Page 17 of Midnight Bond (Wolves of Midnight #5)

brIELLE

It was official. I no longer recognized myself.

For one, the three mile trudge through a freaking blizzard had barely fazed me. As a human, I would have been a basket case and complained the entire way.

For another, I wasn’t bothered by the fact that Jagger had collared my throat in a chokehold.

The move had been entirely domineering, not to mention possessive.

There was no denying he’d wanted to kiss me again, and yet something had prevented him from doing so.

As maddening as that was, just knowing that he’d wanted to was enough to soothe some of my earlier hurt—yet another reason why I didn’t recognize myself.

Jagger Montgomery was a walking red flag.

His hot and cold attitude toward me bordered on emotional abuse.

Past human me wouldn’t have touched him with a ten foot pole, let alone wanted him to kiss me again.

We were total opposites and had nothing in common.

He barely even spoke to me. This infatuation I had with him was illogical and not like me at all. And yet . . .

His reaction to me undressing in the car had been anything but disgust. I’d seen the flash of heat in his eyes before he’d squeezed them shut like a shy school boy.

He wasn’t immune to me. In fact, he thought I was beautiful.

Extremely beautiful. Which meant that I’d probably misunderstood his reaction to our kiss at the cabin.

Something was definitely bothering him, though. He’d been desperate to stop himself from kissing me in the car. So desperate that he’d briefly cut off my air.

Past human me would have freaked out and tried to call the cops.

I didn’t tolerate violent, controlling guys.

Jagger was capable of extreme violence, and despite the defensive training he’d given me, there was no way I could stop him if he wanted to hurt me.

I’d seen him snap a man’s neck like it was a toothpick.

And yet, when he touched me, I didn’t feel unsafe—even when the same hand that had killed a man had been wrapped around my throat. In fact, I felt the opposite, which didn’t make any sense.

Something about Jagger drew me in like a moth to a flame, and I was going to get burned—badly—if I kept letting him play with my emotions. The mysterious male might intrigue me, but I needed to protect my heart before he broke it into a million pieces.

Becoming a werewolf had definitely changed many things about me. I loved being outside now, I wanted to settle down and start a family of my own, and I apparently had a new kink for being strangled.

But even though being dominated by an emotionally unavailable male with too many secrets to count heavily turned me on, I still hated when people made life decisions for me. And the minute we’d entered the hotel, Jagger had turned into his bossy tyrant self once more.

“One room, please,” he told the receptionist without even consulting with me first.

“Um, I’d actually like my own,” I said, my tone firm and decisive.

I thought that would be the end of it, but Jagger shocked the hell out of me by saying, “I know you’re still mad at me, honey, but there’s no need for us to stay in separate rooms.”

I nearly swallowed my tongue, flabbergasted that he’d just called me honey. Struggling to recover, I got into character myself and saucily replied, “Well, you refuse to have sex with me, honey, so why would I want to share a room with you?”

Jagger coughed, and there was no mistaking the darkening of his cheeks. He was embarrassed. Really embarrassed. I fought back a vindictive smile.

Stuck in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel, the receptionist looked rather uncomfortable herself.

Clearing her throat delicately, she said, “I’m sorry, but we actually only have one room available at this time.

All flights were cancelled due to the weather, and our rooms filled up fast. Do you want it? ”

“Yes,” Jagger replied without hesitation, and I barely suppressed the urge to stomp on his foot.

The second the receptionist handed us our key cards, I grabbed mine and stormed off. Ignoring my obvious need for space, Jagger caught up with me and quietly growled, “You talk too much.”

“And you talk too little. In fact, I’ve had better conversations with a wall,” I snarked back, sweeping right past the elevator to take the stairs instead. No way was I going to get stuck in an elevator with him. “Seriously, Jagger. You act like it’s torture to be around me.”

“It is. I’ll probably get demoted from second in command after this.”

When he made it sound like this whole thing was my fault, my temperature rose once more, and I yanked open the stairwell door to stomp up the stairs. “Then why did you follow me to the gala? And why the hell did you insist on us staying in one room?”

“Because it’s not safe for you to be alone.”

“Why? Because of what happened to me at Thanksgiving?”

“Exactly.”

“Bull. The full moon is weeks away and that remaining hunter has made no effort to pursue me. You just get off on making my life miserable.”

“I think you’re doing that just fine all on your own.”

At that, I whirled so I could glare down at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Not batting an eye, he said, “You visited your human family before you were ready, and you participated in a mating event you weren’t prepared for. Both ended in disaster even before I showed up. You’re trying to force things that can’t be forced.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I snapped back, “How dare you. You don’t know a thing about me.”

His lips thinned, and I expected that to be the end of our conversation. I whirled around again, but before I could make it two steps, he said, “I know that your favorite color is magenta.”

I stopped again, wholly unprepared to hear him say that.

“I know that you love to accessorize and own more shoes and purses than your closet can hold,” he went on, flipping my world upside down with each word.

“I know that you hate cooked carrots. I know that your dimples appear when you’re both happy and mad.

I know that you’re opinionated, free spirited, and don’t like to be told what to do.

I know that you care and feel deeply. I know that you’re fiercely loyal to your friends and family, and it breaks your heart that your parents and brothers haven’t accepted the new you.

