Kneeling by the bed, I reach under it for him. I find something, I think it’s a leg so I start dragging him out. Sharp pain lances through me making me cry out but I don’t let go, I pull him all the way out. His sharp little teeth are buried into my arm, his green eyes glaring at me over his mouthful of my flesh. Taking a handful of his hair, I yank him off. He growls at me and tries to twist out of my grip. But I have a good hold of him. He is not going anywhere.
Now I have him, I can check him over. My wolf needs to know he is okay.
Fitz is stark naked, and I hate it. He wouldn’t have chosen to be and I can’t stand the thought of Callum stripping him. The very thought is abhorrent.
The potent scent of his heat coils around me, making my dick stand to attention. His emerald eyes are wide and full of rage. He tries to claw at me so I grab his wrist and twist his arm against his back and hold him in front of me.
He is lost in his heat and in anger. I don’t think he has gone fully feral, but he is not far from it. He has only just learned how to shift and it didn’t exactly go smoothly. So it’s not surprising he is a little lost to his wild side. I also guess from his point of view, constantly trying to kill me and escape, but repeatedly failing, must be as frustrating as hell. Not that I have any sympathy for him at all. But I can see how all of that, when combined with what is only his second heat, he has gotten into this state.
All things considered, it’s surprising he is not worse. It demonstrates a strength of character. I clench my jaw, yeah he has great tenacity. In trying to murder me.
Tightening my grip on him, I frogmarch him to my room. My angry thoughts shift and I wonder if he was scared when Callum tried to help him. Images of Fitz staring at me with tears in his eyes when he thought I wanted him to spread his legs for Callum, flow through my mind and make my guts twist. I shake my head to try to clear it. The little shit shouldn’t have tried to decapitate me. He deserves all the consequences.
My arm hurts like hell and blood is dripping off of it. He took a proper chunk out of me. I grab my ridiculous pink handcuffs and cuff him to my bed. He yanks on them and wriggles. The sight of him naked and tied to my bed does things to me. I swallow uncomfortably.
I don’t want to take him. I also really, really want to take him. I’m so conflicted. He very nearly killed me. He really isn’t in his right mind. Both are excellent reasons not to. But his heat is calling to me and someone needs to break it.
He gives an almighty yank on the handcuffs and yowls. I lean over to check he hasn’t hurt his wrists and that the cuffs are going to hold. He kicks me and his teeth sink into my pec. Ow! The little fucker! It takes all my strength to prise him off of me. That’s it! I’ve had enough of being bitten. There is a ball gag in my drawer.
His eyes widen when I hold it up.
“You go around biting people, you get muzzled,” I tell him.
He thrashes and bucks as I put it on him. But I get it on without too much problem. As soon as I get the final clip in place, I jump back to safety. I look down at him and groan. His hands are cuffed above his head. His green eyes are glaring at me in heat addled fury over the ball gag. It’s quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My cock throbs in agreement.
I stagger back into a chair. He can’t hurt anyone now. He can’t hurt himself. I can just sit here and wait. Wait for his heat to burn itself out. Watch him writhe and moan, spread his legs and buck his hips as he begs wordlessly and desperately to be filled. It will be utter torment for him, no less than he deserves. It should be satisfying to watch him suffer. It will be sweet revenge as well as justice.
The only problem is, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be utter torment for me too.
Chapter twenty-one
Elevenminutesandthirty-nineseconds I have been sitting in this chair while Fitz rages in his heat on my bed. I don’t think I can do this. My will power is hanging on by a thread.
I know he wants me, needs me. I also know he hates that he wants me.
I want him, and I don’t want him to suffer. I also don’t want him and do want him to suffer. I don’t want to take him while he is this lost in his heat and half feral. And I do. I want his growls and his moans. I want him to fight me. I want to both hate fuck him and make love to him.
He doesn’t really want me. I’m just an alpha whose scent is calling to him because I’m right here. Without his heat burning through him he wouldn’t want sex at all, least of all with me. Part of me longs to respect that and not touch him at all. Darker parts of me yearn to relish in it. What greater satisfaction is there than making your enemy moan for you? It would be vindictive to reduce him to a sobbing, writhing mess, and all so good.
And it wouldn’t be entirely evil. His heat does need to break. Last time giving him my cock and knot was the only thing that did so. Leaving him alone could cause him to burn up and die.
It’s a mess. I’m a mess. What the hell am I going to do? Whatever action I choose, part of me loses. But then again, I suppose that means part of me wins whatever I do. That should feel liberating. No bad decisions here.
Fitz arches his back on the bed and cries out around the gag. He turns his head to me. His emerald eyes are full of hate and hunger. He stares at me and I’m caught helplessly in his gaze as his expression morphs to imploring. His heat has won over his rage. He bucks on the bed again. The heady scent of his deep, deep arousal fills my every pore. Seeping into every part of my body.
I watch him writhe frantically on the bed. A creature of pure lust and carnal desire. He wants to be fucked. He needs to be filled. In this moment, that is all he is. Burning sensuality and wantonness. He can’t beg with words because of the gag but he is pleading with his body and his eyes.
My cock throbs in response. Arousal thrums through my body. Fuck it, I’ve already fucked him four times, what harm is once more going to do?
I get to my feet, and he whimpers a noise of appreciation. Slowly, I undress. Giving myself a chance to change my mind. As well as to torment him. The noises he is making are divine. He is thrashing against his bonds like a rabid starving animal trying to reach a tasty piece of meat. If he wasn’t bound to my bed, he would be launching himself at me.
His heat has consumed him utterly and he is nothing but instinct and need. I love it far too much. It’s disconcerting to discover just how much of a sick bastard I am.
As I approach the bed, he whines and spreads his legs wide in invitation. The look in his eyes is ravenous. Like he wants to consume me completely. My wolf is very happy to be a willing sacrifice. I’m fairly convinced on the idea myself.
I place a hand on his hip. He is hot to the touch. His heat burning in more ways than one. With my other hand, I line my cock up to his slick drenched hole. I rest my tip against his entrance. He throws back his head and yowls through the gag.
“Oh, do you want this?” I tease, adding just the slightest hint of pressure but making no further move.
