3. Harper
CHAPTER THREE
harper
Rhone literally threw me into the shower, steadying me with a hand to my arm when I nearly crashed to my knees.
He turned the water on and snarled, "What the fuck are you doing, Trouble?"
"Are you seriously asking me that? You said I would tear someone's throat out if I fed from them. You didn't say you would tear someone's throat out. You almost killed one of your own enforcers."
Rhone's eyes darkened, his nostrils flaring. "They’re Mav’s. Not mine."
He spun around, like he'd decided to hunt Ryker down after all.
I was going to have to turn up the heat.
"I'm not washing his cum off my legs or his blood from my mouth," I said matter-of-factly. "If you want it done, get in here and do it yourself."
His gaze may as well have been a dagger as he turned back to glare at me. The challenge in his eyes said he thought I would back down or tell him I was joking.
I wasn't, and I wouldn’t.
Like I said, I had no sense of modesty, and only possessed the barest of emotions.
My hunger overwhelmed everything else.
Rhone took one step into the shower, waiting for me to change my mind.
I didn't.
He took another step.
My shorts were still around my thighs, so I pushed them the rest of the way down for him. When I did, I noticed a thick gold chain that hung between my small breasts. They'd been softer, before. Like the rest of me.
I'd never wanted to be the sharp, vicious creature I'd become.
Something was hooked securely on a loop at the end of the chain. Something white and sharp, and about an inch and a half long. Two of them.
They almost looked like fangs.
"Are those..."
"Velour's fangs," the Beta gritted out. "I finally found the bastard. Him and his dad were hiding out in another city together."
Rhone had killed them, apparently.
I didn't have to school my expression. The crack of my spine, twice, was enough to make me glad Velour and his cruel father couldn't do that to anyone else.
I'd trusted the younger vampire with my body when I was fragile and mortal and human, and he'd killed me for it.
"He's dead?" I asked.
"I snapped his neck myself."
A soft breath escaped me, and the words came out too quickly to stop them. "Did you strip him first? I was naked when he snapped mine."
Rhone’s eyes darkened. "No. I didn’t know. I would’ve."
At least he was dead.
I almost felt relief, but it was stifled by the unending noise of my hunger.
"Thanks," I said.
I wasn't under any sort of impression that Rhone had hunted the vampire for me. A vampire who lacked the control not to turn someone would never be allowed to live. Not by vampires, humans, or werewolves. It was possibly the only thing they all agreed on.
"Wear the fangs. It'll help," Rhone said.
The long, thick gold chain was nothing that would've ever belonged anywhere near my wardrobe before. My skin had the bluest of blue undertones. Gold looked horrible against it.
Good thing I no longer tried to look nice.
Rhone's body, hair, and clothes were drenched in seconds as he kneeled in front of me in the shower.
It took a significant amount of effort to force myself not to notice or react to the way his big, rough hands felt against my center, using soap to wash Ryker's release off my skin. After he rinsed his hand, his fingers brushed my opening, his eyes on me as he gave me a moment to tell him no.
I didn't.
I wanted to see how far he'd go, and I wanted to feel his hands on me.
In me.
Every ounce of control I had went into stopping myself from reacting to the feel of his fingers inside my body, attempting to clean out slickness that wasn't my own.
The sex hadn’t been good. It had just… been.
I couldn't hide the way I grew wetter as he touched me, though he wasn’t attempting to bring me pleasure.
He couldn't hide the bulge of his massive erection in his joggers, either.
How big was he?
I hated myself for it a little bit, but my body reacted far more enthusiastically to Rhone's hands than it had to any part of Ryker. I had faked my orgasm with the enforcer when I was ready for the sex to end.
After Rhone stood back up, soaped, and washed his hands, he tipped my head back and parted my lips. He scraped the sharp tip of my fang with his finger, and literally wiped his blood across every inch of my mouth. My fangs descended more for him, and he wiped his blood over them too.
I'd given him permission, so I didn't bother telling him he was being ridiculous.
Werewolves' possessiveness was pretty much always ridiculous. They didn't care. I’d watched Maverick steal all of Bloom’s dirty clothes a few months earlier, so I was positive about that.
When Rhone was done with my mouth, he tapped his throat, narrowing his eyes when I didn’t make a move toward his neck.
He wanted me to bite him, too.
"Oren said not to drink blood when I feel physically full," I said.
"You never take more than a swallow from me anyway."
That was an exaggeration. I usually let myself have three swallows. That would cut it off just before I got overwhelmingly horny.
I rolled my eyes, but lifted a hand to his shoulder.
I expected him to push me away, but he didn't.
Instead, he grabbed my hip and hauled me off my feet. My wet legs wrapped around his waist, and my entire body warmed when my hot, bare core rested against those chiseled abs.
What insane level of possessiveness was he dealing with?
I needed to get it over with before I started feeling things or doing things that I would regret.
