Clyde dropped his pants with the rest of his clothing; briefs and shirt. His eyes narrowed as he reviewed Emma with eyes so hungry, so dark, that they made her heart flutter. He stood before her naked, his cock thick and hard for her, the muscles in his powerful thighs flexing, his large hands clenching and unclenching.“You are going to regret saying that,” he said in a low voice, dangerously calm, and controlled, tentatively touching the place he had bitten on the side of Emma's neck. His words set her on fire. His gaze, following her curves from her still trembling eyes, to her pussy, belly, breasts, neck, and back up to meet her eyes, scorched her and made every patch of skin ache for more of his touch.Her stomach clenched, and her heart rate picked up. She was enjoying the challenge. “Show me all you're made of, Clyde,” she challenged.In a flash, she saw his eyes get darker, his pupil showing a radiant danger. “Come here,” he ordered and took a step back. “Bend, Emma,” he point
All night long, Clyde took whatever he wished for, draining Emma until she was quivering. She was out of breath, sucking in oxygen from the little, which didn't seem enough in the room.Finally, after hours of rummaging, they both collapsed on the bed. Clyde still buried deep in Emma without pulling out. “Emma, you complete my world and I love you so much,” he whispered in her ears.Without hesitation, knowing where her heart belonged, she responded. “I love you too, Clyde. Just don't be an asshole,” she teased, slapping him across the chest.Immediately, Clyde caged both of her wrists, pinning them above her head. “Speaking of assholes, I want to take yours,” he informed her.“Not happening, Clyde. I'm utterly spent. And, that place is restricted. You can take me wherever else, but not in the ass.”Chuckling, “I wasn't asking. I was demanding.”Emma, rolled her eyes at him, which she soon regretted when he slapped her hard across her ass cheeks. Twitching, she jerked forward, wincing
No one knew better than Emma Watson that the Formonix warehouse sheltered secrets about her parent’s gruesome murder. She believed that some truth lingered within the walls of the organization. However, the only problem was that no one else believed her. For some strange reason, everyone urged her to drop the case and bury her nose in another one. ‘These are people you don’t want to mess with.’ Her boss would say every time she discovered a clue leading back to the warehouse. ‘They are dangerous people, Emma, even the government knows not to mess with them.’ Her partner had warned her. Why was everyone trying to get her to drop the case? Eleven years ago, her parents were murdered mysteriously. Their killer had taken her world and twisted it into a sad version of what it had once been. She was just a little girl, with a shattered heart. She didn’t remember a time in her life without grief. She couldn’t recall a life where she went shopping with her mum or dressed up for Hallowe
She straightened her shoulders, and a wave of confidence washed through her as she clenched her jaw and proceeded to join other workers who had already started with their work. That was her chance to pick up clues. She wouldn’t let fear stop her from getting to the truth. There were crates heaped over around the building. There were stacks and stacks of them, and they were sorted into groups by the workers. Her mind echoed with her first plan. ‘Find out what’s in those crates…’ She spotted a group of women who worked silently at the corner and moved to join them. Upon reaching them, she observed them and took a step back, frightened by their callous eyes and massive size. They all seemed to sense her at the same time because they paused immediately, their hands falling limply by their side and their eyes peering at her. She met their gazes briefly, hating the dread and helplessness that washed over her. Something was not right. Something was wrong with the atmosphere. Or was
Her mind was steering all sorts of things she liked to keep away. But she needed all the ideas and brutality in the world if she was going to survive. Ten meters, or more as she figured it, people were surrounding her. Eleven. Her eyes counted them. And they were staring at her with such hostility that sent shivers down her spine. She had her gun, and it was loaded with bullets. But how fast would she be able to shoot eleven men scattered around the room? It was impossible. Nonetheless, she had to try. She had to save herself. They were still watching her. Whatever was keeping them from attacking her was far beyond Emma’s reasoning. Maybe they were aroused by her defenseless looks and just viewed her as a lump of fresh, tender meat. Whatever, she would have to use their underestimation as her strength. It happened in a second. She reached and pulled her gun, but he was faster than her, faster and stronger. She didn’t even have a second to aim, Callus had launched himself towards
Before she could grasp what was happening, Emma heard the crunching of bones and a wet slapping sound similar to that of a skin stretching. Her attacker’s features became more feral, their eyes changing and their faces contorting. Their fingers thickened, becoming dangerous claws, and their ears swooped back. They became a bit taller than they were, their feet growing longer and ankles raised off the ground. Loud grunts and snarls filled the room as their teeth extended into fangs and fur burst across their form. Emma watched fearsomely as they transformed into creatures she had never seen in her life. Eleven horrible creatures were crouching and circling their prey, who were standing undisturbed by their transformation. Their humaneness was replaced by beastly features. Whoever or whatever the man was, he was not frightened by them. But it wasn’t a fair fight, and he didn’t transform like them. Emma shuddered, struggling to keep her composure as she watched them standing in an
Standing in the middle of destruction, his chest rising and falling, Clyde slowly raised his black vacant eyes to meet his mate who had watched him tear apart limbs and heads. She was coiled in a corner, her eyes screaming fear. He took a step closer, disappearing into the darkness for only a brief moment before reappearing only inches away from her. He was standing before her, his soulless black eyes staring into hers. She was unable to suppress her fear and trembled beneath him. He couldn't discern if she was terrified of the massive head he held like a trophy or his demeanor. He didn't have to know that. All he knew was that she was terrified of him. He didn't blame her. He killed eleven men, who she watched transform into unknown creatures far from humans. He didn't kill them with a gun or knife like she intended. No. He had ripped off their heads with his hands, bathing himself with the blood of her enemies. She should, of course, be terrified of him. Power flushed through
Emma's eyelid fluttered, then flew open. She was covered in a cold sweat, her heart pounding as she glanced around the room, paranoid that the horror in her dream may have followed her back. Fortunately, she was alone. A low groan escaped her lips as she tried to turn on the bed. She was hurting, but she hadn't realized it until then. She stared down at herself. She was still fully dressed. She had been sleeping on her bed, in her brightly colored room flooded with light. But something wasn't right. The first indication of that was her bruised body. Her head ached with pain and her neck had weird scratch marks. She didn't remember getting into a fight or changing into the pajamas she had woken up with. The second was her bedsheet, which was covered in blood stains. Looking around her room, her eyes caught her overall, lying close to the bathroom door, and the memories of her night flooded her mind instantly. She hadn't been dreaming. It was all real. The attack, the creatures, th