“I’ll have you know I had Daddy Dearest sign off on all my plans. Which means, you’remine. We’re almost out of the booster and it’s your turn to produce like the little golden goose you are.”
He bites the plastic cap off of the autoinjector before grinning maniacally down and slamming it into my arm.
A started gasp leaves my throat, still hoarse from the shock and my screams.
“What—what did you—“ My words are cut off again, this time, not by a shock, but by a nauseating wave of heat through my veins.
It radiates out from my arm and through my body, marching its way through my veins with every beat of my heart.
I claw at my arm, my nails digging into the pale flesh as I try and dig it out.
I can’t do this.
No. This isn’t happening right now.
This can’t be happening.
All I seem to do is irritate the injection sight, my nails breaking the skin and drawing blood.
“Damn, no wonder they apparently had you bitches in restraints back at the facility.” Jett grabs my wrists and pins them in a painful grip that has my bones grinding against each other. “Thought it was ‘cause the people in charge were kinky motherfuckers, but maybe they had a point about you guys hurting yourselves. Lucky for you, I have everything all set up for you.”
“Set—set up?” I pant, a whimper leaving my throat as he hauls me to my feet.
The burning heat is making its way lower and lower on my body, working its way past my ribs and down my stomach.
It makes all of me feel like a raw, open nerve. Every touch, every sensation is heightened, narrowed into a singleminded focus.
I feel dizzy with it all. Like I’m simultaneously watching my body from above and experiencing more sensation than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
“Yeah, your new home,” he grins, dragging me down the steps.
My feet scramble for purchase against the dirt, but my fuzzy socks do nothing to help give me purchase.
He stops outside the open door of a transport cage, holding me up against his body.
I want to vomit. His thick, moldy scent grows even more intense with his obvious arousal and attraction.
But instead of my strawberry shortcake scent turning sour and bitter with disgust, to my absolute horror, it grows sweeter. Even to my own senses, it has a nearly overpowering artificial aftertaste, but that doesn’t seem to bother Jett at all.
He lowers his head, trailing his nose up the column of my neck.
“God, your scent,” he growls.
I try and squirm away from him when I feel his wet tongue against my skin. His grip on my wrist just turns punishing at my struggle, a growl rising in his chest that sends terror skating down my spine.
I dry heave, my insides trembling at the implications of what’s happening.
That seems to snap Jett out of whatever territorial alpha haze he was in because he immediately shoves me away, practically throwing me inside the transport cage.
I guess he doesn’t want me to vomit on him. Again.
As he drives me to the concrete box-like building I first met Rage, the one with the thick metal doors and cells, my shoulders start to tremble with not-so-silent sobs.
This can’t be happening.
He’s obviously injected me with something. A drug of some sort.
Shame threatens to choke me when I realize that pulsing heat has made its way between my legs.
