SAMANTHA
Jayce laughed.
It was not a laugh I had heard before. This one came from somewhere deep and dark, somewhere that had never known kindness. Evil dripped from every syllable.
Before I could react, his hands moved. One yanked the strap of my bra. The other tore the fabric clean off my body and dipped into my panties, brushing against my clitoris.
He ran his fingers against my clit and pinched my labia. "Mmmm….so soft," he muttered.
I gasped, but the sound died in my throat as he shoved the lace into my mouth.
My own bra, stuffed between my teeth like a gag.
I couldn't speak or scream. I could only muffle weak, pathetic sounds that no one would hear.
Then I heard footsteps and voices that were coming closer.
"Someone is crying," a deep voice said. "Is it a pregnant she-wolf?"
Another voice answered, closer now. "Gamma, let's check where that sound is coming from. Is it an attack?"
The pack guards–warriors. They were pounding toward us.
Panic flooded my veins like ice water. I wanted the earth to open. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. I was standing in a garden at dawn with my robe hanging open, my breasts exposed, a madman's hands on my body, and a piece of my own underwear stuffed in my mouth.
The shame was too much. It burned and it choked. It made me wish I had never woken up.
Jayce, meanwhile, was unperturbed. He didn't even glance toward the voices. His hand continued its lazy, cruel journey over my body. He traced my boobs, continuing to bite at them so menacingly.
He treated me like I was an instrument and he was playing a song only he could hear.
"Isn't this exciting?" His voice was mockery wrapped in silk. "Tell me you're not happy. Tell me you don't want this."
I couldn't tell him anything. The bra filled my mouth.
His hand slid lower. His eyes glittered.
"Do you want to be shared with my brothers? Would you like that? All three of us, taking turns?"
The mate bond prickled at my stomach. A strange, burning sensation that I recognized but couldn't name. I had heard stories. When mates became sexually active but did not claim each other, the bond fought back. It punished and it ached.
Was Jayce not feeling it?
Was I alone in this agony?
My heart cracked open. How could the Moon Goddess do this to me? Give me mates who wouldn't claim me? Who treated me like a toy instead of a treasure? Jayce was mad. A lunatic. A deranged mental patient of the highest order. There was no other explanation.
I was shaking. Trembling so hard I could barely stand.
I pulled the bra from my mouth. It fell to the ground.
"What do you want from me?" My voice was broken.
Jayce's expression shifted. The mockery vanished. Something uglier took its place.
"What do I want?" He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "I want you to scream like the last time. I want you to shout. Why did you stop?" His grip tightened. "I love it. Don't you understand? I love your fear. I love your tears. Are you not enjoying yourself?"
This man was cursed.
There was no other word for it. Something had broken inside him long before I arrived. Something that made him crave suffering. Made him feast on distress.
I bit down on my lower lip till I tasted blood.
Humiliation pierced through me like a blade. Jayce didn't care about me. He didn't care about the bond. He didn't care about the warriors whose footsteps were getting louder, closer, almost on top of us. He only cared about his desires. His pleasure. His sick, twisted game.
If I begged, it would only fuel him.
So I said nothing. I stood there, half-naked and trembling, and I said nothing.
He took my silence as permission. He fingered me again. Harder this time. His fingers were bruising, demanding. And my lack of resistance seemed to make him happier than any scream ever could.
The footsteps were right outside the garden now.
I could hear their breathing. Their armor clinking. They were seconds away from turning the corner and seeing everything.
I shut my eyes.
"Please, I prayed to a goddess who had abandoned me long ago. Please don't let them see me like this. Please."
I waited for the worst.
And then– Jayce transformed.
It was not a gradual shift. It was violent, brutal, instant. One moment he was a man. The next, a massive wolf stood where he had been.
Black fur with yellow eyes and teeth the size of my fingers.
My wolf stirred inside me. She wanted to turn too. To fight him and to run. But she was too weak. Too starved. Too broken, so she curled back into nothing.
'So this is their curse,' I realized. 'This is what they become.'
Jayce—the wolf—threw back his head and howled till it shook the leaves. It rattled my bones and he announced his presence to every creature within a mile.
Then he lunged. His massive jaws closed around my waist—gently, impossibly gently—and lifted me off the ground. I dangled from his mouth like a kitten carried by its mother. My robe flapped open and my hair whipped across my face.
The warriors burst into the garden just as he turned to run.
"Wolfsbane arrows!" someone shouted. "Now!"
But another voice stopped them. "Wait. Look closely. That's Prince Jayce's wolf form."
I saw their faces as we passed. Frozen and terrified. Jayce's Alpha power rolled off him in waves, pressing them into the ground, locking their limbs, sealing their mouths. They couldn't move.
They couldn't shoot. Couldn't do anything but watch as their prince carried me away.
Jayce ran like a cheetah. Faster than anything that size had a right to move. The world blurred around me—trees, rocks, streams, all melting into streaks of green and brown. The wind screamed in my ears. I used my hands to cover my face, afraid of branches, afraid of falling, afraid of everything.
I didn't know how long he ran. Maybe minutes or hours. Time had lost all meaning.
Finally, he stopped.
His jaws opened and I tumbled to the ground.
I lay there, gasping, shaking, too scared to move. Too scared to look at him.
I heard his breathing. Heavy, wet and close. What was next?
Would he finish what he started? Would he hurt me? Would he leave me here to die?