Page 3 of Ghouls and Girth (The Knottiverse: Halloween Monsters #4)

Umar

Alarm spears through me as my brother’s displeasure batters my back. Half a second later, understanding dawns as the bitch with The Sight and her three friends scamper around the corner of the viewing pool and begin unrolling brand new yoga mats.

The whore seals her fate when she bends down and flashes an obscene amount of cleavage at the entire group.

Mine.

Not only mine. Ours.

I tried to give my brother what he wanted. I gave Khalid a chance to scare her away.

He failed.

We’ll do it my way now. I’ll make her ours. It’ll work this time. Somehow, I’ll control the savage side of me and ensure this female survives my rutting. Both my brother and I will knot and mark her. She’ll be with us for eternity.

It must work. She will free me from the prison of my failed bond. I cannot remain trapped in a hell where my body refuses to match my mind.

Gestures and grunts don’t earn a human disguise much respect in this wretched land. I need her to unlock the bindings muting my speech and twisting my tongue.

Her golden-brown eyes study the gathered people with uncertainty.

Hopefully she fights. I like when my prey bites and scratches.

She senses my scrutiny and lifts her eyes to mine. An inferno roars through me, only to burn impossibly hotter when she holds my stare.

She will be so much fun to break.

No, not break. Shatter. Annihilate. Destroy.

My brother and I will enjoy cocooning her between our bodies and forcing her metamorphosis.

Despite the wariness in her pale gold orbs, she matches the intensity of my stare until the instructor breaks her concentration.

The brunette beside her sinks effortlessly into the instructed pose while the redhead sticks her lackluster assets out too far. When the brunette tries to correct her, the redhead refuses her help and sends a coy glance toward my brother, so the brunette moves to the other friend.

My prey is on the outskirts of the herd. Abandoned. Vulnerable.

With a lewd flush on her cheeks, the blonde ignores the instructor and begins a hamstring stretch. Her breasts pillow against her thighs until her belt digs into her belly and forces her to gentle the stretch. I rise.

Khalid steps into my periphery and shakes his head.

I stalk across the lawn toward him and grab the lapels of his suit coat.

He snarls and knocks my wrists away. After a purposeful glance at the bitch’s breasts, I reach for the hem of my compression shirt.

Before I lift it an inch, he hisses an ancient curse and unbuttons his suit.

I pull the coat off his shoulders and gesture for his long-sleeved button down as well.

His bottomless umber orbs promise retribution as he complies. Pure white teeth flash under flared nostrils as his ghoul scents the air.

I clench as ripe female pheromones fill me with the need to wreck and dominate the soft, curvy whore.

Khalid crosses his arms over his bare chest. I turn.

Anticipation lengthens my stride as I skirt around the reflection pool toward my target.

She stiffens when my shadow falls over her.

I drape the suit coat over her shoulders. She flinches. My gut twists. Wide eyes the color of honey capture me in her gaze.

Delight animates my ghoul’s tainted blood while raw fury sweeps through my soul. I will tear apart whoever terrorized her. She belongs to me. Her fear is mine. All mine.

Mine and Khalid’s. He may as well be a part of me. He is the only other soul on the planet who has suffered the same as I have. The only monster to wade through the unending torture of time with no reprieve.

Long lashes dip as my prey looks down at herself. She fingers the lapels of my brother’s coat before pulling them together. Liquid fire floods my veins when she lifts glazed eyes up to mine.

By the color in her cheeks and her sharp little breaths, she likes Khalid’s scent.

“Thank you,” she says.

I offer her my hand. She tests my control when she hesitates, meets first my human gaze, then my ghoul’s, and slips her hand into mine.

Her startled gasp when I easily lift her to her feet swells my pride. I extend the sleeve closest to me, hook a finger under the suit collar, and pull the fabric away from her, silently demanding she thread her arm into place.

She licks her lips and swallows. Her collarbone brushes against my knuckles. My talon slips into her bust. Soft, warm flesh pillows around the deadly sharpness.

The class shifts on their mats to a new position. My prey startles, ripping her stare away from mine and blinking at our surroundings. I give the sleeve an insistent little shake.

“Wait, can you, um…”

When she ignores the inappropriate reach of my talon and thrusts the suit lapels toward me with her dainty fingers wrapped loosely around the fabric from the inside, foreign emotions flood my shriveled heart.

