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I don’t know that I’ll ever understand my place with him. I spent my life half-imagining, half-remembering that I was a wolf, joined in my dreams by packs of beasts who comforted me when I felt scared or alone.

I quickly learned not to talk all about it. When I did, people mocked me or sometimes punished me. This man is trying to get me to talk, but I don’t know him nearly well enough to trust him with the details of my life, in so far as I remember them.

I don’t think he really cares about the answers anyway. I think he’s full of desire for me. I think he wants to fuck me. The girls at the orphanage knew all about that, anticipated sex with great glee. We told each other stories about what we thought it was like. None of us ever had it, of course. We were locked away from boys, not allowed out at all unsupervised.

Of course, I had a reputation for sneaking out and about. There were questions about what I did, and rumors, too. My attempts at escape were scandalous for many reasons, but mostly because I was impossible to control.

“You’re a wolf,” I say. “Like me.”

“Yes,” he smiles. “We’re all like you.”

This man is handsome, charming, and obviously rich and powerful. When he looks at me with those silver-gray eyes, when he gives me all his attention and all his desire, I feel myself melt between my thighs. But it’s the memory of last night that really turns me on.

Last night was the first time I caught the scent of my kind on the wind.

I took my wolf form last night because that’s the easiest way to run, and most of the time nobody suspects the animal running at a distance is the girl they’re looking for—but he knew it instantly.

He came after me, a full-blooded animal hunting me with inexorable intensity. I was never going to escape, no matter how far I fled. I felt that in the wind.

I never knew how much I wanted to be chased down by a male and pounced upon. I never understood how much I needed to be shown thoroughly what an alpha can do. Lying in the mud last night with him atop me, naked and furious and so afraid for some reason, as if he thought he’d already lost me—that was the most intimate moment of my life, and it is that moment that makes me want him now.

“I wish I didn’t have to be a person at all. I wish I could stay in my wolf form. It’s simpler there.”

“It is,” he agrees. “So much simpler. There is no shame. There is no conditioning. There is only the matter of what you want. What do you want now, Beatrix?”

I look into his silvered eyes, so much lighter than anybody’s eyes I’ve ever seen before, and for a moment, I get a mental image of him as his wolf self, powerful, steady, offering me the protection of his ferocity.

I melt.

“I think I want you,” I say, nervous. Words are the worst. Having to hear them is bad enough, but having to say them is a terrible ordeal.

Fortunately he does not make me keep talking. When I tell him I want him, his fingers drop from my neck to my breast. He reaches out with his other arm and kisses me deeply, drawing me closer to him with the fingers of his other hand in my hair. It is a tender, passionate embrace, but when he tightens his grip I think about how roughly he pinned me last night, and that is what makes me soak myself with desire.

Suddenly, I am so fucking horny I can hardly handle myself.

Taking my wolf form always invigorates me. It makes me feel as though I could rule the world. It reminds me that places like the orphanage are little prisons for people who consent to be imprisoned in exchange for the illusion of safety.

I told the girls the truth, but they didn’t want to believe me. I wonder if they believe me now, or if they are getting comfortable in their new prisons. The thought takes me out of the moment, makes me wonder if I, too, am just getting comfortable in a new prison.

“You are a tense little thing,” Armand purrs, looking down at me with those piercing eyes. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

I snort. I wouldn’t tell him what I was thinking if I only had two brain cells remaining.

His eyes narrow as he understands the quality and meaning of my mirth.

“I see. Won’t tell me about your past, won’t tell me about your present, won’t tell me anything of any use whatsoever.”

The air is still thick with arousal, but that doesn’t stop me from arguing. If anything, all this passion, all this primal energy makes me want to fight more.

“I don’t owe you anything,” I tell him. “I don’t care how much you spent on me. You can buy a lot of things with ten million dollars, and you should have bought them, because you can’t buy me.”

I steel myself for what I know is coming. He’s going to snap on me. He’s going to give into anger, yell at me, curse at me, possibly beat me. He might kill me.

He takes a deep breath.

“I can be patient,” he says. “You want to be difficult, that’s fine. We are new to one another, and I know you have had a hard life. In time you will see that I can be trusted.”

“I don’t want to trust you. I want you to let me go.”

