Wolf.e: A Dark MC Romance
Wolf.e: Chapter 23

“I’m going to get an infection from that knife,” I say as wooden stairs creak under our feet while we climb them.

Gabriel unlocks the door to his private cabin and ushers me in. I realize I prefer his first name, the only reason why that I can fathom is because it somehow makes him more human than his last.

“I just finished gutting a man with it. It was completely sterile. Sanitized. Twice. Hospital clean.” He leans in and the scent of him overwhelms me again. It doesn’t even seem like the endeavor in the woods caused him to break a sweat. “And I wouldn’t put his blood anywhere near you,” he says gruffly.

“But yours is okay?” I ask, kicking my muddy wedge heels off. I’m lucky I didn’t break an ankle trying to run in those.

“My blood is clean,” he says, stalking toward me after he turns on a light. Gabriel stands over me looking down into my eyes. He grazes a knuckle over my pulse like he measures the beats. “And I’ll put it anywhere I please. In you, on you, mixed with your own. If I want you to drink it, you will. You owe your life to me. You should be saying thank you.”

Rage fills me and I fight with everything in me not to cry. I force myself not to give him the satisfaction of my fear.

“Thank you,” I say evenly.

“Time to clean up.” he says, moving to usher me toward the only bathroom. I have nothing with me. Even my phone and purse are in the reception hall on the table.

“I need to go to my room and get my things,” I tell him “I have nothing.”

Gabriel pulls out his phone and starts to text. He finishes and puts it in his pocket.

“You’ll stay with me. It’s not safe for you to be alone until I explain our arrangement.”

I.e., his club might try to kill me for seeing what I saw.

“Undress,” he says as he turns the shower on, placing his hand under the water to feel the temperature. “Your personal things are on the way.”

“My room number is—” The look he gives me tells me he already knows.

“Your things are on the way,” Gabriel reiterates, leaving me no room to protest. “It’ll work out a lot better for both of us if you stop second guessing everything I say. Then I won’t need to fucking repeat myself,” he adds.

His phone rings and he looks down before stepping through the bathroom door to answer it. I take the opportunity to close it behind him and lean back against it, already knowing better than to lock it. If he wants to come in here, the flimsy handle lock wouldn’t stop him anyway, so what’s the point?

I take the time while he’s gone to use the toilet, praying his knife was as clean as he promised. I’m tender and swollen and wishing for the solace hot water will offer. I grab fresh towels and a washcloth from the shelf then strip my clothes away and stare at myself in the mirror. The makeup I worked so carefully to apply hours ago is smudged, the remnants of my mascara is dark beneath my eyes and tracks down my still flushed cheeks in washed out black lines where it had mixed with my tears. My hair that I had curled and pinned up is in disarray and hangs down my back in waves, tiny sticks and brambles caught up in the knotted mess. There’s mud streaked across my skin and what looks like the start of bruising around my neck from him holding me against the tree. I turn and see the scratches that line my shoulder blades. They aren’t deep but…I am a marked woman.

The deep timbre of Wolfe’s voice echoes through the hollow door as he speaks to someone on the phone.

“You do what I say now, you stay alive,” he had said and meant it.

All I have is my sovereignty.

And not the sovereignty of my body because that clearly belongs to him.

All I have is my choice.

I can choose to be either an open or a closed book when it suits me. I can choose not to indulge in his world until I understand it better.

I can choose to forgive myself for wanting him. I only owe myself.

There’s also the possibility that he’ll grow tired of me and let me go quietly. It’s small, but at this point, he hasn’t even tried to claim me with his cock, which goes against everything the people around him say about what kind of man he is.

It tells me that maybe I’m just as out of the ordinary for him as he is for me. That light to his dark.

The mirror begins to fog, pulling me from my thoughts and reminding me to step into the steamy shower, just as Gabriel re-enters the bathroom.

He leans back against the sink and stares as I let the water fall like rain over my skin, the heat soothing my aching muscles that are still coming down from the adrenaline. I almost fold my hands in front of me, partially out of habit and partially to stop his stare but instead I push back against my fears.

I lift my arms and face him, tilting my head slightly and skimming my hands back over my hair, staring right at him while I’m naked and on display.

“Must you sit there while I shower?” I ask as I rinse hotel-smelling shampoo from my hair. He’s already seen all of me. It shouldn’t really bother me that he’s watching the water run down my naked body, but still, I have to ask.

“Yes,” Gabriel answers simply, settling in.

My choices. My thoughts.

I will choose how to be his captive. I won’t give him the fear he seems to crave unless I want to. I’ve seen everything he’s capable of now, so as odd as it sounds, I have nothing left to fear.

“Suit yourself,” I deadpan with a shrug, placing a hefty dollop of conditioner in my palm.

I don’t miss his smirk as I work to wash away all the sin from this night. He settles in and folds his arms over his chest.

I’m vulnerable before him, yet the way he looks at me—how his normally light eyes turn dark and trace my body, absorbing my every move—only makes me feel powerful.

More powerful than I’ve ever felt.