A few moments later, Jaime watched as Dante slowly strolled out of the trees. He didn’t come close. He stopped at least five feet away from her, stiff as a board. He didn’t speak, didn’t move his gaze from hers, didn’t move at all. It was kind of eerie. Worse, his expression was completely blank.

There was no devilish smile, no playful twinkle in his eyes. “Untie me.” No response. “Now, Dante.” Nothing. “Stop being a jerk, Popeye! You want to talk? Fine, we’ll talk. Now untie me.” Still nothing.

Okay, now she was really freaked out. She had to wonder if this was what he was like when he was interrogating intruders, if this was that “zone” that Trey had mentioned. He wasn’t going to torture her into admitting he was her mate, was he? No, Dante wouldn’t hurt her. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that he would never ever hurt her.

When Dante saw the flash of fear on her face, he almost caved. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He knew she was spooked and feeling vulnerable, but that was the whole idea. He knew just how stubborn she could be. If Jaime didn’t want to do something, nothing in the world could make her. As such, if she wanted to put those damn walls of hers up again and keep him out, there was no way to get them down again. Not unless he stripped her of them. Not unless he made her as vulnerable and unguarded as she’d been when she held Kye in her arms. The only way to get her to admit the truth to both him and to herself was to lower those walls for just a minute.

Surprising Jaime, the robotic version of her male slowly came toward her. Although he didn’t close the distance between them, she could feel the heat emanating from him and covering her like a blanket. If he reached out, he could touch her. But he didn’t. And that unblinking stare was too eerie for words.

She kicked out at him, but he caught her foot and pulled off her shoe, slinging it aside.

Instinctively, she kicked out with her other foot, only for him to do the same damn thing. Irate beyond belief, she repeatedly kicked out at him, growling and snarling. Although she managed to make contact a few times, the big, overgrown male didn’t even flinch. In fact, he waited patiently, like a parent might do for a toddler having a tantrum.

Weary and panting, she finally stilled. “Let me down, Dante,” she said unsteadily. It wasn’t just her anxiety that had her feeling shaky. It was the intense, crushing, overwhelming urge to have him inside her, to mark him, and to have him mark her. In spite of how freaked she was feeling, need was curdling low in her belly, and she was wet and aching. Going by the low growl he released as his nostrils flared, he’d sensed it.

Finally, his blank gaze freed hers, and his eyes lowered to her T-shirt. Abruptly, he unsheathed his claws and tore it open. In another abrupt movement, he snapped open her bra, freeing her br**sts.

He took a moment to look at them, hunger and lust blazing from his eyes, before shredding her jeans and panties. Her wolf growled in approval of his strength, aroused by the power in his body and the intensity of his mood. Apparently, the fact that he’d tied her to a tree was no longer so important to her wolf. Weird animal.

Cocking his head and pursing his lips, he slowly raked his eyes over her, much like a predator that had caught its prey and was assessing its worth. He took in every inch of her from her feet to her…throat. Her face didn’t seem relevant, as if all he viewed her as right now was a conveniently available body. That hurt.

“Dante, let me down.” To her infuriation and discomfort, he didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken. Ever so slowly he moved until there was only a hairbreadth between them, his eyes glued to her throat. Oh no. He was going to claim her right this second, like this. “Dante, enough is enough, all right. You’ve had your fun. Now untie this damn rope!”

Instead, he leaned forward and licked the crook of her neck. A shudder traveled down her spine and her cl*t tingled, making her gasp and moan. Again, he licked the same spot. And again. And again. Then he raked his teeth over it, and she squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what he was going to do and hating him for it. But, surprising the hell out of her, he suddenly dropped to his knees.

She watched as he inhaled deeply, taking the scent of her arousal inside him, but he didn’t lean forward as she’d expected him to. No. When he finally touched her, it was only to run his fingertip over her foot. She couldn’t help but moan in relief at the skin-to-skin contact. Taking his time, he explored every inch of her legs with the gentlest touch, sliding his hands over them like he’d never seen them before. Like he was learning her, worshipping her, memorizing her, marking her…but never was his touch seductive or invasive. He totally skipped her sensitive zones. It drove her freaking crazy, and she was breathing so heavily she thought she might hyperventilate.

