MADDOX’S POV~
I didn’t blink.
I hadn’t blinked in an hour.
The room was dark, lit only by the sliver of moonlight cutting through the heavy curtains, but I didn’t need light to see her.
I could see the rise and fall of her chest.
I could see the bruise on her cheekbone, a dark, ugly purple against her pale skin.
I memorized every twitch of her nose, every ragged breath she took.
She was broken.
I knew that.
I knew exactly how much damage we had done.
My knuckles were still raw from hitting the wall, but the pain in my hand was nothing compared to the hollow, sick feeling in my gut.
Isla shifted on the bed, letting out a low, pained whimper.
Her brow furrowed, scrunching up tight.
It felt like a knife twisted in my chest.
I hated seeing her hurt.
I hated that I was the reason she was hurt.
But mostly, I hated that I couldn’t take the pain away.
She looked so small in the middle of the mattress.
So fragile.
Like if I touched her too hard, she’d shatter into a thousand pieces.
The thought made my wolf pace inside my skull, restless and angry.
She’s ours, he growled.
Fix her.
I couldn’t stay on the floor.
The distance between us felt wrong.
I stood up slowly, my joints popping in the silence.
I moved toward the bed, moving like a predator stalking prey, but my intentions were different.
I wasn’t here to hunt.
I was here to guard.
I sat on the edge of the mattress.
The springs creaked.
Isla didn’t wake up.
Her eyelashes fluttered, wet with tears even in sleep.
I lay down beside her, careful not to let my weight shift the mattress too much.
I didn’t touch her.
I kept my hands to myself, hovering inches above her arm, afraid to graze her wounds.
Then, her scent hit me.
Vanilla, rain, and something musky, something wild.
It hit my nose and my whole body went rigid.
The void inside me, the empty space that had been there for years, the space I filled with anger and cruelty, suddenly started to fill up.
My wolf stopped pacing.
I leaned over her, burying my nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deep.
My wolf howled inside my skull.
I could smell Slade’s heavy, musky sweat.
Brock’s cold cologne.
And underneath it all, the sharp, salty scent of a man’s release.
It was dried on her skin.
She was dead to the world, passed out from the pain we’d inflicted, but her body was still reacting to me.
Or maybe she was just reacting to the nightmare she was trapped in.
Her brow was furrowed deeply.
Every time she exhaled, it was a ragged sound.
I pulled the blanket down.
I had to see the damage.
My hands were shaking.
I hated that they were shaking.
I was an Alpha.
But looking at her…
There was a handprint on her inner thigh.
Dark purple.
The fingers were long, Slade’s size.
He’d gripped her hard enough to leave a permanent mark.
And lower, on her hip, a bite mark.
The skin was broken, scabbed over.
They slept with her.
They had fucked my Isla while I was back at the pack house.
They had seen her naked.
They had taken turns.
Jealousy isn’t the right word.
Jealousy is for boyfriends who lose their girlfriends to other guys.
This was something else.
This was the feeling of a dragon finding another beast’s claw marks on its hoard.
She had been mine before she even crossed paths with my brothers.
She was my girlfriend. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
I was the one who held her hand.
I was her first kiss.
Her first everything.
But I never stopped wanting her.
Not for one second.
I felt sick.
I wanted to vomit.
But then anger took over.
I needed to get them off her.
I needed to scrub their existence out of her pores.
I stripped her underwear off.
I balled it up and threw it into the corner.
Now she was completely exposed to me.
I didn’t undress.
I didn’t have time for that.
I just shoved my jeans down enough to free my cock.
It was rock hard, aching so bad it felt like it was going to burst.
The head was purple, leaking a steady stream of precum that dripped onto the sheets.
I wasn’t going to wake her up.
I positioned myself between her legs.
The heat radiating off her pussy was intense.
It was already swollen, and red, and wet.
I spat on my hand, then rubbed the saliva over the head of my cock.
I lined myself up with her entrance.
I didn’t push in.
I couldn’t.
She was too small, and I was too big.
If I tried to knot her now, I’d tear her apart.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I grabbed her hips hard.
My fingers dug into the soft flesh, right over Slade’s handprint, pressing down until I felt the bone.
I wanted to crush his memory out of her.
Then I drove forward.
I didn’t fuck her.
I ground against her.
I dragged the entire length of my cock up and down her slit, smashing my pelvis against her ass.
The sound was wet.
The friction burned.
But it felt good.
God, it felt good.
I was coating her in my precum.
