Bound in Sin (Bound #3)(2)

That bad feeling got worse. This looked like private quarters to her. Like they were taking her–

A door jerked open to her left. And then, right there, bigger and even sexier than she remembered, with wide shoulders that brushed the edges of the doorframe, a muscled and bare chest, a wild curl of black hair, and eyes that blazed golden fire…right there stood the werewolf alpha, Drake Wyler.

The man she’d loved and lost before.

The man she needed now.

But at that moment, he stared at her with so much fury she almost felt the heat of his glittering gaze burn her skin.

“Paige.” Her name was a growl of rage. Okay, so coming here hadn’t been the best idea but–

His nostrils flared.

Hell. Her whole body tensed. With werewolves, their sense of smell was so strong that it only took one whiff to realize… “Vampire.” The word was a curse.

She didn’t flinch. Well, perhaps she did. When he’d known her before, his voice had always been softened with need, with love.

Not hardened with deadly rage.

He grabbed her, not with his claws out, like the other werewolf had, but Drake wrapped his hands around her shoulders and pulled her over the threshold of the room–and into his arms.

Then he kissed her. His lips pressed down on hers, and because she’d wanted him, for so long, Paige kissed him back. Her mouth opened beneath his. Her tongue met his, and the desire that only Drake seemed to be able to stir burned through her.

Her heart raced. Her hips arched toward him even as her nipples tightened against his chest. One kiss…and she craved. It was the way it had always been with them. She’d never wanted anything more than she wanted him.

And she’d never been meant to have anything less.

His tongue slid over her lower lip. Stroked into her mouth. Her wolf had become an even better kisser over the years. Seducing, taking, and making her want so much more. Making her–

Drake’s head lifted. He stared down at her–with that strong, chiseled face that often slipped into her dreams, a face that had a few more fine lines now, but the same square jaw, the same high cheekbones, and the same sensual but slightly cruel lips. His eyes blazed so brightly, and she could see the same raw lust she felt reflected in his stare.

The years hadn’t changed the way he felt. He still needed, just as much as she did. He still–

“Guess that means she is yours…” The blond werewolf behind them muttered. “A vampire…with a werewolf, how twisted is–”

Drake pushed Paige away and grabbed the wolf in one fast, brutal move. “I saw your claw marks on her throat.”

Paige lifted her hand and touched the skin. She felt the light wetness of her own blood. Huh. She hadn’t even noticed the sting. After all she’d experienced in the last ten years, what did few scratches matter?

“You don’t ever touch her.” Drake tossed the guy down the hallway. The smaller werewolf’s head thudded into a wall. “You come at her with your claws again, Michael, and I’ll rip you open.”

Ah, all right, so Drake thought that the scratches mattered. She hadn’t remembered him being quite so blood-thirsty.

He swung back toward her. The lust and fury were still battling in his eyes. This wasn’t the man she’d fallen for all those years ago. The guy staring back at her–he was a primal wolf.

“Make sure no one disturbs me,” Drake ordered and he stalked back toward her. She should speak. Say something. She hadn’t said a word to the guy yet. Maybe she should start with something like…Hi, there, long time, no see. You might wonder why I disappeared without a word. I’ve got a really good story to tell you.

More like a nightmare tale. A nightmare that she’d just brought to his door.

And the door closed behind him with a soft click. Her gaze flew around the room. She’d been right. This was definitely a bedroom. Complete with one huge, rumpled bed. But at least it looked like Drake had been sleeping alone. If there’d been a she-wolf in there with him, Paige might have just let her own claws out.

When he touched her, she jumped. Paige wanted to hide her fear, but being a werewolf, he could probably smell the scent on her. Werewolves had such damn superior senses. Better than anyone or anything else in the world.

His fingers brushed over the curve of her breasts. The guy had to slow down. This couldn’t happen. Not yet anyway. They had to talk first. “Drake, I–”

He lifted the necklace. Stared at the heavy gold etched with the carving of a wolf’s head.

She cleared her throat.

“Why are you wearing this?” Drake asked her, his voice the rumbling mix of darkness and lust that had always been able to make her yearn.

She was yearning already, but she pushed back the need and focused on what the guy was saying. Her necklace. He’d given it to her when she’d turned nineteen. The day he’d told her what he really was.

Werewolf.

That had been the day when her life had started to spiral out of control.

Time to woman up and talk. She swiped her tongue over her lips, tasted him, and managed to say, “Y-you told me…you said a werewolf would never attack me if I wore it.” The necklace had been a sign of pack protection.

His strong, tanned fingers closed around the necklace. Then he yanked and broke the gold chain in one vicious tug that seemed to claw across her heart. “I told you,” he said, voice even darker, “that this necklace meant you belonged to me.”