Teeth first, I lunged, biting and sucking at his bottom lip. His body sagged against mine, heavy, solid. I pulled back and let my magic slip into my voice. “Show me.”
My magic came out, rolling around us until he soaked it all in. He grunted in response, his hands tightening, and I knew my power had settled into him.
“Show me what you desire most. Use me. Let it out.”
When I looked up, my blood ran cold.
Clouded yellow wolf eyes stared back, not with lust, but hatred. Old, soul-carving hatred. The kind reserved for betrayal.
“Nisha, you bitch!” he growled, slamming my wrist into the wall so hard it made a dent. Thank god I had preternatural healing, or else that would’ve really hurt.
My brain cleared of my lustful fog and went into hyperdrive. This wasn’t my demon. The scent was wrong. The voice too. Familiar, yes, but not intimately. He could’ve been anyone, some bitter client, a jealous suitor, or a stalker who’d watched me from the shadows.
And now, thanks to my power, he wasn’t seeingme.He was seeingher, this Nisha—what he desired. Based on his reaction, I could also guess she had gutted him emotionally.
“You left me for my uncle?” he snarled. “You thoughthisdick was better?”
He flipped me onto the bed, yanking my arms behind me. I fought, kicked, thrashed, but he maneuvered like an eel. “I’ll fucking show you.”
My brain screamed for an out—Think!Father trained you for this. Riot drilled you for this.
But nothing came to me.
I’d always had someone there to catch me, to protect me, to love me, but now there was no one here but me.
As his hand climbed up my thigh, a sinking dread filled my stomach. Was this how my birthday was going to end? The Syndicate Flower getting plucked by some werewolf with a desire-filled grudge to rape the woman who’d left him.
My mom’s face appeared in my head, yelling at me to get up, to fight, to do something. I closed my eyes and gathered my strength, thinking that maybe, possibly, I could slam him with my power again, get him off balance, and wiggle enough to grab my heel with the poisoned knife.
Just as his fingers touched the curve of my ass, something inside of me shifted.
Somethingancientwoke up and turned its head in his direction, a part of me that lurked deep beneath the sparkle and seduction. A predator.
“You’ll wear a collar,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over my neck. “A red one. Would look nice with your red hair.”
That was his mistake.
With a flutter of my wings, I screamed as I shoved as much of my power into him as possible, disorienting him before I kicked my heel back, burying it in his thigh. He roared, hands flying up as he stumbled back and looked at his leg. I flew off the bed, made a beeline for the door, and… almost made it.
He charged after me, grabbing my hair and throwing me into the credenza.
“You fucking whore!”
His voice cracked as his claws sprouted. He was turning. Fuck.
Desperate, I reached up, my fingers touching something cold and sleek—the champagne bottle.
I smashed it on the edge of the credenza, shattering glass into jagged teeth before plunging it into his eye and yanking it out.
Blood sprayed the wall and TV as he screamed. His claws raked down my arm, but I didn’t feel it. I was already gone.
Somewhere deeper. Colder. Clearer.
My body moved on instinct—no, not instinct.Bloodline.
I was a Glovefox. I would not be beaten by a thing like him.
He tripped and fell. I rose over him, looking down as he cried, both because of his pain and his lost love, but I felt nothing. Not when I spread my legs over him, not when I raised my hand with the jagged bottle in hand and stabbed him in the chest.
