Page 42 of The Wulver's Bond
To his shock—and alarm—Arran knelt in front of him. It put the Wulver’s head just below his sternum, and it was a strange thing to be looking down on the wolfman for a change.
Arran placed his palms around Moss’s waist, warming him through with the contact. ‘Moss. You never require an excuse—or even a reason—to ask me to stop. Your word is law to me, you understand?’
‘Get up, wolfie,’ Moss whispered, feeling distress rise in his stomach. He couldn’t handle the shifting dynamics between them. It made him feel like a sand dune unbound by its mat of plants, being broken down by relentless wind and sea. ‘One minute you’re too scared you’ll hurt me, then the next you’re adamant you’d never do me wrong. Fucking pick one.’
‘We are both complex creatures,’ Arran said softly. ‘At war with our wants and needs, which do not always align. Iwantyou to be free. Ineedyou to be mine.’
He stopped with a little shudder, as though he’d said more than he meant to.
To be his,Moss echoed.
His. Mine. I’m on his leash and he’s on mine.
Moss found he’d lost control of his hands. They reached out of their own accord, cupping the Wulver’s ears and stroking along his brow with his thumbs. Arran looked up at him, eyes bright and sincere. There was a smattering of lighter grey hairs around his cheeks, specks of near-white receding into the mane along the back of his neck.
‘I’ve done some fucking awful things, wolfie,’ Moss heard himself saying, as though from a distance. ‘Ugly things. Evil things.’
‘So have I,’ Arran replied. His head tipped, leaning into Moss’s touch. ‘What brought this to your mind now?’
Moss’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. ‘I wouldn’t have had to do any of it if… If I hadn’t trusted the wrong person.’
Arran’s hands slid up his sides, mirroring the ministrations of Moss’s fingers with his own. ‘Is that how you were captured?’
‘I loved Them.’ Such a frail statement. Even as Moss said it, doubt clouded the words. Had he truly loved Them? Or had he simply been overwhelmed by Their grand gestures of peace and pleasure?
Their copulation had been wild and turbulent, overpowering Moss to keep him distracted. He’d been on a different kind of leash and never even known it.
Moss stepped away from Arran, pulling his hands up to scrub over his face like he could scrub the thoughts themselves away. He was so tired of betrayal hanging over him.
Perhaps Arran read his mind. ‘Would you like me to draw you a bath, or would you like to bathe with me in the river?’
Golden sunshine streamed into the cave behind him. The river sounded glorious.
‘The river,’ Moss said, squaring his shoulders. ‘But only if you carry me.’
With an amused huff, Arran gently lifted Moss in his arms and walked out into the sunshine.
Chapter Fifteen
While Arran carried Moss down to the best point in the river for bathing, he kept a keen ear and nose on Moss’s demeanour. The sour odour of anxiety had left him and his pulse was normal—relaxed, even.
This was a stark contrast to earlier, when Moss had more or less had a full-blown panic attack while seated on Arran’s cock.
Until that point, the beast in him had approved greatly of satiating its desire to dominate Moss. To rule his body without restraint, even if his limbs were restrained.
Arran drank in each of Moss’s forced orgasms and thrilled over his euphoric scent. He would keep Moss in blissed-out subjugation for as long as his body held up to it.
But when Moss’s panic hit, the beast pulled back immediately.Protect,it snarled.Defend.
It was still snarling in the back of Arran’s mind as he walked to the river. It wanted to know who had betrayed Moss’s trust. Who had hurt him with such everlasting influence?
Elsie was one, certainly. Arran almost wished she wasn’t dead, so that he could have the satisfaction of killing her again for every wrong she had inflicted on the tender creature in his arms.
But there was also another, even darker part of him pondering Moss’s breakdown. The part that secretly relishedit. Moss had asked to beunmade.And he’d totally unravelled under Arran’s command.
Arran suppressed a loathsome quiver of arousal—now was not the time. He’d jumped so fast at Moss’s request to be used. Hadn’t given any thought to the implications of it. He’d promised Moss he would never hurt him.
Arran reached the river, stopping at a point where it was narrow but the perfect depth and flow for bathing. He waded in, up to his waist, and Moss unfolded from his arms with a sigh. He’d kept his coat on, and it fanned out around him on the placid current as he sank into the cool water.
