Page 111 of Wrapped in Their Arms

But whenBrightstarted to join her,Burnshook his head again, his expression grim.

“Better not—remember how enraged that fucker got earlier when he caught the three of us in the same room together?We’dbetter stay in our own rooms tonight.”

A spike of protest, sharp and clear, pierced through her exhaustion.

No!Don’tleave me alone.Idon’t want to be by myself.Itfeels wrong.Itfeels scary!

She liked being between them.Itfelt natural and right—the only thing that made sense in this nightmare.Butthe drugging, heavy effect of the aphrodisiac was dragging her down, a leaden weight on her limbs and her eyelids.

Noelle tried to form the words, to beg them to stay, but her body betrayed her.

Her eyes slipped shut of their own accord, and she fell, not into dreams, but into a deep, black, dreamless sleep, utterly alone in the center of the vast, cold bed.

62

BURN

Burn woke suddenly, feeling like he’d been thrown back into his body from a great height.

One moment he was trapped in a dream—a horrible dream where his hands were hurting someone soft and precious, someone he loved more than his own life—and the next, he was jerking awake, sweating, heart pounding, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

Fuck.

He dragged both hands down his face, his palms rasping over his beard.Hischest was tight, his throat felt desert-dry and his head throbbed like someone had driven a spike behind his eyes.

But none of that compared to the shame coiling in his gut like a living thing.

In the dream, he’d hurt her…hurt someone who looked up at him with big, trusting eyes.Someonewhose scent he craved, whose voice soothed every part of him.

He hadn’t seen her face or heard her voice but he knew who it was he’d been hurting—taking so roughly.Evenhalf-conscious, half-drowning in the remnants of the nightmare, heknew.

It wasNoelle.

Gods,he thought, swallowing hard as he sat up on the edge of the massive bed.WhatIdid to her last night…what the fucker,Thunemade me do…

His stomach twisted, threatening to turn over entirely.Hebraced a forearm on his knee and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Thune’s “play room” kept playing over and over in his mind.

The fucking pink drink burning down his throat, flooding his veins with heat and need until it drove everything rational right out of him…theTrollox’sthree heads watching from the shadows asThunebarked orders for degradation and pain…

But most of all he rememberedNoelle…Noellebeneath him, soft and shaking and trying to be brave as he rutted inside her, hurting her over and over until both of them came because that fucking pink drink forced them to.

Burn wanted to be sick.

Every instinct he had as aKindredmale rebelled violently against what had happened.Hisentire species was built on protecting and cherishing women—on giving them pleasure, not pain.

ButThunehad made them animals.He’dmadeBurntake her too hard, made him ignore the way she trembled, made him thrust until?—

Burn squeezed his eyes shut again, fists clenching helplessly.

I hurt her.Ihurt the womanI?—

He couldn’t even finish the thought.Notin words.

His head throbbed harder.Asour taste coated his tongue.Theaftereffects of the pink drink still crawled through his bloodstream—sticky, unwanted heat lingering like a stain he couldn’t scrub off.

He wanted to go to her room.Hewanted to see her with his own eyes…wanted to drop to his knees and tell her how fucking sorry he was.