“Stop it!” Breena demanded, her voice shaking as she backed deeper into the armchair.
“I’m just doing my job as your healer!” Dronti let out a low, dangerous laugh, his eyes narrowing.
“I don’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth.
You openly faked that bullshit warning just to stop me from touching her.” He stepped closer, his towering frame cutting off any chance of escape.
“Since you’re so bothered by another woman in my bed, you can take her place.
You won’t have to watch anymore—because you’re the one I’m having tonight.” “Wait—no!” Before she could scramble out of the chair, Dronti leaned down and scooped her up into his arms.
Breena thrashed violently, kicking her legs and hammering her fists against his chest, but her efforts were useless against his overwhelming strength.
He tossed her onto the bed, immediately pinning her down with his body.
“Be still,” Dronti growled, his hands reaching for the button of her trousers.
Breena fought back with everything she had, thrashing her hips and kicking her legs wildly to keep him off.
Because she was wearing tight denim jeans, the stiff fabric made it nearly impossible for him to strip them off while she wrestled beneath him.
Frustrated by her non-stop resistance, Dronti grabbed her by the hips and roughly flipped her onto her stomach to pin her arms.
As he shoved her down against the mattress, her shirt pulled up, exposing the bare skin of her lower and upper back.
Dronti stopped.
The harsh words died on his tongue.
Staring down at her back, his eyes caught the sight of long, angry red gashes crisscrossing her spine.
Several of the deep scratches had reopened during her thrashing, oozing fresh crimson blood onto the smooth skin.
Breena cursed beneath her breath, using his sudden hesitation to scramble out from under him.
She practically rolled off the bed and dashed toward the exit, grabbing the handle to pull the door open.
It wouldn’t budge.
Loss of hope washed over her.
Breena sank against the cold wood of the door, her shoulders slumping as she realized she was entirely at his mercy.
Dronti slowly got off the bed, his eyes fixed on her bleeding back.
“What are those?” he asked, his voice losing its carnal edge, replaced by a strange intensity.
“Why do you have so many marks on your back?” “It’s none of your business,” Breena spat without looking at him, pressing her spine flatter against the door.
“Pay no attention to it.” Dronti closed the distance between them with slow strides.
“Let me see the wounds.
Or at least let me treat them.” “Step back and put on some clothes!” Breena shouted, glaring at his naked form.
“You’re unsightly!
I can take care of my own damn wounds!” Dronti ignored her completely.
Leaning down, he effortlessly scooped her off her feet like she weighed nothing more than a piece of paper.
Breena hated how easily he handled her, slamming her fists against his shoulders in frustration.
He didn’t even flinch.
He carried her back to the bed and laid her down gently on her stomach.
Before she could roll over, his heavy palm rested on her shoulder, holding her down.
“Don’t worry,” Dronti murmured, his voice surprisingly quiet as he lifted her shirt further to inspect the injuries.
“I’m not going to fuck you.
Now tell me…
what wolf did this to you?” Breena kept her face pressed into the pillow, refusing to utter a sound.
“Don’t stay silent, healer,” he commanded, his thumb carefully tracing the edge of an inflamed mark without touching the open cut.
“Stay away from me!” Breena snapped, her voice breaking with bitter anger as she turned her head sideways.
“I am cursed!
Those wounds are the punishment of my curse!” Dronti frowned, his brow furrowing as he stared down at the bloody gashes.
“What kind of curse are you talking about?” “I can’t shift,” Breena whispered, her voice tight with years of repressed shame and rage.
Dronti’s eyes darkened.
“That is a defect, not a curse.
What caused these marks?” Breena let out a harsh, dry laugh into the pillow, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“My own hands,” she confessed bitterly, her voice echoing in the quiet room.
“I made those marks myself…
every single time I tried to force my body to shift, and failed.” Dronti’s hand stilled on her back, his thumb hovering just above an open scratch.
“So you’re the outcasted wolf I’ve been hearing whispers about.” Breena let out a bitter, breathy laugh against the mattress.
“So the mighty King actually pays attention to such minor matters?” “I heard a rumor about a shiftless she-wolf living among the humans, but I honestly thought you were human,” Dronti confessed, his voice dangerously low as he leaned closer to her ear.
“You carry a human scent.
The wolf in you is so faint it’s almost invisible.” Tired of being exposed and vulnerable beneath him, Breena shifted her hips, attempting to push herself up off the bed.
“If you’re done inspecting me, let me go.” Dronti’s grip tightened instantly around her slim waist, pinning her flat against the sheets with ease.
“Don’t bother trying to force a new form, healer.
Stick to your human form—it suits you much better.” “Go ahead,” Breena spat, pulling her top down as much as his hold allowed.
“Keep making fun of my state like everyone else in the werewolf kingdom.
It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before.” Dronti’s eyes narrowed as he traced the raw, self-inflicted marks on her skin once more.
“How did you end up being an oustcast?” Breena went completely rigid, her jaw locking tight.
“It was long ago,” she said, her tone cold and defensive.
“I have no desire to bring up the past.” Dronti leaned over her back, his heavy chest lightly brushing her side as his deep, command-laden voice echoed in the quiet room.
“For your own peace of mind while you’re serving as my healer,” Dronti purred into her hair, “you had better start talking.”