Chapter 4
His voice.
That hungry rasp.
And his scent…
Oh, God, his fucking scent.
It’s only the pheromones, Hannah. You’re being manipulated. Your father did this to you. You don’t love this man, this wolf. It’s all in your body. Think with your head.
Except all I know is Rogan. His teeth scraping at my neck, his tongue gliding across my flesh, the warmth of his strong body melting against my own.
“What are you doing here?” he rasps against me. “Did you think I couldn’t find you? You’re in my body, princess. In my soul. And—” He inhales deeply, hold it. “My God… You’re… You’re…”
I use all my strength to pull away from him.
“Pregnant,” I say. “The word you’re looking for is pregnant, Rogan.”
“Fuck, Hannah…” He crushes his mouth down on mine.
It’s pointless to resist. My body is a slave to him as much as his is to me. It’s not real, but still it exists—that instinctual pull, that raw and feral desire and passion.
I open for him, let my tongue touch his, and the kiss becomes ravenous. I’m exposed, so exposed. This man drains myself from me, and I’m no longer Hannah.
I’m one with him, with Rogan.
And it’s got to stop.
I push him away, breaking the kiss with a loud pop. “Stop!”
“I won’t. You’re mine, princess. You always were, and you always will be.” He glances at my abdomen. “Especially now.”
“Rogan, no.” I swallow, my legs unsteady. My God, just being in his presence has me wanting to escape reality. Run into that green meadow in the ether and be with him forever.
Except…
None of this is real.
It’s all manufactured by my father.
And why?
Only he can answer that question, and he’s back in the ether, safe in his bunker while his minions fight his battles for him.
“What do you mean no?” Rogan narrows his eyes. “You’re mine, Hannah.”
“It’s not real, Rogan,” I say. “None of it is real.”
“Shut the fuck up!” His mouth comes down on mine again.
The door to the closet isn’t quite closed. Anyone could wander by, hear our moans and grunts. But I don’t care.
In this moment, I don’t care that everything between Rogan and me is fabricated, forged, fake.
I can’t help myself.
I succumb to it. To the fake feelings between us.
I succumb…
Just this once.
One more time, and then I’ll find my strength. I’ll find myself.
I’ll be able to let go.
If I just have Rogan one more time…
I melt into him and revel as his strong hands move the straps of my tank top off my shoulders.
God, his touch…
It scorches me, sets me on fire between my legs.
How? How did my father manage this?
How could he—
Words cease, then. No more thoughts of my father, of his treachery.
Of his fucking lies.
Only Rogan.
Rogan and me.
I lose myself in the kiss, as I’ve done so many times before.
No more Hannah.
Only the kiss.
Only the two of us…together.
He cups my breasts, thumbs my nipples, and I moan into his mouth, my legs turning to jelly.
His tongue tangles with mine, and when he finally pulls back to suck in a breath, he squeezes my tits. “Fuck, princess,” he growls. “Have to have you. Have to have you now.”
“God, yes,” I say on a breath.
He turns me around so I’m facing the wall, and in an instant, my leather pants are around my knees, and his fingers are between my legs.
He inhales. Touches me. Groans. “So fucking wet…”
And I am. I’m wet. Ripe. Ready.
Just one more time…
That’s all I need.
His cock inside me once more, and then I’ll find the strength to leave.
His warm breath sears the sensitive flesh of my neck, and the blood echoes in his veins. It’s moving quickly, whooshing, heading toward his cock.
The pouch of O neg I drank only moments before has no more effect on me. The need—no, the ache—for Rogan’s blood thunders through me, and I turn to face him as my gums tingle and my fangs descend.
His emerald eyes are smoky with desire, and his carotid pulses like a beacon in his neck.
I lick my lips.
“Take it,” Rogan growls. “Take from me, princess. Take what you need.”