| • Dain’s POVMy hand fisted into her hair, not to hurt her, but to anchor her.To remind her who she belonged to. I hated the faint, foreign scent of another man that clung to her, a stain on what was mine. She need a brand. My brand, seared into her soul.I leaned in, my teeth grazing the sensitive shell of her ear as I inhaled her scent, mixed with the smell of burning wood from the hearth. “Mine,” I growled. The word, a vow forged in the cold iron of my will.Her sharp, shuddering gasp was my reward, a sound that unraveled me even as I sought to master her. Her moans were a siren’s call to the beast I kept leashed.My wolf was straining to break free, my patience, a thin fraying rope. But by the old goddess, I would enjoy watching it snap.She was trying so hard to defy the way I made her feel, but there was a limit to how far she could run. I straightened just enough, my fingers caressing her soft skin. Her eyes were shining with tears, her jaw clenched in a raw but attractive
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