Prey for Me

Chapter Fourteen #3

Pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about, I slip my fingers into the waistband of my panties.

He grabs my arm. “Keep these on. After I win, and you’re soaked, I want you to wear your shame. Every time you move, you—and anyone near you—will be reminded of my win and my power over you.”

Fuck. I swallow his promise. Like a virus, it infects me, with evidence of the infection appearing as goose bumps on my skin.

“Spread your legs. Ass out for me.” I lean forward slightly, putting more weight against my hands on the glass so my backside is accessible to him.

“Keep your hands there. Don’t move them.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.”

With his thigh wedged between my legs, he commands, “Sit.”

“Yes, Master.” I lower myself until I’m perched right on his thigh.

Caleb grips my waist. Using his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts my hips forward, angling my clit perfectly on his muscular quad.

It’s the spot. And it’s at this moment I lose my confidence.

When he reaches around, he grabs my throat and leans me back against him, resting my head on his shoulder. He wraps his other arm around my waist, holding me close, trailing hot kisses down my jawline and neck.

I part my lips.

His lips are soft against my skin while his hand grips me firm around my neck. In between kisses and nips, he chokes me. Each time, he loosens his grip to let me breathe before resuming the deliciously dark threat of his pressure.

The feel of oxygen returning to my foggy brain has me craving the haze all over again.

I inhale sharply.

“Mm . . . So, you like danger . . . Just how much can you handle?” Caleb breathes in my ear. Keeping his hold of my neck, he grazes his free hand up to my chest and over my breast. He kneads my swollen lump in his palm, massaging in circles, before he pinches and tugs my nipple.

I hiss, then bite my bottom lip, hiding my moan.

He chuckles low in my ear. “By all means, speak up. Let them hear how much of a dirty little slut you are for me.”

I let out my moan.

“Much better . . . I like that,” he whispers and squeezes my throat, restricting my airways once more. “If I wanted you silent, you would be.”

When he’s not tugging, he’s massaging, kneading, pinching and rolling my nipples. He repeats this over and over—alternating between kissing my neck and shoulder and nibbling on my ear. He removes his hand from my breast and trails it down my body.

I still in anticipation. My chest heaves as I try not to move my head and follow his skilled hand with my eyes. I fail, and my head looks down slightly but is jolted back up with his grip on my neck.

Unable to see what he’s doing, and only able to feel what he will do to me. My heart is racing.

His hand travels past my stomach and finally reaches my mound, brushing over the material. My head lolls back, grateful for his newest discovery. My luck is fleeting because he keeps venturing south, grazing past my needs to my thigh.

Remembering the terms of the bet, I bite back a whimper. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

His hand sprawls down and over my knee, then trails lazily back up my inner thigh, just barely brushing the hem of my panties.

His route teases my nerve endings and leaves goosebumps in his wake.

He repeats this action, choking and planting kisses and tugging bites on my neck in between strokes.

With each pass over my skin, he increases the pressure of his touch, until his rubbing turns into clawing, likely leaving scratches behind.

I hiss again, but I don’t want him to stop. The pain is . . . intoxicating.

He sucks my neck to soothe his rough caress, gripping just as hard as he’s sucking.

Endorphins flood my senses, and I groan.

He chuckles. “If I didn’t know any better . . . I’d say you liked that. Did that feel good?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Mm, yeah? Lean back for me. Let me see.” He releases his strong grip on my throat and gently pushes my breast out of the way as he peers over my shoulder.

To give him a better view, I curl my hips under, and he peers over my shoulder to get a look at my arousal, likely coating his thigh below me.

“Yeah, you do . . . Look at the mess you’ve made on me. That’s so hot.”

My panties are hiked up and bundled in his fist, tugging upward, forcing the fabric to rub up and down against my sensitive flesh. My eyes flutter.

“Keep those eyes open. Don’t hide from how wrong you are.”

The things he’s saying, the things he’s doing . . . I can’t help myself. My body has a mind of its own, and I roll my hips, grinding myself on his thigh, stimulating myself.

He doesn’t move. Instead, he lets me.

He didn’t have to locate my clit. He didn’t have to touch it. He coaxed my own need out, a need for him to touch me.

