He didn’t. He pushed, attempting to close the distance with authority and violence. His hands tried to force her to the ground, tried to undo the dignity of the woman who stood before him. He snarled words—coarse, possessive things that were nothing more than excuses for cruelty.
“You belong to me,” he hissed. “You always did. Kneel for me, River. Kneel like before. Remember. You owe me that.”
River’s jaw clenched. The old memory—knees on cold earth, humiliation wrapped in what masqueraded as tender romance—rose up sharp as a blade. The smell of pine filled her lungs, and her wolf stirred, annoyed and dangerous. She shoved at him, hard, trying to free herself.
“No,” she said. “You are delusional.”
His face contorted. “Delusional?” He laughed, the sound shredded. “You think you can comm