It is a ridiculous thing to say. I don’t want him to let me go. I want him to hold me down and fuck me. I want him to surge inside me, the cock I saw in the bath last night thick and hard and claiming me in ways I have never been claimed before. But it’s easier to tell him to fuck off than it is to ask him to fuck me.

“And where would you go? What would you do?” He makes the mistake of taking me seriously. I whine internally, wishing he could see me for what I am, wishing I didn’t have to say everything out loud.

“None of your business.”

There’s a brief moment in which silence fills the air between us. I know I am pushing him. I want to. I want to find his breaking point. I want to prove to myself, and him, that he is just like the other cruel, stupid, impatient men I have always known.

“You are starting to become rude, little one, and my desire to discipline you is coming back ever more strongly,” he says, his eyes narrowed. “Do you wish to sit down when you meet the pack this evening? Or would you prefer to stand by my side, unable to tolerate so much as a skirt pressing against your skin?”

* * *

Armand

Her eyes light up at the threat of punishment.

She likes it—or she at least finds it familiar.

I find myself smiling. Finally, a way in. Her defiance isn’t the obstacle. It’s the answer.

“Come here, whelp,” I say, taking her by the wrist and turning her over my thighs.

She settles over my lap far more agreeably than she has done almost anything else. This is the only thing she does not fight, the only kind of interaction she seems comfortable with.

I smooth my hand over her cheeks, rubbing gently but firmly. I do not think sweet words and kindness will go far with her. I think her trust, her desire, her happiness is all locked up in rough treatment and animal passion.

“I just got finished telling you that you are mine,” I say. “I informed you that you would be required to obey me. Now I’m going to prove it.”

The bedside drawer contains all manner of treats and toys, but I will not be playing with my mate.

I pick up a wooden hairbrush from my collection, broad-backed and good for one thing more than any other.

The sound she makes as I bring it down on her ass is satisfying as all hell. There is an animal yelp and a rather alluring squirming motion that makes her grind against my thigh.

“You are a brat,” I tell her. “And I know that underneath that sass you are just trying to protect yourself, but you don’t need to hide anything from me. I’m not going to let you disrespect me, and I’m not going to let you keep missing out on the life you deserve because you think you have to fight me.”

I bring the brush down again and again on her bare ass. It leaves pleasing red ovals on her cheeks, but what is even more pleasing is the wet spot she is leaving against my thigh.

Whatever her secrets, she cannot hide her desire for me. It’s the one true thing I know for sure—that she wants me as much as I want her.

“You’re a spoiled rich boy who thinks he can buy everything!” she shoots back. Calling me a boy earns her a good flurry of smacks right to the seat of her ass. Her cheeks flush bright red for me, her thighs kicking furiously.

“I am no boy, little girl,” I say, teasing her a little even in the midst of punishment. Shouldn’t do that really, against protocol, but I am not entirely above gamesmanship. If she wants to tussle, tussle we shall.

“Ow! Fuck!” She curses at me as the brush dances over her cheeks. “I hate you!”

That declaration of hate is more one of affection than I have ever heard before. I wonder if everything will be backward with my mate, if seduction will be repulsive to her, if roughness will be interpreted as kindness.

I test the theory, leaning down, fastening my teeth on her left cheek, the reddened flesh delicate and delicious against my tongue as I lick the skin caught there.

I hear her gasp, feel her stiffen, and I smell a sudden flush of arousal as she gets that much more turned on by the bite.

My instincts were correct. She does not merely like it rough. She needs it rough. She wants to be handled like the wild animal she is, tamed with pets, but made to understand there is no room whatsoever for her own claws and fangs to emerge. Fairness does not matter. Dominance does.

I release her cheek, leaving an impression of my teeth lightly pressed into her flesh.

She lets out a little whimper, but not of pain or fear. It is a sound of desire.

I can hold back no longer. I need to be inside her more than I have needed anything in life.

I slide her off my lap and onto the bed, pulling off all the clothing between us as if it were nothing more than tissue paper. Some of it gives way, some of it rips, none of it matters.

She is soft and naked, her long legs becoming curvy around her hips and thighs, her waist powerfully neat and her breasts full. Her long, dark hair wants to curl rebelliously and tangles in my fingers as I control her head, pressing her down beneath me.

