Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Remy, stop,” he rumbles the moment I turn my back to him. “Goddammit, I said stop.”
I storm along the road toward the cabin, eager to escape his suffocating presence. He eventually catches up, gripping my biceps and spinning me around so fast I nearly stumble. His claws poke through his fingertips, snagging in my coat and ripping into the fabric.
“You smell like him.” His words are spat out as though they taste rotten.
I glower at him, hoping I can melt him with my fiery glare. His grip on my arms prevents me from signing anything back to him. Since he won’t let me speak, I hit him with a million hate-filled thoughts, injecting them into our bond as quickly and forcefully as I can. He remains an impassive statue, but I hope he feels each one, a violent whip like leather to a bare ass.
One day I’ll leave this place. Far away from Cyrus Hames and his controlling nature. I’ll go to college, meet people my age, and have fun. If I want to kiss random guys, I will. If I want to get blow jobs or give them, I will. If I want to fuck or get fucked, I will.
I’m so tired of his bullshit.
He protects me from nothing when he should be protecting me from himself. No one hurts me but him. It’s always him. His words and glares and touch.
Not the other packmates or the sheriff or the cute dog groomer.
Definitely not Cash.
Just Cy.
It’s always been Cy.
As though he plucked me from the forest and thought to himself, “I think I’ll take home this kid to terrorize and micromanage for the rest of my days.”
I wasn’t given a choice. I was forced to live with him. Forced into a family that doesn’t treat me like an equal but more of an asset they must protect. I’m nothing more than an antique vase or a restored car. Look but don’t touch. Don’t take it out of the garage because it might get ruined.
I’m tired of being fragile. So fucking tired.
Our stares hold for a long time, neither of us backing down. He force-feeds his intimidation vibes through our bond, but I’m used to ignoring him and cutting him off whenever I feel like it. I glare at him, letting him see just how much I care.
“Shower,” he barks out. “I can’t take the smell of him. And don’t ever sneak out of my fucking house again.”
I jerk out of his hold, offer him two middle fingers, and storm home where I most definitely do not shower off the scent of my very first kiss.
Screw Cy.
I’m eighteen now. I’ll do what I want.
He’ll just get the hell over it.
Cyrus
I wake to the distinct sound of gravel beneath tires. Alarm shoots through me, electrocuting me with lingering memories from last night. As I throw on clothes, I attempt to put a lid on my fury.
He ran off into the woods with that kid.
They kissed.
A snarl of frustration vibrates through me. My wolf is still pissed at me for not shifting when I was woken to the unmistakable surge of lust through the bond. It was then I realized Remy was missing. Somewhere close but not in our cabin. I’d ached to shift, race through the woods, and tear apart who was on the other end of that kiss with my teeth and claws. By some miraculous feat, I managed to keep the beast leashed and only incurred minimal damage on the perpetrator.
Hard raps on the front door once again alert me to the visitor. I yank on a flannel, not bothering to button it, and stalk toward the door. With an annoyed grunt, I fling open the door, a little surprised to see the sheriff on my porch.
“Morning,” I greet, my voice raspy from lack of sleep.
“Can I come in?” His brows tug together, and his jaw is clenched. “We need to talk.”
“I’ll start some coffee.” With a nod, I motion for him to follow me into the kitchen. “Any word on the Easton brothers?”
He clears his throat and takes a seat at the kitchen table while I start the coffeemaker. “Spoke to them this morning. Went by to see them first thing.”
“Oh?” While the coffee brews, I lean my hip on the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “What did they have to say?”
He scrubs a palm over his handsome face and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Did you put your hands on the kid brother Cash?”
My blood runs cold, and it takes everything in me to suppress a growl. “I thought he was attacking Remy.”
Jax’s gaze sharpens as he studies me. “I see.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“He didn’t have to say anything. The dislocated shoulder said enough.”
The coffeemaker signals that it’s finished. I take the moment to turn away from him, pouring a couple of mugs full of stout black coffee and not bothering with cream or sugar. It’s going to be one of those days.