, even more inclined to do it now that he's daring me.

Large hands grab me, swinging me around to face him. I can't help the gasp that escapes when his hand clutches my throat, squeezing the sides of my neck. My stomach clenches, body overwhelmed by his touch and scent. What is wrong with me?

"You want to talk about respect?" he murmurs, voice oddly calm for someone who has me by the jugular. "Then respect me, Nyx. I may not be your alpha, but I am one, nonetheless. And you are a guest in my territory."

I narrow my eyes. "Guests are usually there voluntarily," I manage to choke out. "I'm not here on my own free will."

"Because you're too stubborn to listen," he argues, giving me a warning squeeze.

"So I've been told," I argue back.

The tension between us is thick, nearly choking me as much as Cade is. Neither of us move, except for when I wrap my fingers around his wrist, digging my nails into his pale skin. I know it's enough to break the skin, but he doesn't flinch—if anything, his grip tightens more, finally restricting my air intake completely. Against my leg, I feel his growing length, and I'm horrified that we are both enjoying this far more than we should be.

Still, I refuse to relent, shooting daggers with my eyes. I can feel my lungs screaming for oxygen, but I make no move to struggle, only gripping him harder with my fingers.

Finally, as spots start to appear in my vision, his hand eases, releasing some of the pressure from my neck. I suck in a breath, somehow still managing to hold my glare.

"I have no problems playing these games with you," he murmurs, locking eyes with me. "In fact, I enjoy it. But I'm not going to continue to let you slander me and my pack."

"You've given me no reason to trust you," I growl. "How do I know you won't attack them as soon as they arrive?"

"You don't," he answers, sending another rush of anger through me. "But as for the trust, I've made no move on you—despite everything."

My brows furrow in confusion. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

There's a glint in his eye, almost uncaged and animalistic. "You're going into heat," he remarks. "I could smell it last night when I chased you through the woods. But in spite of the bond trying to drag me to you, I had Marie mask it. That way, both of us can stay in control. I would love nothing more than to shut you up with my cock, but non-consensual isn't my thing. When I finally take you, it will be after you beg for it."

At his words, the anger evaporates, replaced by another rush—and pure anxiety. I can feel my body burning, but I thought that was from blind rage. Worst still, my stomach twists with heated desire. How the fuck can I be attracted to this man? Why is my body craving his touch, especially after he's placed those images in my head?

All I can think of is the last time I went into heat, how easily I lost control—fucking Maverick in the woods. Nothing could hold me back, not even my hatred toward him, somehow managing to snap metal chains in my sleep as my feral side took over, giving in to the urges. But right now… I don't feel like I'm out of control. Even though I do feel the torturous warmth in my entire body. I didn't even recognize that my heat was creeping in, too focused on the situation at hand.

I don't have much experience with my heat, but I do know that usually I lose all sense of rationality—regardless of how I feel about someone or the situation I'm in. I had to go as far as running away from Lex and Maverick when I went into heat upon Maverick's arrival in Shadow Creek. Still, once I was in the middle of the fully-fledged, literal meltdown, nothing was able to stop it.

I frown, immediately letting go of his wrist as emotions threaten to consume me. As soon as I release him, Cade slowly moves his hand away, stepping back to put space between us.

There's a knowing look on his face—a smile as he notices that I realize he's correct. But I don't even want to wipe it off to my surprise. I want to run away, to hide. Not out of fear of what I might do, but out of humiliation and discomfort.

In line with my ridiculous ability to accumulate mates, I seem to go into heat at the most inappropriate times. It would be almost laughable if the situation wasn't so serious.

But I'm also embarrassed. I want to believe that he's the bad guy. Every time I point out a questionable move on his part, heretorts it with an excuse—not a reasonable one by any measure, but one that leaves doubt, nonetheless.

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