Wolf doesn’t give me time to adjust. He withdraws almost all the way and spears me again. Gods help me, but I have to bite down another scream. I tense, wanting to shove back onto him, but his hand on my neck keeps me in place.

On the third devastating stroke, he doesn’t immediately withdraw. Instead he snakes one hand around my hip to idly stroke my clit as he grinds slowly into me. His voice is low in my ear and barely distorted by the mask he wears. “Go ahead, baby. Scream your way through that orgasm.”

I lift my head enough to gasp, “No.”

“You know you come so much harder when someone is dying for that pussy.” He shifts the movement of his cock inside me, rubbing against my G-spot with each movement. “Show me your teeth, baby. Show him your teeth.”

It’s more tempting than it should be. I’m not the monster here, and yet I am nearly far gone enough to give Wolf exactly what he wants. To scream my way through an orgasm and sentence Luke to death.

I can’t.

I drop my head, intending to bury it in the couch cushion again, but Wolf gets there before me. His forearm, sweatshirt shoved up, meets my mouth just as I bite down. And I don’t stop. I bite him through my orgasm, my body taking over. Maybe part of me wants to punish him too. To make him hurt even a little for exposing this feral part of me that I’ve worked so hard to keep under lock and key.

Wave after wave of orgasm crests and crests again as he fucks me roughly. The slap of flesh against flesh fills the room, and I’m aware enough to distantly wonder if that will be enough to wake Luke.

I’m too far gone to stop.

When Wolf finally orgasms, he pulls out of me, and then his come is hitting my bare ass in achingly hot lashes. He eases his arm from my mouth, and I’m horrified to note the coppery taste of blood on my tongue.

He moves my hair off the back of my neck and nips me there. “Big teeth indeed, Red.”

“Wolf—”

“I’m going to text you an address. Be there at seven tomorrow night. Go to the side door. There’s a skeleton key on the knocker. If you don’t show, I’ll consider our deal null and void and take out my frustration on your little boyfriend. After you fucked around at the club the other night, and the bar last night, I have a lot of frustration.”

I blink open my eyes, not quite sure when I closed them. “What are you talking about? What address? I just fucked you. That’s our deal.”

“That was pleasure, baby. This is business. You wanted to know what it would take to leave him alone. It’s this.” He gives the nape of my neck one last light bite, and then he rises.

Without his weight at my back, I feel vulnerable in a way I’m not prepared to deal with. I sit up, pull off my shirt, and wipe down my ass, watching him fix his pants. If I hoped to catch a glimpse of his face, I’m out of luck: he’s already got the mask back in place. “What’s at the address?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow night.” He seems to study me for a long moment, and if I were even a little romantic, I might think he’s committing the sight of me naked to memory. “Don’t try to call my bluff. I don’t bluff.”

“You didn’t hurt Tatiana. Or Zayne.”

He stills. “That mercy was good investment on our future that I’m already starting to regret. Don’t make me change my mind.”

I could pretend I’m debating going, but we both know I’ll show up exactly where he wants me to. I would even without the threat against Luke, about the renewed one against Zayne and Tatiana. I’ve never felt as seen as I do with Wolf, and it’s a terrible thing, but I can’t stop myself from seeking that feeling out again and again.

Wolf moves past me, and a few seconds later, I hear the front door close. I make myself count to ten slowly, and then a second time, before I rise and pad to the bedroom door to crack it open.

The bed is empty.

Luke never came home.

I don’t know if Wolf was just fucking with me or if he didn’t know Luke wasn’t here. I guess it doesn’t matter. Luke is safe. I’ll make sure he stays safe. But that’s not why I’m going to . . .

My phone buzzes, and I walk back to the coffee table to look at the text from Wolf. It’s an address, but not one in Carver City. “What the fuck?”

A second text quickly follows.

Wolf

Check your front door.

“You motherfucker.” I stalk to the door and fling it open. There’s no one there. Instead there’s a package sitting unassumingly on the floor of the hallway.

I scoop it up, take the time to lock the door again—for all the good it will do—and head back to the coffee table to see what he’s up to now. The box is high-quality. When I lift the lid off, there’s black tissue paper with a ribbon around it. I undo the ribbon and fold back the paper, and . . . “Damn, Wolf, you have good taste.”

I lift the dress up and whistle under my breath. It’s short and sheer with ropes of pearls sewn into the fabric. I’d like to think the pearls cover the necessary bits, but I’m sure the truth is that they’ll act more as a frame for my breasts and pussy. I check the rest of the box, not finding any undergarments. There are, however, strappy heels. In my favorite brand. In my size. Because what kind of stalker would he be if he didn’t know my shoe size?

Fancy.

Wolf

Change into it tomorrow after you arrive at the address. ONLY it.

I gave my word.

The next morning, I find a flight and hotel confirmation in my inbox. That motherfucker thought of everything and left nothing to chance.

This is probably a trap. Heirs don’t travel much and for good reason. There may be peace in Carver City, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t outside threats who look at our prosperous city and want to take a bite out of it for themselves.

It’s possible that Wolf is associated with one of those entities. Probable, even. This might all be some elaborate plan to get me out from under my parents’ protection and then use me as leverage to get what they want.

I google the address Wolf gave me, not expecting to find anything, but there are a few hits of interest. One is a forum thread that . . . “Holy shit.”

The poster alleges that the Black Rose Auction is held at that address annually. “No way.” I’ve heard of the auction, of course. Everyone has. Or at least everyone in our line of business, with ties to the shadows. It’s kind of an open secret, an auction where people with money and connections can come to bid on items they don’t necessarily want to be attached to publicly.

Sometimes those items are people.

I am NOT going to be an auction item.

My parents will kill me. If this is what Wolf intends, to auction off the only daughter of Beast, Gaeton, and Isabelle Belmonte, the heir to the Belmonte territory . . . there’s no way people won’t find out. That everyone won’t find out. My shame will be on full display, and if I do it wearing this dress?

No. Absolutely not.

I glare at my phone, but other than the notification under my message changing to read, nothing happens. He doesn’t even try to text back.

I’m serious, Wolf. I’m not doing this. It’s too far.

Thirty seconds later, a picture comes in, and my heart drops into my stomach. It’s of Luke. He’s sitting at his favorite coffee shop, bent over his laptop with a look of concentration on his face. When he works, he’s completely oblivious to the world around him. Wolf could slit his throat, and he’d never see the man coming.

Wolf doesn’t reiterate his threat, but he doesn’t have to. He’s close enough to take this picture, so he’s close enough to follow through on his threat.