I pant. “More. I need more. Please.”

“Mmm, yeah?” He hisses. “Oh, shiiitttt. That’s a good girl. Rub that pussy for me. Look at you making that pussy feel good for me. Fuck, I didn’t even have to touch you . . . I would destroy you, Jay.”

I believe him now.

With every roll of my hips, I climb further. The friction is so overstimulating that my own senses overwhelm me.

My clit burns with arousal. I need more. I grind harder and faster, covering more surface area. My stomach tightens as the threat of an orgasm nears.

“You want to come, don’t you?”

With my mouth agape, my mind boggled, I can’t find the right words to respond, but I want to. I’ll say anything if it means he doesn’t interrupt what’s building.

He grips my throat. “I asked you if you wanted to come. What do you say?”

“Yes, Master,” I choke out.

“Good girl. Mmm . . . I bet you do. Only good girls get to come. Are you my good girl?”

Only when I want something and right now, I want to ride out this wave until I drown him. Which is why I say, “Yes, Master.” I’m getting so close.

He clicks his teeth. “I don’t think so . . . Wasn’t it you who rolled your eyes at me earlier?”

Stalling, I feign astonishment. “Me? Rolling my eyes?” I ask, breathy and sarcastically. I shake my head, rejecting his accusation. “It doesn’t sound like me.”

Almost there.

I roll my hips faster, sprinting for the finish line.

Ignoring my act, his eyes drift to his lids, nodding to himself.

“Yeah . . . Yeah, that was definitely you. Now tell me this.” Having confirmed what he knows, he looks to the floor, licking his lips.

He pauses to find the words. Once he has them, he peers at me.

Quizzically smug, he asks, “Do good girls roll their eyes at their master?”

“The way you ask questions you already know the answer to is annoying, you know that? I didn’t think so.” Dodging my deflection, he grabs my hips, halting me completely.

Like the bastard he is, he mocks me. “Aw . . . No, please, don’t!

I’ll be good.” He laughs wickedly. A hand wraps around my throat again, and he whispers menacingly in my ear, “Being a wolf may make you a predator, but don’t be stupid.

You are every bit my prey, and I could devour you anytime.

Anywhere. And you’ll take it every single time, like the bitch you are. ”

I swallow hard.

He tugs upward once on my panties, and my clit is so sensitive that I hiss. “You’ll wear these to remind you of just that. Now get off of me,” he says coldly.

His instant mood swing confuses me. Stripped and embarrassingly vulnerable, my soaked panties are a perfect symbol of how I feel right now, like a cheap whore laced with shame.

I bend forward and grab hold of my pants, bundled around my ankles, and somehow, that makes me feel even worse.

I’m getting ready to step into them when Caleb says, “Look at that. I made you fold.”

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

I’ve lost more than just this bet but my dignity. Once dressed, we both head back inside. Crawling back to my position on my hands and knees. My anxiety tells me that everyone is looking at us. A thought occurs to me, What if everyone heard us?

And even though no one asked her, my wolf answers anyway, Probably.

So not helpful, I say to her.

Caleb bends to eye level with me. “Ready to meet my pack?”

***

“We have a guest among us today.” Caleb jerks on the leash, and I stumble forward on my hands and knees like a dog until I’m directly beside him. “This is my new slave.” He tugs on the leash again, choking me. “Say hello, slave.”

“Bite me, Caleb.” I match his pleasant sound and raise him a smile.

“She’s not quite trained yet.” He winks at the crowd.

I’ve embarrassed him in front of his people. And I immediately regret it.

Think about Casey.

He grips the collar, tugging me, so I’m face to face with him. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Do you want to find out what happens when I get to three? I can promise this lesson won’t be as enjoyable as the last.”

I swallow hard at his threat. Do it for Casey, I remind myself. I sigh.

Would punching him square in his jaw have counted as one strike or would it have been an automatic strikeout? I should’ve been more strategic with my strikes. I really wasted them.

I close my eyes, burying my pride as deep as I can. When I open them, I shake my head no.

“No . . . I didn’t think so.” Caleb grins at my resignation. “You’re a guest here. Don’t be rude. Say hello.”

His suggestion that I am a guest when I am indeed a prisoner is laughable. Nonetheless, I face the crowd and croak, “Hello.”