Crawling up behind her, I spread her legs. A more romantic way would be to make love to her missionary, look into her eyes, whisper loving words, vow my troth. But that is the way humans make love, and at our core, she and I are nothing but animals.

So I bite the back of her neck and I use my thighs to spread hers, I find that dripping core of her that has needed my cock from the moment we met, and I spear inside her, thrusting deep in one powerful stroke.

She cries out as she envelops me, her inner walls gripping me tight and hot and perfectly mine. This is what we both needed. For a moment, I stay still inside her, relishing this deep and primal connection. I can feel every move she makes, every breath she takes. I can feel the inner muscles of her body contracting around me as her pussy grips me and tries to milk me.

My teeth remain on her neck, biting firmly, a little hard. I’m sure it hurts, but I also feel the fresh flood of desire coating my cock as she feels that little note of pain and responds.

I am fighting myself to stay in control. I want this to be slow. I want this to be… fuck. Drawing out of her feels like a little death, and sliding back in, this time with an intentional slowness that lets her feel every bit of her pussy being claimed, is enough to make me snarl with frustration at my self-imposed control.

I make myself go even slower, and I listen to the moan as her lower lips grip my cock so fucking prettily, the glistening sheath of my dick slowly sliding from her hot interior. She is mine. Finally. After a lifetime of waiting, I know where I belong, and I know she belongs to me.

The sense of satisfaction, ownership, bonding, belonging is so complete I could cry. There are tears in my eyes as I surge forward again, and this time I release the bite and instead kiss her neck and her cheek and when she turns her head to me, her lips and her mouth and, fuck, I am surging inside her, hips pumping deep inside this wicked little whelp.

“Does this feel good? Do you understand now?”

My questions are barely coherent, and her response is even less so. She moans and she says something that might be words and none of it matters because she is sliding over onto her side and my hand is cupping her taut, ample breast, thumb brushing over the nipple. My hand runs down her belly, then my fingers find the thick brush of hair above her pussy, running through it to tap against her clit.

She bucks against me, taking my cock so fucking nicely. God. She is perfect. Every moment we have shared before this one, every bit of tension, every argumentative word, every rebellion, every bit of resistance, is gone.

I roll over, pin her on top of me by wrapping my arms round her waist and locking her legs in place with mine so her thighs are spread, her pussy is open, and she cannot move. All she can do is lie on my chest and take her fucking.

She whimpers and gasps in my ear, little animal sounds that grow in intensity as she grinds her clit against my pubic bone and takes each and every thrust of my cock deep inside.

“I’m going to come inside you. You’re going to be full of my cum, and you’re going to have my baby. That’s what you’re for, Beatrix. You’re for me, for my cock, you’re the mate nature made for me, you’re my precious little fuck toy and you’re the love of my life.”

She bites me. Hard. Really fucking hard, actually, right on the shoulder, and deep enough to draw blood.

“What the fuck was that?” I grip her by the chin in the effort to stop those teeth of hers making contact with me.

She grins down at me, her pussy gripping my cock with desire as I narrow my eyes at her.

“Do you think it’s nice to bite while your ma?tre is fucking your naughty little pussy, is that it?”

“I don’t care what’s nice,” she says. “You’re inside me. That hurt, a little. That hurt when you pushed all the way in me. You think my pussy doesn’t hurt right now?”

“You can always tell me if something hurts.”

“I did tell you. I bit you.”

“Little animal,” I laugh. “There’s no need to bite.”

“I don’t bite because I need to. I bite because I like to.”

My hand slides to her throat, not gripping tightly, but just keeping her under control. At the same time, I thrust deep inside her pussy hard enough to punish her for that naughty bite.

Now we’re being rough, I give her rougher, harsher thrusts, letting her know her tender pussy can be punished if I decide to punish it.

“Be careful what you bite and where, Trixie,” I say, shortening her name. “You are not the only one with teeth.”

She blushes at that warning, seeming to enjoy it. Her hips perform a little grinding motion and her inner walls grip my cock with increasing eagerness. She’s trouble, and she likes it.

“Bad girl, hmm?” My cock slides in and out of her hole as I pump her pussy deep and hard. Not really the romantic treatment I imagined for my mate, but she not only likes it rough, she needs it dominant. Sometimes you give people what they need, not what you think they should need. That’s a lesson I’ve learned over and over as alpha, and it has never felt as applicable as it does now.