Then he was exploring her stomach using his hands, tongue, and teeth. Her entire body shuddered when he traced a circle around her belly button with his tongue. She would never have thought that a soft, gentle touch could fire her arousal, but to her surprise it totally did. God, she needed to come so badly, and he knew it.

By the time he finally stood before her again, she was trembling with want. And what did he do? Just stared at her br**sts. Stared! It felt like an hour had passed before he reached out and trailed the tip of his index finger along her collarbone, pausing briefly to swirl it inside the hollow of her throat. His tongue traced that same path, and her head thumped back onto the tree as she tried arching toward him—and failed. Again, there was nothing seductive about his movements, but she was more turned on than she had ever been in her life.

She didn’t realize he’d dropped to his knees again until she felt his tongue at her navel.

Slowly, he dragged his tongue upward, occasionally nipping her flesh as he went, traveling through the valley of her br**sts and only stopping when he reached the hollow of her throat. A tremor rippled through her entire body, causing her eyes to fall shut and a loud moan to escape her.

When she opened her eyes, he still wasn’t looking at her face, but at her br**sts. She wanted him to look into her eyes, wanted some form of acknowledgement. “Untie me.” She gasped as he lazily and teasingly circled a nipple with his finger, never quite touching the hard bud itself. He gave the same treatment to the other nipple before replacing his finger with his tongue. Then he sucked her nipple into his mouth, grazing the hard bud with his teeth and biting down. “If you’re not going untie me, then at least make me come!”

The jerk didn’t react in any sense. Needing some kind of relief, Jaime wrapped a leg around his h*ps and ground her cl*t against the hard bulge in his jeans. There was no reaction from him whatsoever, as if he didn’t even notice. She was about to yell at him again when a finger suddenly slid between her folds, sending shudders of pleasure and relief through her body. That same finger lightly flicked her cl*t and circled it over and over, but the movements were too featherlike to make her come.

“Dante, why are you doing this?” she practically sobbed. He said nothing. Just slid his finger between her folds again, letting the tip hover near her entrance. “You want me to beg, is that it?” Still no reaction. Ever so slowly— too freaking slowly—he pushed his finger inside her. A noise that was something between a groan and a sob escaped her. Repeatedly, he slowly and gently thrust his finger inside her, pausing occasionally to swirl it around. God, she was so damn close to coming and so damn close to going insane. Her cries became louder as her cl**ax began closing in on her. It was going to be a big one…But then he stopped and withdrew his finger. Stopped!

She was about to tell him she was going to rip his c*ck off in his sleep when he was back on his knees and his tongue was teasing her clit. “Oh my God.” Using his thumbs to part her folds, he licked and nipped and growled against her flesh. Then he was sucking her cl*t between his lips and nibbling on the hood. She cried out as two of those magical fingers pushed inside her. Her muscles automatically tightened around them, trying to keep them. The bastard withdrew them. “Stop teasing me!” It was supposed to be a scream, but it came out as a pathetic wail.

Then Dante proceeded to show her the real meaning of being teased. Again and again, he brought her to her peak with his tongue and fingers, only to stop and wait for her to come down from her high before starting all over again. Sometimes he would return his attention to her br**sts instead, leaving her feeling emptier than she had ever felt in her life.

She sagged in relief when he finally lowered his zipper and freed his cock. The feel of the head rubbing at her entrance was so good that she almost cried. Panting with the need to come, she wrapped her other leg around his hip—an invitation. But instead of plunging inside her, he lowered her legs and began fondling her br**sts again.

She screamed in frustration and struggled against her bonds, but it was useless. As if she wasn’t writhing, screaming, and insulting him, Dante continued to alternate from teasing her br**sts to finger-fucking her to sinuously rubbing his c*ck between her folds. She moaned. She groaned. She whimpered. She sobbed. She cried. She threatened his livelihood. She even tried kicking the shit out of him again. After what felt like hours of sensual torture, she was practically delirious with the need to come. So delirious that she did what she’d never done before.