Silence. Each pack member wears a scowl, a look of disgust or fear. Their preconceived notions make them scared of what they don’t understand.

I think that’s what hurts the most: I’m misunderstood but not a monster.

I’m not any happier to see them either, but I am relieved when Caleb doesn’t expose me as the murderer of their alpha.

I don’t know why he doesn’t, but I’m not one to question a good thing.

I’ll take any luck I can get at this point.

“Now, let’s get started. Shall we?” Caleb takes his seat on his prominent chair and folds his hands in his lap. “Who’s first?”

Members of the pack line up to speak with Caleb. All share their condolences, but some throw a few passive aggressive comments my way. They had a ton to complain about, especially for a pack that seems to have everything. Every single grievance was more pathetic and insulting than the last.

“Thank you, everyone, for bringing my attention to things that need to be addressed. I will take all suggestions under advisement and see that your luna receives them.”

So, he doesn’t have any real authority in his pack yet, does he? I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“In other news, prepare for training. You can expect to see King Dax at Bloodhound more often. He will be here to train everyone to fight. Everyone is required to participate. That includes pups.”

The crowd explodes.

“Why should we have to train? It is your job to protect us.”

“Yeah! Alpha Jack would never have stood for this.”

“And where’s Luna Kathy? Shouldn’t she be here to deliver the news?”

“Uh—” Caleb scrambles for an answer. “You saw what happened last time. We need to learn to stand on our own.”

“Ain’t that the truth! I lost my babies because of them!”

Caleb tries to speak over the crowd, but he’s quickly drowned out by another.

“They can’t save us. We have to save ourselves.”

“Mm-hmm. I know that’s right,” a lady says, crossing her arms.

“Quite frankly, I don’t see the issue. We should be prepared in case it happens again.”

“Again? At this point, what is there left to take? They destroyed almost everything!”

“Well, I for one, am strongly against violence. It’s considered a sin.”

I tune out the unrest. My opinions on pups fighting are strong, but I remind myself they’re only being forced to train, not turned into little soldiers.

“Enough!”

Caleb’s boom causes me to jump. Bloodhound bares their neck.

The crowd hushes.

I’ve never heard him use such a tone, and I’ve pushed a fair share of his buttons.

“The decision has been made. It’s an order of the crown. End of discussion.”

Caleb shifts on his feet. “Now, onto the annual reminder: All wolves are to participate in the Hunt their twenty-first year. No exceptions. The Hunt is coming in two months so make sure to register. There have been some changes to how things are done this year. A newsletter listing eligible bachelors and bachelorettes will be distributed. Also”—Caleb swallows hard— “we are slowly replenishing our supplies after the ransacking, but there will not be enough steaks for people to have multiple servings at this year’s feast.”

“How are we supposed to celebrate the Hunt without steaks?”

That’s privilege at its finest. And they reek of it.

I scoff. A little too loud, apparently because Caleb whips his head to look at me.

Aw, crap. Here we go.

I brace myself.

Caleb snatches me by the collar and drags me out of the room. Once in the hallway, he slams me against the mirror by my throat. I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter at the force. I wince from the impact.

“What was that?” he snaps, pointing at the direction we just came from.

“I’m sorry, it’s just . . . There are people starving, yet that guy’s biggest problem is whether there are going to be enough steaks for your feast. I mean, come on.” I laugh through my words, hoping he has a sense of humor, but the look on his face says otherwise.

“I see. You think we’re privileged.”

“Well, yeah.”

“How do you think we get this food, hm? We put in the work. We’re out there hunting practically every day and night. We spend days ensuring we have enough food to serve us, and our allies. Just because you had nothing does not mean that we’ve had everything handed to us,” he says.

Great. Not only have I embarrassed him, I’ve hit a nerve. You would have thought I had called him a spoiled brat with the way he’s taking it. And he is spoiled.

I can’t help myself. “I’ve had to go days without food. They may have to go to one feast with only one steak instead of many. We are not the same.”

As quickly as I finish, I regret the words. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I gave you three chances, and you’ve broken every. Single. One. I don’t want your sorrys. I want your obedience. I want your pain.”

“What’re you going to do to me?”