“I mean… true,” Whiskey says at length. “Bro’s so shy and aloof, he’s practically a cryptid. Unless he found one as feral and unhinged as he is.”
I sigh. “Perhaps.”
Whiskey’s already pacing again like a grizzly bear in a cage. If even I feel like the walls are closing in to the extent my skin is prickling with awareness, Whiskey is certainly feeling it too. It’s no wonder Wraith likes it down here. It’s practically a labyrinth.
“We should go,” I say, already turning to head back the direction we came from. “The energy is off in here.”
“Nah. I wanna keep looking.”
I frown at him. “For what, exactly? Didn’t you just say yourself Wraith must have taken her to the pack house?”
Whiskey shrugs his big shoulders, but the movement isn’t as casual as usual. He’s tense. “Clues and shit.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We don’t need clues right now. We can come back later.”
He ignores me, lumbering off in the other direction.
“Whiskey!” I call after him, unable to keep the frustration from bleeding into my voice.
He flips me off.
Oh, for the love of?—
I growl under my breath, jogging after him. “We have to go before this place makes us lose our minds. The darkness, the shadows, the scent—it’s all too much. We have to leave.”
“Wraith manages just fine.”
“Wraith isalready feral,Whiskey.”
Whiskey still isn’t stopping. Against my better judgment, I reach out and catch him by the sleeve.
That does it.
Whiskey rounds on me and his body slams into mine, crushing me against the wall with enough force to expel the air from my lungs.
"You want me to calm down?" he growls, his breath hot against my ear as his furnace-hot body presses against my front and his thigh shoves between mine, pinning me in place like a moth to a board. "Maybe you should fuckin' make me."
The pressure of his thick thigh pressing against my groin sends a confusing jolt through me. I don't even think he meant to do that, but I'm afraid he'll notice how my spine goes rigid at the contact.
Fuck.
I try to shift away but there's nowhere to go. Just more Whiskey. He's a goddamn mountain of muscle beneath all the padding, and even though I’m not much shorter than him, he easily weighs twice what I do.
My heart hammers so hard I swear he must feel it. Heat prickles in my face, my neck, pools low in my groin like liquid fire where his thigh grinds against my cock.
I can’t be getting fuckinghardfrom this.
This isn't—we don't?—
"What exactly is happening here?" I barely recognize my own voice, strangled and stripped of its usual cool control.
His eyes lock on mine, honey-brown nearly eclipsed by black. His massive hands bracket my head against the wall, fingers splayed on the damp tile. For a second, his gaze drops to my mouth behind the mask, lingering there as if he can see through the fabric.
He wouldn’t try to kiss me.
Would he?
If he does, I’ll bite his fucking lips off.