I sank my teeth into the Beta's throat.
He had me pinned against the shower wall in an instant.
As promised, I took one swallow of his blood before releasing him.
God, he tasted good.
Like blood, and marshmallows, and the tiniest hint of peppermint.
Like vampirism, and my humanity too. My favorite childhood memories included roasting marshmallows over the stove during sleepovers at Bloom’s house, because her family hated the outdoors but loved that part of camping culture.
I’d blocked the Sharpe’s phone numbers, after devolving. It was better for them if I stayed in the past.
I missed my humanity so much more than I'd ever imagined I could. The freedom. The security. The ease.
My life would never feel easy again. Oren had made that clear to me on many occasions.
"Swish my blood around your mouth," the Beta ordered, after I’d already swallowed it.
"This is getting ridiculous, Rhone."
"Take another swallow and swish it around your mouth, or you’ll be fucking me tonight too."
"Is that a promise?" I asked.
His eyes were dark. His rage hadn't gone anywhere. "You can’t handle me, Trouble. Bite me again. Now."
I leaned forward and lazily dragged my tongue over the puncture wounds I'd left instead.
The faint taste of blood was more than enough of a reward for the teasing.
"How did he take you?"
I went still at Rhone's question.
There was a threat in it.
No way in hell was I answering that question.
He pinned me to the wall harder. "How did he fuck you? It's a simple enough question. Did you let him take you while you were on your back? Flip you over and hold your sexy little ass in his hands while he took you from behind? Bend you over the bed and rock the mattress with every thrust?"
The rage in his voice grew deadlier with every question, but I didn’t miss the compliment he gave me.
He’d never called me sexy before.
We were in dangerous territory. For the first time ever, I wondered if Rhone might actually lose control of himself.
Because of the way he asked, I actually thought lying or refusing to respond would be worse than admitting the truth.
"I sat on his lap and did all the work, drinking his blood and fucking him." My voice was neutral, my attention on his face.
Rhone scowled. "You don't want to be in control. You want to let go."
I wasn't sure how he knew that.
Maybe Oren felt that way about sex too.
But Oren had told me that he and Nolan fought physically a lot of the time when they fucked, to ease the bloodlust even more. That was much different than wanting to let go.
So maybe Rhone just paid attention to me, as bizarre as the idea was.
"I can't afford to let go," I said.
"You can with me," Rhone growled back.
I didn't reply.
He knew I didn't agree, and there was no point in arguing about it. I'd pissed him off enough already, considering he was the person mostly supplying the blood to keep me alive.
Even if he was supplying it by choice. And by refusing to let me feed on anyone else. And apparently acting like a caveman with his favorite piece of meat when I tried to find another source.
"Did you..." He clenched his jaw for a moment before gritting out the words. "Enjoy. It."
"I haven't enjoyed anything since I turned fully. The bloodlust is all-consuming. I felt something, and it was better than nothing. But I didn't enjoy it."
"You would with me."
I said nothing.
He stared at me for too long, and I stared back.
"No one else touches you. I don't care if you walk through the whole fucking tower naked as a distraction. If you ever allow another man's cock in, on, or anywhere near your body, I will fucking tear it off and shove it down his throat. The blood will be on your hands, Trouble."
I clenched my jaw.
I would never allow another soul to haunt me the way Steven's already did.
It would drain my half-full self-preservation cup, and I'd die. I would. I'd devolve and Rhone would have to kill me, because I would never come back.
"How long have you been feeling this possessive?" I asked.
His lack of answer told me the truth.
A while.
That was the reason he'd told me never to bite anyone else.
"I'm not your mate," I said.
"No."
"We're not fated."
"No."
"You're not mine."
"No." His third no had me resisting the violent throb of my fangs. Why was he claiming me at all, if none of those things were true?
This time, my fangs wanted to tear. If I didn't get them under control, I'd spiral, and it would be ugly.
"I'm not yours, either," I said.
He didn't say no.
He tilted his chin a little, and clenched his jaw.
What the fuck?
He thought I was his?
"If you think you can walk around this tower, screwing as many women as you want, while threatening to murder someone for even bringing their cock near me—"
"I don't fuck women in the pack. And yes, I will kill anyone who brings their cock or mouth near you." He paused.
…For dramatic effect, probably. I was starting to think he was a very pissy, very temperamental, very dramatic male.
"Slowly. Violently. I'll add their teeth to your necklace when I'm done," he said.
I unhooked my legs from his hips, and he lowered me until my feet were on the floor.
The height difference between us was much worse when I was standing again. "Get the fuck out of my bathroom, Rhone."
"It’s not yours anymore. You're moving. I'm not letting you live in an apartment you fucked another male in." He stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and sniffing it before he lifted it to his hair on the way out of the bathroom.
"I don't even live here!" I yelled after him.
The bathroom door shut behind him without another word in my direction.
He was such a fucking asshole.