Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out. I think I’ll just go on back to—”
“Don’t move, Jaime.” He went nose to nose with her. “You can keep on playing games, or you can acknowledge that I’m your mate, and we’ll discuss it like adults. Choose.”
“Your mate? You’re kidding, right?” Before she could see it coming, he wrapped one arm around her, pinning her own to her sides. With his free hand, he put pressure on the baroreceptor in the carotid artery at the base of her neck where it met her shoulder. Ten seconds or so later, she passed out.
God, who the hell was moaning? Oh, it was her, Jaime realized dazedly as she opened her eyes. It took no more than five seconds to remember exactly why she was in that daze. It was never a nice feeling waking up after blacking out, but it was worse when it had been your damn mate who sent you to dreamland. She’d kill the jerk.
Quickly it registered in her brain that that might be a little difficult right now. Not only were her wrists bound together, but they were pinned above her head. Pinned to a tree. Yes, two thick ropes—the same kind that he used for his cruel assault course—were securing her body to a tree; one was looped around her waist and the other was looped around her tied wrists. She really was going to kill him.
“Dante? Dante, what the hell is this?”
He didn’t appear or respond, but she knew he was there. Knew it. Repeatedly she squirmed and struggled within her bonds, ignoring the burning sensation it left on the flesh of her wrists and stomach. But no matter what she did, neither knot loosened even slightly. Similarly, the tie binding her wrists didn’t give. Because of how her hands were joined closely, as if in prayer, the only things her claws would have sliced open if she unsheathed them were her hands. So, yeah, okay, she had to face the fact that she was stuck to a tree. “I know you’re there. Get over here and untie me.” Her wolf was ready to tear out his throat.
A few moments later, Jaime watched as Dante slowly strolled out of the trees. He didn’t come close. He stopped at least five feet away from her, stiff as a board. He didn’t speak, didn’t move his gaze from hers, didn’t move at all. It was kind of eerie. Worse, his expression was completely blank.
There was no devilish smile, no playful twinkle in his eyes. “Untie me.” No response. “Now, Dante.” Nothing. “Stop being a jerk, Popeye! You want to talk? Fine, we’ll talk. Now untie me.” Still nothing.
Okay, now she was really freaked out. She had to wonder if this was what he was like when he was interrogating intruders, if this was that “zone” that Trey had mentioned. He wasn’t going to torture her into admitting he was her mate, was he? No, Dante wouldn’t hurt her. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that he would never ever hurt her.
When Dante saw the flash of fear on her face, he almost caved. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He knew she was spooked and feeling vulnerable, but that was the whole idea. He knew just how stubborn she could be. If Jaime didn’t want to do something, nothing in the world could make her. As such, if she wanted to put those damn walls of hers up again and keep him out, there was no way to get them down again. Not unless he stripped her of them. Not unless he made her as vulnerable and unguarded as she’d been when she held Kye in her arms. The only way to get her to admit the truth to both him and to herself was to lower those walls for just a minute.
Surprising Jaime, the robotic version of her male slowly came toward her. Although he didn’t close the distance between them, she could feel the heat emanating from him and covering her like a blanket. If he reached out, he could touch her. But he didn’t. And that unblinking stare was too eerie for words.
She kicked out at him, but he caught her foot and pulled off her shoe, slinging it aside.
Instinctively, she kicked out with her other foot, only for him to do the same damn thing. Irate beyond belief, she repeatedly kicked out at him, growling and snarling. Although she managed to make contact a few times, the big, overgrown male didn’t even flinch. In fact, he waited patiently, like a parent might do for a toddler having a tantrum.
Weary and panting, she finally stilled. “Let me down, Dante,” she said unsteadily. It wasn’t just her anxiety that had her feeling shaky. It was the intense, crushing, overwhelming urge to have him inside her, to mark him, and to have him mark her. In spite of how freaked she was feeling, need was curdling low in her belly, and she was wet and aching. Going by the low growl he released as his nostrils flared, he’d sensed it.