Page 15 of A Wolf's Treasure
“I need to go away, before I hurt someone here. Before I hurt you.” She paused, her mouth twisting into something that had no resemblance to a smile. “I feel it rising within me every day, Marc. The anger. The need to cause pain. And more than that. The hunger…”
“Nothing can hurt me more than yer leaving me would.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m no’ wrong!” he shouted. “Fook!” Closing his eyes, he pressed his palms into his pounding temples and took a moment. He wasn’t angry at her. Gods, no. He was angry at himself for ignoring what had been happening right in front of his own fookin’ eyes all this time. For not trying harder to stop her from calling on the evil within her that first time.
For not saving her from herself.
The warmth of her fingers penetrated through his shirt. They slid briefly down his chest, and he dropped his arms. That simple touch was enough to calm the beast inside of him, and he immediately wanted more. Selfish bastard that he was.
Grasping her hand between both of his, he hung on and wouldn’t let go. Even when she tried to pull away. “No, Bronaugh. I’m no’ letting ye go.” He had to force the words out from between clenched teeth.
“You have to, Marc. I’m losing control. I’ll hurt you.”
“Then do it, lass. Hurt me if that’s what ye need.”
She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. And perhaps he had. But life without his Bronaugh would be no life at all.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do. I ken exactly what I’m saying. Do what ye need tae do tae ease th’ beast inside o’ ye, lass. I understand that need, more than ye ken. Ye will no’ hurt me. And even if ye do, I’m a shifter. A werewolf. I’ll heal.”
She shook her head, even as a glimmer of hope sparked in her colorful eyes. “Marc…”
He bared his teeth at her. “Do. It. Bronaugh.”
Tears overflowed onto her cheeks, and his wolf howled at the proof of her pain. Still shaking her head, she tried to pull away. “I just need to go.”
“No.” The word came out more as a growl than anything. And then he was pulling her into his arms and slamming his mouth to hers, needing to feel her soft body against him. Needing to feed the connection between them.
She resisted, pressing her lips together. Not letting him in.
Marc nipped at her bottom lip. Hard. Drawing blood. Desperate. Near crazed with the need to keep her with him.
Bronaugh moaned deep in her throat and gripped his hips, her nails digging through his jeans. Her lips parted, her tongue teasing his.
“Aye, lass,” he whispered against her mouth. “Dinna be afraid. I want this. I want ye.”
A growl that would rival any of his rose within her. She bit at his jaw, his throat. Her hands were under his shirt now, ripping the buttons from the flannel to have better access to his skin.
Marc groaned as her sharp, little teeth sank into the muscle of his pec. With a shove from his wee lass, he was spun around and slammed against the wall where she had been just a moment before. His shirt was ripped from his shoulders, then his jeans were undone, his stiff cock freed and her wee hand wrapped around him.
He kicked off his boots as she tore off the shirt she wore. Lifting her off her feet, he took them to the bed, her legs wrapping around his waist like she was born to be there. She ground her core against him, slick and hot, and Marc’s knees nearly gave out at the feel of her. But he wouldn’t disrespect her by taking her on the floor.
His Bronaugh was like a wild thing in his arms, and he barely made it to the bed before she was rolling him over. Shoving his jeans down to his thighs, she took him in her hand and sank onto him, until he was buried to his balls inside of her. Immediately, she began to move, rocking her hips, fucking him hard.
Their mating was desperate and violent, and Marc ground his jaw together, his wolf clawing near the surface.
With an evil smile, Bronaugh leaned over him, grabbing his hands and holding them down on either side of his head. She took the muscle between his neck and shoulder between her teeth, and with a low growl, she bit down, holding him helpless beneath her as she had her way with him.
He yelled out her name as he came inside of her. Hard. Violent.
But she wasn’t finished with him, yet.
An hour later, Marc sat naked on the floor and cradled her in his lap as she cried. He had bite marks all over him, a few other wounds that were still bleeding, and he thought he’d heard a bone crack in one of forearms the third time around. He glanced around the room. The bed was torn apart, but the rest of the room had survived with a minimum of damage.
However, none of that mattered one wit to him. The only thing he cared about was that the angry reds and oranges had faded from his Bronaugh’s eyes, eventually replaced by the pinks, greens, blues, and yellows he knew. And now they were, once again, the deep, warm brown he associated with her when he had loved her well. He ran the fingers of his good hand through her blonde locks. “Shhhh, Bronaugh lass. It’s alright. Ye dinna do anything tae me that won’t be healed in another hour or so.”
