Free Red and Her Wolf by Marie Hall Page B

and then his hard length was on top of hers, pinning her beneath him. Bucking and screaming, she fought to free herself.
     
    “Stop yelling, lass.” He shoved his face so close to hers, the heat of his body became second skin.
     
    “Get off me,” she wheezed, trying to pound her fists on his hard as steel chest, but she couldn’t move her hands even an inch. Furious, terrified, she did the only thing her wild mind could think of. She bit his forearm.
     
    He hissed as her teeth sank in so deep, the skin broke.
     
    “Lass,” he growled, and she envied the fire in his voice, the deep timbre that flooded her brain with desire and rage, “ doona make me hurt ye. Release me.”
     
    Shaking her head, she bit harder, blood pooled on her tongue and the taste of him saturated her senses. It reeked of death, earth, dark power, and wicked nights. A wolf! He was a wolf. Fear slammed her like a wave, and with it came the hate, that sharp flinty passion that consumed her mind like poison and engulfed her body with adrenaline. Wild, crazy to get out from under him, she yanked with the preternatural strength she’d used to massacre the last wolf she’d fought.
     
    He grunted, but his hands released her. She curled her fingers, dragging her nails down his cheeks, leaving welts behind.
     
    Then he had control of her again. “Damn ye, lassie. I dinna wish to do this yet.”
     
    Light filled his eyes; they glowed even as his mouth curled back like a dog’s muzzle. Large fangs dropped and… her heart was going to explode in her chest. His bite was not savage, but it was deep. He bit her collarbone, making her whimper as his fangs sank in.
     
    There were moans, deep and trembling with a need that bordered on desperation. She was doing it. Alive, consumed by passion, tremors wracked her frame as she panted through the liquid pleasure. Lit with desire, her sanity screamed at her to get away, but her traitorous body could only undulate as the pleasure overwhelmed her with its violence.
     
    “Violet,” her name dropped like a prayer from his lips and that was the catalyst she needed to snap from her stupor.
     
    She shoved him for all she was worth. He was so much stronger than her, he barely budged. A heavy sigh tickled her ear before he kissed her neck so softly it was almost a whisper, he scooted back.
     
    Finally free of the blinding, all-consuming craving for more, she gripped her neck. Blood stained her fingertips, but not as much as she’d thought there would be.
     
    “What did you do to me?” she demanded, lungs still heaving for air, scooting back on her heels until her back was plastered against a gravestone. Traitorous body tingling, not with anger, but with desire so consuming she had to claw her nails into the dirt to keep from crawling back for more.
     
    His eyes were shaded, thoughtful… haunted?
     
    “I’ve marked ye .”
     
    “You what?” Her brows lowered, and she fought a swell of dizziness as she shoved to her feet, slipping her hand casually into her back jean pocket.
     
    Kneeling, he glared up at her. There wasn’t hatred, or even anger, but a sort of shock, as if he couldn’t comprehend what’d just taken place between them. He seemed completely unaware of the vicious bite wound in his arm still oozing blood.
     
    They stared intensely at one another for several moments, she with fury, he with a dawning understanding. He broke first. Standing, he took a step toward her. But this time she was faster, and pulled her pocket knife out, slamming her thumb on the button to release the three inch blade. It wouldn’t kill, but it would hurt.
     
    “Red,” he warned with a shake of his head, “ stop and listen.”
     
    Every hard line of his body flexed as he moved closer. She didn’t want to notice that about him. She didn’t want to care. Fact was , she’d sever his beautiful head from his neck if he came one inch closer.
     
    “Stay back.” She held the knife out, swishing it from side