“I know you, Brielle,” he continued. “And if you’re miserable with your new life, then I know you’ll do something about it. All I’m asking is that you do it the right way. The safe way.”

He stopped talking then, but I could still hear his words loud and clear in my head.

When I failed to respond, he brushed past me, pausing at the second floor landing to hold open the door.

Moving on autopilot, I joined him and exited the stairwell, my mind a jumble of chaotic thoughts.

As we entered our room, I was still so preoccupied that I didn’t even notice there was only one bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Jagger said, and I nodded without comment, heading into the bathroom to prepare for bed as best I could.

I’d left my suitcase in the car, and normally, I’d struggle to fall asleep without my nightly regimen.

But when I exited the bathroom minutes later and found Jagger laying on the floor near the door, fully clothed with his eyes closed and an arm propped under his head for a pillow, I suddenly didn’t care about my routine.

Hesitating for a moment, I crossed over to the queen-sized bed and pulled the top comforter off, along with a pillow. Then I padded across the room and placed them beside Jagger. As I turned to retrace my steps, I heard him quietly say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I murmured back, tugging off my boots before slipping into bed fully clothed.

I turned off the light, and the room plunged into darkness.

Seconds later, my night vision adjusted, and I peeked over at the door to see that Jagger now had the pillow under his head with the blanket over him.

Satisfied, I let my eyes drift shut.

Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

* * *

The pressure of fingers on my throat startled me awake, and I jerked open my eyes with a gasp.

“Shhh,” a male voice rumbled in my ear, lightening the pressure on my throat so he could stroke his thumb up the vulnerable length. “You’re safe.”

With his voice deeper and huskier than usual, my muddled brain struggled to piece together who it belonged to. But as his familiar earthy cedarwood musk wafted over me, my panic faded.

“Jagger, what are you—?”

“Shhh,” he rumbled again, his large body a looming shadow beside me on the bed. With his mouth near my ear, I couldn’t see his face. When I turned to look at him, he nipped the shell of my ear with a stern, “No.”

I froze, my eyes widening in shock. What the hell was happening? This was so unlike him. Before I could ask, he tipped my chin up with his thumb and lowered his head toward my neck. Then, with no warning whatsoever, he slowly licked up the column of my throat.

The unexpected sensation drew another gasp from me, and when I tried to turn my head again, he nipped at my throat with a quiet growl.

“Settle, mate,” he said, and my eyes practically bugged out of their sockets.

“Mate?” I squeaked, unable to keep silent any longer. “Seriously, Jagger. What the hell are you—?”

My mouth froze in a startled O as the hand on my neck suddenly delved beneath the covers and into my jeans.

It happened so fast that I didn’t have time to think about how insane this was.

All I could do was react to the feeling of his fingers slipping inside my panties to touch my clit.

My body exploded awake at the contact, and I arched off the mattress with a strangled cry.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.”

He sharply nipped at my neck again to silence me, then licked the sting away when I obediently clamped my mouth shut.

Insane. This was insane. The car crash had given me less whiplash than this male.

But as he started to rub my clit in tight circles, I lost the ability to care.

Pleasure jolted through my body, leaving me shaking and breathless, and I was on the edge of orgasm within seconds.

I waited for my common sense to kick back in, but it didn’t.

I had no desire to stop this from happening.

In fact, I wanted it to happen. I desperately wanted it to.

I’d never wanted anything more in my entire life.

Shocked by how badly I wanted this, all I could do was grip the sheets for dear life and keep my moans of pleasure at bay. When my legs began to stiffen, the tension in my body about to snap, his fingers bore down on my clit, swirling faster and faster.

The intensity was too much for me, and my entire body erupted in pleasure. I cried out again, my head falling back as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over me. Jagger licked my neck again, his fingers prolonging the orgasm with languid circles against my spasming pussy.

“Such a good girl,” he rumbled against my neck. “My pretty, pretty girl.”

I basked in his praise, my body humming blissfully as I slowly came down. When I relaxed into the mattress, my breathing growing steady, he licked my neck again and removed his hand from my pants. The second he did, he abruptly exploded upright on the bed with a bellowing roar.

Startled, I jerked open my eyes to find him tightly gripping his head.

When he bellowed again and violently shook his head, worry filled me, and I called out his name.

He didn’t react, lost to whatever had taken hold of him.

I sat up and reached for him, but the second I touched his arm, he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back to the mattress.

Still recovering from the forceful move, I failed to comprehend his words as he shouted, “What did he do?”

“H-he?” I sputtered out.

“What did he do, Brielle?” Jagger repeated, giving my shoulders a shake.

“I don’t . . . Y-you touched me.”

Fear lit up his blue-gray eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“What? No. You . . . you pleasured me.”

At that, he yanked his hands off me as if he’d been burned. “That wasn’t me,” he said, horror overtaking his expression. “That wasn’t me.”

I gaped at him, certain that I’d just witnessed a man lose his mind. “I don’t understand. We’re the only two people here. Of course it was you.”

“No,” he said and shook his head, the horror on his face slowly morphing into anger. Into rage. “There’s one other person here. One other being.”

When I just stared at him, my brain refusing to connect the dots, he spat out a word. A name. One that turned my insides to ice.

“Onyx.”