Book completed✓
Kyle, compassionate human being tragically made beast by the one he loved most, betrayal it was. Resentment he felt, ashamed and disappointed of not being one to die rather than live the Werewolf disease.
Years later, anguish of yea...
Jordan's arms wobbled, aching in pain as she grunted and lifted herself once more to chin level with the bars. She lowered back down, jumping off, exhausted.
Still, she felt the tingly sensations of her arms, her hand trembled, vibrated really. Her body had been begging for mercy for the past hour and yet she continued to push herself. Determined to gain her strength.
Grabbing her bottle of water, she wiped the work sweat off her forehead, taking a sip. Walking into the room Kyle was placed in, felt like a normal routine. As if she were taking care of him for some medical condition, unfortunately it was more supernatural than any and this time it actually depended on him for his condition to change.
Her lips placed over his briefly and she smiled. She hadn't let his lack of awakening affect her as much as before. It was up to him, and she saw no matter how much she cried, begged or even attempted to convince him; he was adamant on staying this way.
"I'll be right back," She whispered.
Internally, Kyle had groaned.
He wanted to reach out to her, stop her, hold her and make her quit her nonsense. He felt her physical pain. She shouldn't have to feel pain, but she did. She was keen on preparing for a battle she would not fight in. It wasn't as if he could stop her even though he wanted to.
He craved to cuff her body to the bed in order to thwart her determined goal to fight for him. However, cuffing her to the bed didn't seem as bad as he imagined.
Suddenly he visioned every detail of it. He, who stood at the foot of her bed, snatching her volition proudly. He imagined the hard glare she would have given him, the loud yells and grunts she would make struggling to free herself from the restraints.
A white, transparent gown he imagined she would wear. He didn't know why, but he did not complain. The images were too enticing to back out now.
He only wanted her to not put herself in harm's way for him. For any reason and yet all he could think about were how hardened her nipples would be, protruding through her thin gown.
Her breast, perky, her breath hot, craving his touch.
He shook his head; he wasn't supposed to think of her that way.
Where was he? Right, he hadn't understood himself. Understood why he felt stubborn to stay asleep when even he knew it was much easier to wake up.
He knew if he were to awake now, later in the future, danger would knock on his door once more. A never-ending cycle.
Then again, he also knew it was because of the anger he would have to face. Her wrath. Her mounts of questions that he hadn't wanted to answer.
What if she didn't welcome him with anger though? Then his imagination went wild once more. Her voice, timbre, his ears perking at the sound of his name from her lips. Her tone filled with need, need for him and his body.
His lips.
He would hover her and raise her gown inch by inch, tantalizing the very delicate skin he exposed. She would wither under him, perfect in his eyes.
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