Page 12 of Forced Alpha Bride (Wolfshade Brides-for-Hire #3)

As Damon storms out of the room, I shiver uncontrollably, my heart pounding and breath rasping in and out of my chest. Tears pour down my face, and I almost choke on them as I struggle to calm myself down.

Fuck it! Why should I calm down? This is unacceptable, and I’ll freak out if I want to!

I try to sit up, and a sharp pain stabs through my arm as the plastic cord tightens on my wrist. I yank on it even harder, and the wrought-iron bedpost doesn’t even wobble. I shuffle closer to the top of the bed and twist so I can see the knots, hoping to get them undone.

And then what? Run? But run where?

The knots are extremely tight, and the only things I accomplish by fighting with them are bruising my fingers and breaking my nails. The adrenaline suddenly flows out of me, leaving me exhausted, weak, and extremely depressed.

I can’t believe this is happening to me!

If I could wind back the clock, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I never imagined that filling out an application form on a whim would land me up to my neck in such seriously trouble, and I look back on my previous hopeful enthusiasm with incredible pity.

Was I really that lonely? No, I just didn’t fully understand the risks.

Wait until I get my hands on Iris! This must be why she disappears the second the match is made!

I manage to sit up, even though my arm is tightly bound to the bedpost. My tears are settling, and I can finally breathe again, but there is a heat throbbing through me that isn’t cooling down.

That kiss…

Even though I’d already decided that running away wasn’t an option after he started reeling off his demands, all I wanted to do was get away from him.

When we ended up nose to nose, I didn’t think. I just leaned towards him, and… it happened.

Tears begin to trickle down my cheeks again, and they are far more real than any others I’ve shed today. This time, the sorrow is coming from a much deeper place inside me. Maybe even my soul.

I know about your problem, Winnie.

I hear Iris’s voice in my mind, and I want to curse her name, but I can’t. There’s something ugly hidden underneath all my anger, and I know I have to face it.

I want this man more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.

My cheeks burn with shame while the heat of an entirely different kind blooms underneath it. I can still feel the throbbing desire between my legs, the ache deep inside me, my hard nipples rubbing against the soft fabric of the dress.

Closing my eyes, I remember the heat of his mouth, the soft, wet press of his lips against mine. The way his hard hands folded around my waist, crushing me against his chest. A sharp, intense ache runs through me, and I let out a small, soft cry.

So why did you run, then?

Because I don’t want to want him!

“Winnie?”

Damon’s voice shocks me so hard, I jump, hurting my arm again as I hit the length of the cord. He’s standing in the shadows of the hallway, and I can’t see his expression, just a pale impression of his face.

“What?” I snap.

“I’m sorry, okay. I really am. But I have to do this.”

“What?” I repeat louder, with panic at the edge of my voice.

“I can’t risk you running away,” he says apologetically, and I hear the faint clink of metal.

What the fuck?

Damon snaps the light on, and I’m stunned for a moment. When my eyes clear, I look up into his big, soulful eyes. He looks so sad, I almost feel sorry for him.

“Just hold still, okay? I don’t want to have to hold you down.”

Maybe that’s what I want, though…

“What are you talking about?” I say instead.

He takes a step closer, and that’s when I notice the cuffs in his hands. They aren’t handcuffs, more like bracelets with a very long chain looped through them.

“Damon, what are you doing?” I demand, struggling against my tether.

“These will be a lot more comfortable for you,” he says soothingly. “I can adjust them to fit your wrists, and the long chain means you’ll have more movement. It’ll be easier for me to tether you and unhook as well.”

I stare at him in disbelief, feeling like reality just developed a serious rip and I’ve fallen straight through it.

Is he seriously explaining the merits of manacles to me? Well, maybe it is better than an electrical cord. It’s not like I have experience with this.

As that thought flashes through my mind, the next one is far more disturbing.

Does he?

“Wait, Damon, wait,” I implore as he approaches. “Seriously, let’s talk about this.”

“We have,” he says gently, as if he’s talking to a frightened horse. “These will be much nicer for you, I promise.”

“Damon.” I lean on the cord to pull away from him. “Don’t.”

“Stop it,” he answers, grabbing my hand and yanking me towards him. “If you didn’t always try to run, I wouldn’t have to do this at all. That was a nasty trick, by the way—kissing me to distract me. How far did you think you were actually going to get?”

