“I know somewhere safe,” Pace says, still staring at the road.
I nod, thankful, as my body cramps up again, a fresh wave of agony making me curl in on myself in the backseat.
A broken sound rips from my throat, and I fall over onto my side, my body no longer able to hold itself up. I pant through the pain, my face pressed into the blessedly cool leather. Slick is everywhere, coating my thighs, soaking through my shorts.
I feel like I’m either going to pass out or throw up.
Maybe both.
The car’s engine revs beneath me, a deep, angry roar. My body slides across the leather as Pace takes one sharp turn, then another, the movements jarring my already aching frame. Then suddenly, bright fluorescent lights pour through the windows, stark and clinical. He’s pulled into a parking garage. I try to ask if we’re at the clinic, but all that comes out is a desperate, pathetic sob.
The car finally stops, and I lift up, my head swimming. The garage seems to be empty, other than one other car in the far corner. It’s covered in a thick layer of dust, looking like it hasn’t moved in years.
Pace gets out, his door slamming shut with a heavy echo. A moment later, my back door opens, flooding the car with the dusty smell of the garage and the cold rush of rain.
Inching my way toward the open door, the first thing I see is the grimy concrete wall of the building, and I realize with a jolt of fear that he parked at a weird angle, blocking the car in.
“What—” But before I can say another word, Pace crawls into the car, his massive frame filling the space. He pushes me onto my back, one hand on my chest, and the fear is immediate and absolute.
His eyes are dark, predatory, his pupils blown wide with lust.
“Wait, no!” I panic, and a frightened whimper slips from my throat.
My senses are in overdrive, everything too loud despite the only sound being the gentle rush of the rain against the concrete roof outside. I can hear my own heart hammering, the blood rushing in my ears, and the low growl building in his chest.
I’m trapped.
Oh, god! What have I done?
Pace moves over me, a cage of muscle and heat that blocks out the faint garage light.
Fear grips me, cold and sharp, as he looms over me, his big body so close I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. His shadow swallows me, and the scent of him—leather and steel and raw alpha power—is suffocating, stealing the air from my lungs.
I can’t move or breathe. I can only lie here and wait for whatever lewd thing this stranger is going to do to me.
“P-please.” A high-pitched cry cuts through my words. “Don’t hurt, hurt me.”
“Never,” Pace whispers as his dark eyes dart all over my face.
My terror is a living thing, twisting hard in my gut, but underneath it, the treacherous fire of my heat still burns, a sickening pulse of want that warms with my instinct to survive.
“Such a pretty thing,” Pace rumbles, his voice a low vibration that I feel in my bones. “So fucking sweet.” Then he kisses me. Hard.
He nips at my bottom lip before his tongue pushes into my mouth. I flush, a hot, humiliating wave of color rising to my cheeks. I hate it, but I can’t stop the preening pleasure that blooms in my chest at his compliment. But then, without warning, a deep, suffocating shame cuts through my heat, gripping me like a vice.
This is my fault.
Pace was only trying to help me.
He was going to take me to a clinic.
But my pheromones, my weak, treacherous body, messed with his head, turning this good alpha into this insatiable beast.
And once his mind clears, he’s going to hate me for what I’ve made him do.
I always ruin everything.
“So sweet,” Pace whispers as his hand leaves my chest, sliding down to rest on my hip. He squeezes me before pushing his thumb under the hem of my rain-soaked t-shirt. He caresses my skin, a slow, deliberate circle, and the pain in my body erupts.
