Mark of the Wolf (29 page)

He held her like that as her struggles became
weaker and weaker, and the bloodlust faded from her eyes. They had
turned an electrified yellow, but slowly dulled back down to an
average hazel-brown. He studied her, staring at her face as she
calmed, until finally she could stare back at him with coherent
thought. She couldn't see him fully, since only the visor of his
helmet was raised, but she could clearly see his pale, intense
eyes. There was a keenness in his expression that spoke of acute
intelligence.

“
There, now,” he said quietly, once
she had fully recovered from her outburst. “Found you.”

She spat at him, snarling, but he laughed and
shook her slightly. “Enough of that, little wolf. I will let you go
soon enough.... I just wanted to get a good look at the one who
will serve as my mate.”

“
Never!” she growled, though it was
hard to push the words past the hand at her throat.

“
It's too late for that, my dear,” he
murmured again, and a cold grin passed over his face. “Your parents
begged me to take you, and I gave my word. Werewolf law cannot be
broken in these things... but I suppose you are too young to
understand that yet.” He leaned his face close, so close that she
could catch a whiff of his cologne, bringing his presence sharply
into focus. “You're mine. You
do
realize you don't have a choice – right?”

“
I fucking hate you!” she wheezed,
kicking her legs out at him though she was so weak she could barely
move. “I'll kill you!”

He laughed again; it grated across her skin,
as painful as the asphalt had been. “I would expect nothing less
from my future mate,” he grinned. Then abruptly his expression
changed, and the coldness she saw sent fear skittering through her.
“And you will be my mate. You cannot escape me, no matter how far
you run.”

Jaime would have said something, but at that
moment he raised his helmet and pressed his mouth against hers—the
kiss was demanding, harsh, taking her mouth and not asking
questions. His lips controlled her, parting her easily as his
tongue entered. Jaime wanted to bite it off – but somehow she
couldn't. She was frozen to the spot, shocked, utterly confused at
the strange and exciting emotions that swept over her. The heat
settled in her belly like a wild thing.

The kiss turned hard towards the end and he
pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking before biting down,
sudden and sharp, blood blooming between them. She gasped,
surprised, her head whirling.

Then he released her. It took her a moment to
realize that her feet were on the ground. She looked up at him,
stunned; when he smiled, she could still see the smear of her blood
on his lips. She stared at him stupidly, dazed, taking note of his
height, the width of his strong shoulders. He was not a giant, but
definitely of formidable posture, and his brown hair was silken and
wild.

“
Run, little girl,” he murmured. “I
will come for you when you are of age... and remember,” his hand
reached out and gripped her hip suddenly, sliding into her waist
where her wound was. He pressed his hand cruelly against her. “This
belongs to me.”

Jaime stared at him for a moment longer,
shaking, rooted to the ground – then she turned and fled. She
couldn't do anything else; she knew she couldn't fight him, not
with his whole pack there. If he was giving her leave to run, then
by God she was going to do it. She didn't look back; she didn't
even think. Her feet hammered over the ground, carrying her in the
first direction she turned, and she didn't care where she was
going. She touched her lip – it was still tingling. He had kissed
her. The asshole that had destroyed her pack had taken her mouth,
just as he had taken everything else. She was alone now, just as he
had said. Alone, and she would die before she ever joined him. He
had called her his mate. The idea of it made her want to vomit.

Yet somehow her body was still humming.

I'll kill him,
she vowed.
One of these days, I'll fucking kill
him.

She ran down the dark, midnight streets, as
fast as she could go until she collapsed in a cold sweat. She
didn't know where she was, but she didn't care. In the morning she
would worry about her life. In the morning she would figure out the
future.

For now, she wanted to die... but she would
live to kill him first.

About the Author

T. L. Shreffler is a werewolf currently
living in Southern California and a proud member of the Los Angeles
County wolf pack. When she's not running through the hills or
howling at the moon, she enjoys reading, writing (YA fantasy and
romance), videogames and karaoke. She lives in a cozy den with her
pet cat and other loved ones.

Feel free to connect with her online. She
always looks forward to hearing from readers, fans, and fellow
wolves!

Website:
www.runawaypen.com

Poetry:
www.poetsforpeanuts.com

Facebook:
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