“Damon,” I moan as he clips the first bracelet on. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll be good.”

“Damn, how I wish that was true,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ve been looking for a good woman all my life. Haven’t found one yet, though.”

He reaches for the cord, working the knot so he can slip the metal cuff on my other wrist. As the manacle snaps shut, panic floods through me, and I struggle as hard as I can.

“You can’t do this, Damon! Where the fuck did you even get these things? Do you do this a lot? Is this a regular Friday night for you?”

“What?” To my surprise, he laughs. “No way. I actually went into the basement looking for some sturdy rope and found these. Might be better to ask what the Brent family does in their leisure time.”

I don’t have an answer for that, so I just sit miserably and look at my hands. The smooth metal bracelets actually are more comfortable than the cord and the ropes I was tied with earlier. The chain is a little heavy, but I do have more movement.

“Are you comfortable?” Damon asks.

“No,” I grit out.

“I mean, are you actually in pain? I can adjust the cuffs if you like.”

“How about you just take them off?”

“I would if I thought I could trust you. But now that I know you’ll stoop to turning me on to distract me, I can’t believe anything you say or do.”

My chest aches a little, and I feel an edge of guilt I know I don’t deserve.

It was real, Damon. I felt something. The heat in that kiss wasn’t fake. I wanted to do it.

I keep my mouth stubbornly shut, refusing to speak the words.

He doesn’t deserve to know that. I can’t trust him, no matter what, and he won’t trust me, even if I explain. He’ll still just think I’m playing him.

“So, is there anything I can do for you?” he asks.

“Didn’t we just cover this?”

“I mean, I want to go to sleep, so I have to attach your chain to the bed. If you’re hungry, thirsty, or need the bathroom, tell me now.”

Tears trickle down my face again as the reality sinks in that I’m really going to be wearing these things all night.

“I’m okay.”

“Good. Can I help you with your shoes?”

I nod, staring at my lap while he kneels on the floor and gently takes off my boots. The touch of his hand on the back of my ankle makes me shiver, and I bite my lip as the flicker of arousal runs through me like a hot wire from my clit to my nipples.

And a great, raging furnace between my legs.

“Are you cold?” he asks, and I shake my head again. Damon stands up and attaches the chain to the side post, lifting the blankets for me to get under. I twist and turn a bit, but eventually I find a comfortable position, and the chain doesn’t bother me that much.

Damon turns out the light and gets into bed next to me. When he sits up and turns in my direction, my body comes alive like a wick against a blowtorch.

Am I scared, or extremely turned on? Do I know the difference?

A few tense moments pass, and finally, Damon just sighs.

“Goodnight, Winnie.”

I feel the bed bounce as he turns over, and his breath settles almost immediately. I tug on the chain a little, but I know it’s utterly hopeless.

I have enough length in the chain to toss and turn a bit, and I’m so anxious, I feel like I’ll never get to sleep.

Heat runs under my skin, and my fear of Damon is twisting into something far more intense.

The horrible realization dawns on me that even if I could get away, I would want to see him again.

I can’t imagine never feeling this way again. As fucked up as this is, I’ve never felt more alive.

It’s the last clear thought I have before exhaustion finally creeps up on me, and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

The smell of coffee teases me awake, and I sit up to find myself alone in bed. I hear Damon’s footsteps in the hall and look towards the doorway eagerly, reminding myself at the last second that I’m supposed to be mad at him.

Am I really happy to see him?

When his face appears in the doorway, he looks even more handsome than I remember. His thick, night-dark hair is combed back from his face, and in the full light of the morning, his eyes look deep brown instead of black.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer, trying not to smile. He sets the tray down on the bedside table, and my mouth waters when I see the fresh, buttery croissants. I reach out and grab one, tearing pieces off it and shoving them into my mouth without looking at him.

Damon takes a step back and sits down on the floor across from me, dropping to the ground in one graceful movement. He keeps his distance, sitting quietly with his arms on his knees as he watches me eat.

Kind of like a cat watching a bird in a cage.

A shiver runs through me, that intoxicating mix of fear and desire that I’m beginning to get used to.

No. I’m not just getting used to it. I’m starting to crave it.

“Good?” Damon asks, and I look over at him, shrugging because my mouth is full. He chuckles and waits for me to finish.