“Please!” Nothing. He simply continued to nibble on her shoulder while teasing her cl*t with the tip of his finger. She curled her legs around his h*ps again and groaned as she felt the head of his c*ck against her entrance. “Please f**k me!” Still no reaction. What made the whole thing so much worse was that he wouldn’t meet her eyes, wouldn’t even look at her face, wouldn’t talk to or respond to her. Like she was just any woman, like she was no one at all to him.

A mixture of enraged, hurt, horny, and restless, she completely snapped. “You don’t get to treat me like this! Like I’m just some faceless f**k! I’m not one of your one-night stands! I’m not one of your little sluts! I’m your mate!” He rammed every inch of his c*ck into her and, that easily, she fragmented. A throaty scream tore from her as flames of ecstasy lanced through her, making violent orgasmic convulsions rack her entire body.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped at the feverish hunger glowing on his face. How he hadn’t come was beyond her understanding. He really was the embodiment of self-control. Although he was meeting her gaze— finally— he still didn’t speak to her. She realized then what he’d been doing. Realized what he wanted. She didn’t want to give it to him, she really didn’t, but she couldn’t fight him, or this, either. She needed him so much in every way someone could need another person.

She had even before she knew he was her mate.

Suddenly feeling drained mentally and physically, Jaime sagged and her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. She cried and cried, hating how weak and helpless she was. When she felt him kiss her hair, she returned her gaze to his. His expression was patient, expectant, and resolute. He wasn’t going to budge on this.

“I’m your mate.” She cried out as he rewardingly thrust once inside her. “Your mate,” she again admitted, and again he drove into her just once. She knew what he was waiting for. “And you’re mine.”

Triumph, relief, and satisfaction filled Dante. “Goddamn right. And don’t ever forget it.” Then he was gripping her ass and hammering his c*ck inside her. Taking her. Claiming her. Branding her.

Jaime thought she might black out; his pace was merciless and wild, and it felt so amazing and right that tears stung her eyes. Although the bark of the tree was biting into her skin, it only complemented the other sensations spiraling through her as every bit of the ravenous longing that had been riding her was now, finally, indulged.

“Tell me what you want, Jaime,” he ordered hoarsely. “Tell me.” The urge to claim her as his mate was pushing Dante so hard it was actually painful, but he wouldn’t do it without her consent.

Not just because it wouldn’t be fair to her, but because he needed to hear her say that she wanted it.

His stubborn mate didn’t. Abruptly he stilled, staring deep into her glazed smoky-blue eyes. Ignoring her sounds of irritation, he held her immobile and flexed his c*ck inside her, making her whimper.

“Do you want me to claim you?” he demanded.

A huge part of her was saying no, but it was drowned out by her need to have every part of him, to lay the ultimate, irrevocable claim on him. “Do it.” He withdrew until only the head of his c*ck was inside her. “Not good enough. I need to hear you say that you want it.”

A short pause. “I want it.”

Dante thrust up into her tight pu**y, wrenching a loud cry from her. Then he was again ramming into her relentlessly, determined to leave no doubt in her mind of who she belonged to and would always belong to. Growling, he brought his mouth down hard on hers. He thrust his tongue inside, meeting hers, exploring every crevice of her mouth. The kiss was greedy, deep, and urgent, and she met every demanding stroke of his tongue with equal intensity.

As he’d expected, she jumped in surprise as he let one of his fingers gently circle the bud of her ass. “Shh. I’m not going to hurt you, baby. You know that. But I am going to f**k this ass soon.

Fuck you where no one else ever has. Because it’s mine to f**k, to protect, and to blister with my hand if you ever deny I’m your mate again.”

Startling a cry from Jaime, he pushed his finger into her ass. The sting didn’t distract her from the hurt in his voice. She hadn’t meant or wanted to do that by denying him. On the contrary, she’d been trying to protect him from a very uncertain future. But still, she’d caused him pain, and she hated herself for that. “I’m sorry.”