• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The three walked onto the blue mats and V shut the door most of the way behind them.

“So where is Wrath?” Phury asked as they sat down. “I thought he was here to witness the whole thing.”

“He’s busy.” No doubt.

Z stared at the door. “That cop’s big, V. That cop is really big.”

“I know.” V laid himself out flat on his back and took a drag. As he exhaled, he refused to look at his brothers.

“V, he’s really big.”

“Don’t even go there. It’s too early to know what he’s going to be like.”

Z rubbed over his skull trim. “I’m just saying. He’s—”

“I know.”

“And he’s got Wrath’s blood in him.”

“I know. But look, it’s too soon, Z. It’s just too soon. Besides, his mother isn’t a Chosen.”

Z’s yellow eyes grew annoyed. “Stupid fucking rule if you ask me.”

Chapter Forty

Butch woke up on the gurney in the midst of taking a deep breath in through his nose. He was…smelling something. Something that pleased him greatly. Something that made him hum with power. Mine, a voice said in his head.

He tried to shake the word off, but it just got louder. With every breath he took, the single syllable repeated in his brain until it was like the beat of his heart: Involuntary. The source of his very life. The seat of his soul.

With a groan, he sat up on the table, only to lurch off balance and nearly fall onto the floor. As he caught himself, he looked down at his arms. What the—no, this was wrong. These were not his arms—or…shit, his legs either. His thighs were huge.

This is not me, he thought.

Mine, came the voice again.

He looked around. God, everything in the clinical room was crystal clear, like his eyes were windows that had been wiped clean. And his ears…he looked up at the fluorescent lights. He could actually hear the electricity going through the tubes.

Mine.

He inhaled again. Marissa. That scent was Marissa. She was close by—

His mouth opened of its own accord, and he let out a deep, rhythmic purr that ended in a growled word: Mine.

His heart pounded as he realized the control tower in his head had been completely overtaken. No longer logical, he was being ruled by a possessive instinct that made what he’d felt toward Marissa before look like a passing fancy.

Mine!

He glanced down at his hips and got a load of what was doing in his now way-too-small boxers. His cock had grown along with the rest of him, and it was punching out at the stretched-thin cotton. The thing twitched as he looked at it as if to get his attention.

Oh…God. His body wanted to mate. With Marissa. Now.

As if he’d called her name, she appeared in the doorway. “Butch?”

With no warning, he became a torpedo, his body aiming itself at her and shooting across the room. He took her down to the floor and kissed her hard, mounting her while he grabbed the front of her slacks and wrenched the zipper down. Grunting, straining, he peeled her pants off her smooth legs, spread her thighs roughly, and buried his face in her core.

As if he were a split personality, he watched himself act from a distance, seeing his hands shove her shirt up and capture her breasts while he tongued her. Then he was surging forward, baring fangs he somehow knew how to use and biting through the front of her bra. He kept trying to get himself to stop, but he was caught in some kind of centrifugal force, and Marissa…she was the axis he whirled around.

From the maelstrom, he groaned, “I’m sorry…oh, God…I can’t stop…”

She grabbed on to his face…and stilled him completely. It was unbelievable and he didn’t know how she did it, it was just…his body came to a total halt. Which made him realize she had the oddest control over him. If she said no, he would stop. On a dime. Period.

Except she wasn’t putting the brakes on. Her eyes glowed with an erotic light. “Take me. Make me your female.”

She tilted her hips to him, and his body shot right back into the frenzy. Rearing up, he ripped apart the waistband of his boxers and slammed into her with the things hanging open. He penetrated her so deep, stretched her so wide, he felt