“Yes,” I answer, picking up the cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

“We need to get going soon,” he says. “The council meeting is this morning, and it’s important. I’m assuming you’ll want to shower and change after breakfast?”

“Yes,” I answer with relief. “If you could just take these off—”

“No.”

“What?”

“I told you, I can’t risk you running away. I’m not taking off your cuffs.”

“But you can stand at the bathroom door!” I protest. “What, you think I’m going to jump out of a second-story window?”

He shrugs. “You might.”

“This is ridiculous!”

“I’m not disputing that. The whole situation is fucking bananas. I’m still not taking off the cuffs, though.”

“So, what do you suggest? Both of us getting in the shower like this?”

A faint glimmer of gold shimmers across his eyes, and I hear a low growl.

His wolf.

“If you insist,” he says very softly.

I watch his lips as he speaks, unable to look away from the delicate curve of his dark red lips. He gives a small smile, and I’m not sure if it’s a friendly, comforting smile or something more sinister.

Doesn’t matter. I’m loving it either way.

“Okay,” I answer, my voice high. “Forget the shower. Just help me get changed.”

“As you wish,” he says, standing up just as smoothly as he sat down. There is a casual athleticism about him, an ease of movement that suggests unbelievable physical prowess.

Of course, I did personally watch him haul my plump ass straight up a mountain, so him being strong isn’t a surprise. But he also moves like a gymnast or a dancer.

“Winnie?” Damon asks.

I realize he’s standing right in front of me, holding a couple of dresses. “Oh. Sorry, I faded out a bit.”

“You do that,” he says with a grin. “It’s kind of cute.”

A smile breaks across my face, and I bow my head to hide it.

Even Krista gets frustrated by my little lapses in concentration. I’ve never met anyone who actually liked it.

“Which dress, Winnie?”

“Oh. The black one.”

Damon tosses the others on the bed and shakes out the black gown for me, laying it neatly on the bed as I stand up. I hold out my hands to him. He gives me a look, and I shrug.

“The only way to get this dress off and the other one on is to undo my hands.”

He examines me briefly, sighing. “Okay, you’re right. But don’t try anything.”

I blink up at him innocently, and I see just the hint of a grin at the edge of his lips.

“Okay,” Damon says, pulling the chain out of the loops on the manacles. “Get changed.”

“Do you have to be so close?” I complain.

“Yes. You’ve proven to be very slippery. And don’t forget, I dressed you up in the mountains. I’ve seen it all.”

My cheeks burn as emotions collide inside me. I’m embarrassed and scared, but there’s also something thrilling about it. Maybe even liberating.

Harnessing the feeling of empowerment, I pull the green gown slowly up my thighs, watching as Damon’s eyes fall to follow the rising hem. I slide the gown slowly across my hips, hearing him gasp softly as it reaches my waist.

No underwear.

My cheeks are burning even hotter now, but I just gather the dress a bit tighter and raise it higher, covering my face as my breasts pop free.

No bra, either.

Damon makes a small, strangled sound like someone punched him in the guts. I smile behind the fall of green fabric, tugging it up over my head and tossing it so it lands behind me.

Damon’s eyes are fixed on my body as if he’s forgotten I have a face. The sense of strength and empowerment only grows stronger as I take a slow step forward, turn around, and bend over to pick up the black dress.

This time, I actually hear Damon snap his mouth shut and stagger backwards. I take my time standing back up again, making sure he’s got a great view of my ass and sleek thighs.

Seen it all, have you? You’re seeing something now, I bet.

Even though I keep my unaffected, icy calm, my body is throbbing with arousal, the aching deep between my legs so intense, I feel like Damon must be able to feel it. When I turn around, his eyes slide over my breasts and back down to my pussy again, and I actually giggle.

I’m not even embarrassed. I don’t even know myself right now.

I toss the black dress over my head, watching the disappointment on Damon’s face as the soft, black fabric blocks his view. I put my wrists out submissively and blink innocently as he brings his eyes back up to meet mine.

“Show’s over,” I say sweetly. “Are you going to chain me up again now?”

Damon gulps, obviously not trusting himself to speak. When he reaches out to loop the chain through the manacles, his hands are very gentle. His touch is feather-light, almost reverent.

I might be going crazy, but I’d call that progress.

Whether Damon knows it or not, he’s just proven to me who really has the most power in this situation.

And guess what, tough guy? It isn’t you.