I hit the ground hard—face down, cheek pressed into wet leaves, one leg pinned beneath me. My wrists scraped stone. My cry was short, breathless, already lost in the pounding of blood in my ears.
A growl broke behind me.
Low.
Not from a beast.
From a man.
Hot breath at the nape of my neck.
A hand fisted in my hair.
The scent hit me like a slap — dark spice, leather, pine.
Kael.
I didn't see his face.
I didn't need to.
I knew the shape of his silence.
I tried to move. His weight pressed me down—hips flush to mine, chest grazing my back.
A hand slid beneath the torn hem of my dress.
He didn't speak.
Not a single word.
His fingers traced the curve of my hip.
Found the slick heat between my thighs.
I choked on a gasp.
His growl deepened.
Not in anger.
In possession.
I felt his mask graze my shoulder—bone-white, snarling.
He hadn't removed it.
He was the hunter tonight.
I was prey.
And I had been caught.
His weight covered me.
Not crushing.
Just… absolute.
The leaves beneath us gave with a soft rustle as he adjusted, his knees pressing into the dirt on either side of mine. His breath was steady. Controlled.
The bone-white mask hovered beside my face — the carved wolf maw opened mid-snarl. His silence was more terrifying than any growl.
His fingers moved.
Not rough.
Not fast.
They slid up my thigh, slow and searching, until they reached the edge of the torn silk. Then higher.
I tensed.
His hand flattened over my hip.
Still.
Holding me in place.
The tips of his fingers brushed the damp heat between my legs again — not testing, not unsure. Just feeling.
I hated the sound I made.
Half gasp, half whimper.
Kael shifted forward, his hips grinding lightly against my ass through his trousers. I could feel the outline of his arousal—thick, hard, heavy with intent. He didn't push. He didn't thrust.
He reminded.
His other hand lifted, tracing the curve of my spine, slowly pushing the torn fabric off my shoulder.
He bent low.
Lips pressed to the back of my neck.
A lick.
A kiss.
Then—
A bite.
Not enough to pierce.
Just enough to mark.
I flinched, a soft sound escaping me as heat coiled low in my belly.
Shame chased it.
But it didn't matter.
He wasn't asking.
He reached between my thighs again and spread me gently with two fingers.
Air kissed me where no one should see.
Where he wanted everyone to see.
He lowered his mouth again, this time trailing along the curve of my shoulder, teeth grazing my skin like a predator scent-marking its kill.
Still silent.
Still masked.
Still Kael.
Then he shifted lower.
His breath slid over the backs of my thighs.
I stiffened.
"Kael…" I whispered.
The mask tilted.
He ran his tongue up my inner thigh — slowly — then bit, hard enough to make me jolt.
But not hard enough to bleed.
He growled.
Low.
Deep.
Claiming.
Then—
He lifted the edge of my torn dress. Just a little.
Gripped my hips.
And began to grind against me.
Slow.
Measured.
I cried out softly as his cock pressed against me — clothed, but full and deliberate. Every movement dragged friction through silk and flesh and shame. I felt him slide along me, over the place that throbbed from running and fear and unwanted heat.
He didn't take me.
But he didn't stop.
He used my body like it belonged to him, moving slowly, sensually, rhythmically—until I couldn't tell where humiliation ended and something darker began.
"Why…" I whispered, not even knowing what I was asking.
Kael's voice, muffled behind the mask, answered low:
"Because they're watching."
I froze.
And in the shadows beyond the trees—
I saw eyes.
Dozens.
Packmates.
Masked. Silent.
Witnessing.
Kael gripped my hair, turned my face to the side — not hard, but firmly.
"Let them see," he said, "because she felt the same when your dad made everyone see the show of her getting ruined."
I didn't understand what he meant by that and who he was referring to. What he meant by when he talked about my dad with so much hate and why there was a hint of sadness when he mentioned 'her'.
And with one final thrust against my soaked center, he groaned low.
He didn't need to finish.
Because I did.
Shaking.
Silent.
Ruined.
His hand slid from my thigh.
His mask hovered one more second.
Then he was gone.
Leaves rustled.
And I was alone.
I didn't move.
Not when the leaves stopped rustling.
Not when his scent began to fade.
Not even when I heard the soft crunch of his boots turning, the subtle retreat of the bone-white mask vanishing into shadow.
I stayed there.
Face turned to the dirt, thighs trembling, breath shallow.
The silk dress clung between my legs — damp, wrinkled, ruined.
The mark on my thigh throbbed with every heartbeat. The sting of his bite. The imprint of his mouth. The shame he'd branded me with in front of his pack.
But I didn't cry.
I didn't scream.
I didn't run.
I just breathed.
In and out.
Like the earth was my anchor and the silence was my defiance.
Behind my eyes, the world glowed red.
My wolf stirred again — not gentle this time.
She prowled.
She didn't want comfort.
She wanted blood.
The air shifted.
Familiar weight returned in my periphery.
Kael.
He hadn't left.
I heard him take one step forward.
Then stop.
I didn't look at him.
I didn't speak.
He said nothing either.
The silence stretched long between us, thick as fog. I could feel him watching me. Not with hunger now. Not with cruelty.
With something else.
Uncertainty.
Maybe even fear.
Not of me.
Of what he felt.
I stayed where I was — on the ground, wet and used and silent.
And in that silence…
I took something from him.
Not with teeth.
Not with claws.
With stillness.
With refusal.
With the terrifying truth that he had touched me everywhere — and still hadn't broken me.
When he finally left, he didn't growl.
He didn't command.
He just vanished.
And this time… I didn't feel small.
I felt dangerous.