The monster under my skin flexed as a fresh wave of her sweet scent washed over me. A savage smile split my lips as I charged after her. “Run all you’d like, Ruthless. I’ll catch you. And when I do, I’m going to eat you.”
FIFTEEN
RUTH
Eatme?
If this male were anything other than a werewolf, I’d be game.
But this was a wolf, and I was a bunny. I could literally be game.
I bounded out of his room and through the darkness of his cabin.
For a tense second, I stared at the front door and considered making a break for it. A second later, I dismissed the instinct to run.
I needed his mark. I couldn’t leave without it.
Besides, my heat cycle was making me want to play this twisted game of chase with the big bad wolf.
My eyes swept around his living room as I frantically searched for a hiding place. My heart bottomed out when my attention landed on the animal head trophies mounted to his wall, staring back at me as if in warning.
“What do you think of my collection?”
I whipped around to see the silver-haired male in his bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame with his muscular arms folded over his now bare chest.
He’d stripped down to nothing but gray joggers.
He pushed off the door and prowled toward me. “Should I stuff and mount you among the rest of my kills?”
All sense of self-preservation was gone. Thrown out the window. Because fuck me, this man—this monster—was hot as Hell. Which was exactly where I’d be going, judging by the way my body was reacting to him.
I wanted to resist him. To get his mark without taking any pleasure from the act. Too bad there was no way of ignoring my pussy and the way it throbbed under his glare.
Spinning around, I fled into the kitchen. His heavy footsteps thundered through the room.
My feet froze in place when I spotted the severed head on the kitchen counter, blood oozing off the tile surface and dripping into a pool on the linoleum.
Fucking hell. I couldn’t forget why I was here or the blood on my hands. I couldn’t let myself believe for a second that I was safe with this male. Mates or not, I’d taken something from him I wouldn’t ever be able to give back.
I managed to grab a knife from his knife block—it looked handmade. The wooden handle was created for larger hands, and the blade had weight to it.
With the knife raised, I whipped around, but he was there, grabbing my throat and forcing me to look at his twin’s head.
Shifters often shifted back to the form they frequented the most in death. Casey had clearly been more man than wolf in his life since there was a human head on the counter instead of a wolf’s.
“He’s going to watch. Hope you don’t mind.”
Before I could fully process just how fucked up this all was, he shoved me back against the fridge.
I raised the knife again, but he plucked it from my hand and slammed it at my shoulder.
My eyes closed as I braced myself for the impact. A scream left me. Then, nothing. No stabbing sensation. No pain.
I cracked open an eyelid to see the knife protruding from the fridge. The only thing the blade had punctured was the shirt I wore—his shirt. He hadn’t hurt me. All he’d done was pin me to the fridge.
I could probably slip out of the shirt—ancient instincts telling me to do what bunnies did best and run.But the heat radiating from his body threatened to burn me alive. I had to sate this discomfort.
So, when he bent down to press a kiss to the soft edge of my bunny ear and when he tongued one of my many piercings, I didn’t fight him.
