Page 65 of Pack Owned
“I know,” Liam cuts in, understanding flashing in his eyes. “The moment it’s time, we’ll back you. Every step of the way. He won’t know what hit him.”
“Fucking right.” I can’t stop the burning need in me to protect what’s mine.
“Ryker, there’s something else,” Liam says, his voice dropping an octave, a clear sign he’s about to spill some serious shit.
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”
“Kayla’s perfuming is growing stronger,” he starts, and I can already feel the tension ratchet up a notch inside me. “Tonight, I found her in the library, asleep.”
“And?” I’m on edge, every muscle coiled tight like a spring.
Liam runs a hand through his blond hair. “She was having a dream... a sex one. The moans, the way she moved… Fuck, Ryker, her scent was intoxicating. It took everything in me not to claim her right then and there.”
A primal possessiveness roars through me. I want to brand her, to etch a claim on that creamy skin, to be the only one who gets to coax those breathless sounds from her lips.
“Did you fucking touch her?” My voice comes out a low growl laced with barely contained aggression.
“No.” He holds my gaze steadily. “But it’s getting harder to resist. And not just for me. All of us. Her stepfather is a threat, sure, but right now, we’re the ones closing in on her, whether she’s ready or not.”
“Shit.” The image of Kayla writhing in her sleep is branded into my mind. “We gotta keep it together. For her.”
“Exactly.” Liam drinks his beer. “We’ve got to tread carefully, or we’ll end up pushing her away. Especially after what she’s gone through.”
The silence stretches between us, filled with the unspoken understanding of our predicament. I’m caught in the eye of a storm, pulled between the need to protect, to possess, and to pacify.
“Anything happens to her...” My voice trails off as the promise hangs heavy in the air.
“We won’t let it,” Liam confirms.
I nod, trying to tamp down the turmoil churning inside me, but as I head back toward the hallway, my thoughts are a snarled mess. Kayla’s in danger from her past and probably sees us as threats, too. We just have to prove to her we aren’t like her asshole stepdad. That she can trust us. Let her lead.
“Fuck.” There’s no turning back now. Kayla is ours.
And I’m hers, and hell help anyone who tries to hurt what’s mine.
CHAPTER 21
DANE
Iwake up with a hard-on, my mind on Kayla—her scent, her inner strength, her rare smiles.
Fuck! I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, not when she’s still learning to trust us. She needs patience and protection, not the primal urges of an Alpha, but it’s so damn difficult when my instinct is to claim her, to show her I can make her climax.
I slip a hand beneath the waistband of my boxer briefs, fingers wrapping around my length. The tension coils tighter with each stroke, a desperate attempt to quell the fire she unknowingly fuels within me. It’s a temporary fix, but it’s something.
Kayla’s face swims behind my closed eyelids—dark blue eyes and full pink lips. My breath comes out in harsh pants as I chase the release, chasing the image of her delicate form and the dark blonde hair that cascades over her shoulders, half-hiding her face.
“Fuck,” I hiss through clenched teeth, the pressure building. With a final, shuddering groan, I come, the waves of pleasure laced with a pang of guilt. I should be stronger than this,disciplined. Jerking off only provides fleeting relief, leaving me with a hollow emptiness that nothing can fill except having her wrapped around me.
It’s only her who can make this right, can soothe this savage need, but she’s not ready… not yet. Until she is, I’ll shoulder this torment, bear the weight of this desire alone. For Kayla, for that hint of something more in her wary gaze, I’ll wait. I’ll fight the very instincts that define me… for her.
Not wanting to waste another day obsessing over her, I drag myself out of the tangled sheets. The shower’s cold spray hits my overheated skin, but it does jack shit to wash away Kayla’s sweet, floral scent that’s burned into my mind and every inch of me. With brisk, mechanical motions, I scrub my skin, trying not to think about touching her, tasting her.
The cool air greets me as I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist with a tug. Quickly, I dry, eager to see her.
I button up my shirt and thread the belt through the loops of my jeans. Dressing is automatic, a ritual to regain the control that slips when it comes to her. Kayla. Even her name threatens my restraint.
In the kitchen, I slap together a basic breakfast—scrambled eggs with cheese, toast slathered in honey, and sausage patties sizzling in the skillet. I need something to distract me from the all-consuming thoughts of her.