I was smearing it over the dried white streaks I saw on her thighs.
I was overwriting their scent with mine.
Every inch of her skin that I touched became mine.
“Isla,” I grunted.
She whimpered in her sleep, her toes curling.
She was dreaming.
I hoped she was dreaming of me drowning her.
I sped up.
The rhythm became erratic.
I was losing control.
My wolf was scratching at the back of my eyes, demanding I bite her, breed her, ruin her.
I reached down and found her clit.
It was swollen, sensitive.
I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger, twisting it hard.
Isla’s back arched off the mattress.
A silent, broken sob escaped her lips.
She didn’t wake up, but her body convulsed.
That was all it took.
Hot, thick ropes of cum shot out of me, painting her lower back, her ass, the inside of her thighs.
I kept grinding, milking myself dry, making sure every drop landed on her skin.
I wanted her to be sticky with me.
I wanted her to wake up and feel my seed drying on her legs like a second skin.
I knew she was dreaming now.
I could hear the change in her breathing.
It wasn’t the ragged, painful gasp of before.
It was deeper.
Wetter.
She let out a low moan, her head rolling back against my shoulder.
Her hips bucked backward, pressing her ass hard against my groin.
I knew Isla had fantasized about me.
I knew because I had smelled it on her for years, that sweet, heavy scent of want that she tried to hide with fear.
Even when I was cruel to her, even when I ignored her, her body had always known who it belonged to.
Now, in her sleep, her defenses were down.
The painkillers or the exhaustion had stripped away the hate, leaving only the raw instinct of the mate bond.
She whimpered again and that sound went straight to my cock.
I continued to drag the broad head of my cock up and down her slit.
The friction was incredible.
Her folds were swollen, wet with her own arousal.
She was soaking the sheets.
I increased the pressure.
I ground my pelvis into her ass, creating a rhythm.
Isla’s breathing hitched.
Her hand came up, grabbing my forearm.
Her nails dug in, not to push me away, but to pull me closer.
She arched her back, lifting her hips higher, giving me better access.
“Maddox,” she mumbled.
It was barely a whisper, lost in the pillow.
Hearing my name on her lips while she was asleep, while she was moving against me…
it broke something inside me.
I leaned down and bit the side of her neck.
I didn’t break the skin, but I clamped down hard enough to leave a bruise.
I growled against her ear, the vibration rumbling through both of us.
“That’s it,” I whispered roughly.
“Take it.
Take me.”
She responded by pushing back harder.
Her ass rubbed against my thighs, her pussy lips fluttering around the head of my cock.
She was chasing the friction.
I felt the knot at the base of my cock start to swell.
It was throbbing, demanding to be inside her.
The urge to knot her was a physical pain, a cramping in my balls that made my toes curl.
But I held back.
I rubbed the knot against her entrance, teasing the sensitive ring of muscle, letting it catch on her folds but not pushing inside.
I wanted to stretch her.
I wanted to prepare her for when I finally did take her.
Isla gasped, her whole body jerking.
A fresh wave of wetness coated my cock, soaking my pubic hair.
I moved my hand from her hip to her throat.
I wrapped my fingers around the front of her neck, not squeezing, just holding.
I could feel her pulse hammering against my palm.
I rubbed my cock faster, harder.
The friction burned, but it was a good burn.
I was coating her in my precum, smearing it over her entrance, mixing it with her own slickness.
I was painting her.
“Come for me, Isla,” I ordered quietly.
“Come on my cock.”
As if she heard me, her body seized.
Her back arched off the mattress, her toes curling into the sheets.
A low, broken cry escaped her lips, muffled by the pillow.
I felt her pussy spasm, the muscles contracting rhythmically against the head of my cock.
She came.
Hard.
Her juices flowed out, running down my shaft, dripping onto my balls.
The sensation of her climaxing around me was too much.
My vision went white.
I roared, but I smothered the sound against her shoulder.
I came all over her lower back and ass, thick, white ropes of cum shooting out in pulses.
I kept grinding, milking myself dry, making sure I covered every inch of skin I could reach.
I lay there for a moment, buried in her scent.
It was overwhelming now.
The smell of her orgasm, the smell of my cum, the smell of us.
It drowned out the smell of the other brothers.
I pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.
I was just about to pull out and clean myself up when the air in the room changed.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
My wolf stopped purring and started snarling.
They’re here.
I didn’t hear footsteps.
I felt them.
Slade.
Brock.
Colt.
They knew.
The door handle rattled.
Then, a low growl vibrated through the wood.