Chapter 7: The Edge of Claiming

The scent of Cassian’s seed lingered on my skin long after I returned to my room. Even after a scalding shower, I could still smell him—cedar, smoke, and pure Alpha dominance clinging to the mark on my neck and the soft flesh of my inner thighs. Sleep was impossible.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw the red recording light, felt the thick head of his cock sliding through my folds, and heard that low, tortured growl promising that the next time would be the last restraint he had left.

By late afternoon the following day my heat had climbed to a dangerous pitch. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, restless and demanding. I wore a high-collared blouse to hide the deepening bruise of his bite, but the scent of my arousal was impossible to mask.

Pack members in the corridors gave me curious glances. One of the younger Betas actually stepped closer, nostrils flaring, before Cassian’s sharp warning growl from the far end of the hall sent him scurrying away.

That evening Cassian summoned me to his private study under the pretext of reviewing pack financial reports. The moment the heavy door closed behind me he locked it. The click of the bolt sounded final.

He stood behind his desk, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, amber eyes already glowing. “Sit.”

I obeyed, perching on the edge of the large leather chair opposite him. My thighs pressed together tightly. The short skirt I had chosen rode high.

Cassian did not sit. He walked around the desk, placed both hands on the armrests of my chair, and leaned down until his face was inches from mine. “You reek of need, Evangeline. The entire east wing can smell how wet you are for me. Do you enjoy endangering everything I have built?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly, voice low and defiant. “Because the only thing I want more than safety is your knot locked inside me.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. He straightened, opened a drawer, and withdrew a small black remote. With a single press the large monitor on the wall flickered to life.

The footage from the previous night filled the screen—me bent over the studio sofa, his fingers buried deep, my face contorted in orgasm, then the moment he came across my back while the camera recorded every second.

“I kept the file,” he said, voice dark. “I should have deleted it. Instead I watched it three times this morning while I stroked myself raw thinking about how easily I could have pushed inside you.”

My breath caught. Fresh slick flooded my already soaked panties. Cassian’s nostrils flared. He reached down, gripped my chin, and forced me to keep looking at the screen.

“You want the real thing so badly you are willing to destroy your mother’s mating, my reputation, and the stability of this pack. Prove it.”

He stepped back and pointed to the thick Persian rug in front of the fireplace. “On your hands and knees. Present.”

I slid from the chair and assumed the position without hesitation, skirt flipped up, panties dragged down to my knees. The cool air kissed my exposed folds. Cassian walked behind me, unfastening his belt with deliberate slowness. The heavy leather strap was drawn free.

The first strike across my ass was sharp and precise. I gasped, but held the position. A second and third followed, each harder than the last, heating my skin until it throbbed in time with the mark on my neck.

Between strikes he paused to drag two thick fingers through my dripping slit, collecting the evidence of my arousal and forcing them into my mouth.

“Taste how ready you are for the one cock you should never have,” he ordered.

I sucked his fingers clean, moaning around them. When he withdrew them he replaced the leather with the broad, heavy head of his cock, rubbing it slowly up and down my soaked entrance.

The swollen knot at the base nudged against my clit with every pass. I pushed back, trying to force him inside, but his large hand clamped on my hip and held me still.

“Not yet,” he growled, though the strain in his voice was unmistakable. “You will take my cock in your mouth first. You will swallow every drop. And when I decide the time has come to claim this forbidden cunt, it will be on my terms—not because you begged like a desperate little slut.”

He moved in front of me, sat on the edge of the desk, and guided my head down. I opened for him eagerly. The thick length of him filled my throat in one deep thrust.

Cassian fucked my mouth with controlled power, one hand fisted in my hair, the other occasionally reaching down to deliver another stinging slap to my reddened ass. Tears streamed from my eyes. Saliva dripped onto the rug. The wet, choking sounds of my submission filled the study.

When he came it was with a guttural roar, flooding my throat in thick, heavy pulses. I swallowed greedily, not allowing a single drop to escape. He held me there until the last tremor passed, then pulled free and wiped my swollen lips with his thumb.

Cassian’s eyes were almost completely wolf now—feral, hungry, and conflicted. He helped me to my feet, adjusted my clothing with rough hands, and pressed a single, almost tender kiss to the mark on my neck.

“Go to your room and stay there for the next forty-eight hours,” he said, voice hoarse. “No more sneaking. No more teases. When I am ready to take what is mine, I will come for you. And when I do, Evangeline, there will be cameras. There will be no mercy. And there will be no going back.”

I left the study on unsteady legs, the taste of him still heavy on my tongue, the leather welts on my ass burning sweetly with every step. In my diary that night I wrote only this:

He is cracking. Forty-eight hours. I will not last that long. The next time he touches me, I will make certain the knot goes in and stays in. Daddy is going to claim his daughter properly—whether he is ready or not.

The countdown had begun.