“I’m sorry it hurts, pup,” I murmur. “I’m sorry your tight pussy is stretching for me, and you don’t know how to take a proper fucking yet, but you will, and the pain, doesn’t it feel good as well?”

I slide my cock all the way inside and hold myself there, waiting for her response.

It comes physically before it comes verbally. I feel her squeeze my cock with her inner muscles, her hips gyrating around my thick rod as she enjoys the sensation of being made love to for the first time.

“Do you want me to stop?”

I get a little whimper and a shake of her head. No. She doesn’t want this to stop. She wants to come on my cock. She wants to feel my knot swell inside her and trap my seed against her womb until it takes.

“Then I am going to keep going, Trixie. I am going to mate your sweet pussy, and you are going to take every drop of my cum. Do you know what a knot is?”

I ask the question while sliding back and forth inside her slowly. I am getting very close to coming, and once I come, there will be no escaping me or my cock for several minutes.

“No,” she moans.

“When I come inside you, my cock is going to swell up. It’s designed by nature to keep my seed inside. You’re not just being fucked. You’re being bred.”

I feel a rush of warmth around my cock as those words hit her brain and trigger a cascade of arousal. Oh, fuck yes, she wants this. She wants me to fill her up, to make her take my cum, to ensure that her fertile womb is given my seed.

I roll over again, but this time I am on my knees and she is under me. I pull her up against me, her legs over my shoulders as I ravage her depths with harder, rougher strokes. I do my best to maintain control, but animal instinct demands my passion and my intensity as I hold her hips and pull her to me, sinking deep as I finally give into the urge to come, my fingers splaying over her belly, my thumb rubbing her clit at the same time as my cock starts to expand inside her.

“Oh, my god! Armand! Oh! Fuck!” Her reaction is instant. I am glad I told her because I am sure she would be panicking if she didn’t know what was happening. “It’s too big!”

“It’s not too big. You can take it. I promise,” I assure her, paying careful attention to her clit, rubbing the pad of my thumb in slow circles that speed up as she writhes and bucks beneath me, her pussy filled with my cock and my cum.

I have never bred before, never intentionally kept my seed inside. It feels beautiful, sacred, and hot as hell to have her writhing, trapped on my cock, the knot making it impossible for us to separate.

“Fuck, Armand, oh, my. I’m…” She becomes incoherent as she submits to orgasm, her ravaged pussy gripping my knot and my cock with eagerness as her walls contract rhythmically. I can feel every movement she makes, and as delicious as it is, it also threatens to put me over the edge of what I can handle in terms of sensations.

My hands clamp her hips in place. “Stay still.” I grit the words out, as I feel my knot pulsing in her, ensuring the last drops of my seed are safely in her stretched little cunt.

Beatrix whimpers, but she has no choice other than to obey. I hold her there, beautiful and blushing, her naked body ripe for me and only me, her lips wrapped around the base of my cock, her inner walls stretched achingly wide.

I renew the attention to her clit, not touching directly, but massaging around it, keeping her distracted with pleasure as nature takes its course inside her.

“You were a good girl,” I reassure her. “You are taking your breeding so well.”

She moans and whimpers until finally, my knot starts to subside and my cock slides from her swollen pussy. Her lips are puffy and wide, and I can see my cum dripping from her.

“Beautiful,” I praise, leaning down and gathering her in my arms. “Are you okay? Did that hurt too much?”

“It hurt a little,” she says against my chest. “I didn’t know about the knot. I thought I was going to be split open.”

I chuckle and rub her bottom in an effort to comfort her. I’d soothe her pussy by petting it, but I am sure she is tender there.

“You’re so big,” she says. “And so strong. When you were inside me it was as if I was completely at your mercy. I was getting bred and…”

“There was no choice?”

“Yeah,” she says softly.

“There is always a choice,” I tell her, tipping her chin up so she looks at me. “But sometimes, the choice is going to be having your sore, deserving, naughty pussy fucked long and hard by your alpha. Understand?”

She blushes, soft for the first time. I cherish her like this, appreciating that she is showing me a side of herself I am sure nobody has ever seen.