CLARE – POV
Feral. That's what he was.
Not seductive. Not sly. Not cunning.
Just a slobbering, psychotic mutt with one goal: break me before the hunt even began.
I'd thought I could play him. Charm him. Drug him.
But I'd underestimated just how fucked up a horny wolf could be.
Instead of dragging me to some quiet corner where I could work my little escape trick, this freak had slammed me against the wall and started slobbering all over my neck like a dog tasting meat.
I gagged as his mouth dragged wet and hot down my skin.
Disgusting.
His hands were worse—wandering, forceful. He grunted like he was proud of it.
So much for charm. So much for playing smart.
I clenched my fists, screamed inwardly, but kept my voice soft and coaxing.
Or… I tried.
"Why don't we go somewhere… more comfortable?" I whispered, trying to make it sound seductive.
He snorted. Actually snorted. Then laughed—a cruel, raspy sound that crawled down my spine.
