Layleen
I swallow hard, my fingers gripping the letter opener so tightly that pain lances through my hand. Storm advances slowly, deliberately, savoring the fear radiating off me. His fangs lengthen with every breath, his shifting eyes gleaming as his wolf fights to break free.
I can feel it—if he could shift right now, he would tear me apart, devouring me whole until there was nothing left.
Then, it happens.
With a guttural growl, Storm lunges forward. His long fingers clamp around my throat, squeezing with a force that sends a sharp jolt of terror through my body. His grin is vile, predatory, and in that moment, I feel utterly insignificant beneath his looming presence.
"Drop that," he commands, his voice laced with quiet menace.
A tremor runs down my arm as my grip weakens, my fingers loosening against my will. The letter opener slips from my grasp, clattering uselessly to the floor.
"What a good little slut you are," Storm sneers.