“Hold these, please?” she asks.

Awe strikes me speechless. For the first time in thousands of years, I don’t mind my lame tongue.

Despite the wariness in her expression, the trust she shows me—a human flesh-eating ghoul and giant, powerful alpha—sends a heady rush of delight through me.

I slip my talon out of her bra and take the lapels from her.

With her eyes averted toward my chest and me holding my brother’s coat around her like a shield, she unbuckles her belt with efficient movements and unthreads the leather from her belt loops.

My incisors ache to sink into the upper swell of her perfect breasts.

Although her natural grace makes her motions fluid, there’s no artifice in her as she drops the belt onto the green grass and slips her arm into the sleeve.

When she threads her other arm into the coat, I tug the front closed, purposefully nudging her breasts with my knuckles, and smirk as her flush deepens.

I savor the unique flavor of this cat and mouse game, relishing every moment, knowing she has no choice but to play along in reluctant acceptance as her friends watch me pretend to court her.

I button three of the front buttons, but despite her well-endowed cleavage, my brother’s suit hangs loosely around her torso. With her curves dwarfed and her hands hidden in the sleeves, her delicate features and long, shimmery hair make her look like a porcelain doll. Small. Breakable. Childish.

Unexpected mirth rises in me, the feeling so foreign I stare in disbelief for a moment before grabbing her arm.

She lifts her chin in challenge, misinterpreting my gaiety for mockery, but I ignore the urge to pounce on her and instead wrap the undershirt around the small of her back.

After a brief pause, she works the hem of the suit coat up, gathering the fabric over her breasts, and aims wary yet disgruntled eyes up at me.

I tie the undershirt around her waist and enjoy her shiver as my talons scrape along her exposed midriff. The coattails brush against her calves. I pull her forearms away from her chest and let the suit coat hang over top.

She may as well be wearing monk’s robes with how the clothing drapes around her.

Hiding her curves does nothing to dampen my arousal.

Harder than a rock, my cock strains against the fabric of my grey sweatpants even with the athletic boxer briefs hugging my hips.

Nothing will hide the obscene bulge of my partially inflated knot.

White fabric tents as my robes struggle to contain my hard on.

She glances down at herself and sighs. The instructor calls out a new pose. She shrugs and tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Thanks, I—”

Shock widens her eyes as her gaze catches on my cock.

That’s right, little whore. I’m big. Too big. It’ll hurt.

And you’ll like it. Eventually.

She blinks. Her cheeks redden. For a moment, vulnerable innocence shines from her eyes, but she blinks again and peels her stare off my dick. The awe and hunger wafting from her as she studies my chest fills me with wicked pride.

She clears her throat and gathers her hair into a ponytail high on her head as she meets my eyes.

“Thank you. Are you really closing after class?” she asks.

I quirk a brow.

The band snaps. She curses.

I reach around her and close my fist over hers. Her pupils shrink in shock. Covered in my brother’s scent and surrounded by my bulk with my hand in her hair, she’s helpless as we invade her senses.

She tries to step back, but I hold firm. Her breath hitches, almost rubbing her breasts against my stomach.

“What are you doing?” she demands.

I grunt, push her hands away, and fashion her hair into two intertwined twists, using tension to secure them in a simple updo. Every cell in my body resists, but I step away from her and cross my arms over my chest as she inspects my work with trembling fingers.

“A warning would be nice next time, but I guess I owe you another thank you,” she says.

I lift my chin in acknowledgment before turning my attention to her friends. In my periphery, her eyes flash with emotion.

Is my little bitch jealous? Her scent coats my tongue. I long to tame her with my mouth.

She gives a barely audible huff before lowering herself to her mat, yanking her boots off her feet, and placing them neatly at the foot of her mat.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says.

Although close, her attempt to mimic the yoga pose doesn’t engage the proper muscles, so I squat and correct her posture with one hand on her shoulder and another on her back.

I will never tire of her wide, expressive eyes. She’ll look better with tears running down her face and erotic pain twisting her features as I bury my cock deep into her body.

Yoga class needs to end so I can haul her away from prying eyes and lure my brother into wrecking her with me. He must have told her we were closing to make her leave, but here she is, wearing his clothes and accepting my touch.

I’ll do whatever it takes to rut, knot, and mark her. She will fix my broken bond and save my brother from despair.

The little whore is doomed.

She’ll never escape.