Her eyes were glassy, her chest heaving. She didn’t interrupt.
“You are coming with me,” I said. “To that pack meeting. With my knot still dripping out of you. With my scent soaked into your skin. With your thighs marked from where I held you down while you begged me not to stop.”
She moaned—low, quiet, full of shame and need.
“And I dare anyone—anyone in that room—to look at you with anything less than respect. I dare any one of those bastards to question who you are. Because if even one of them lays their eyes on you with lust or judgment or anything other than reverence—I will rip their f*****g eyes out.”
Her breath hitched.
“I’ll rip their eyes out,” I repeated, slower this time, “and feed them to the council wolves. And then I’ll make them watch while I f**k you over the meeting
