[THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE THEMES WHICH IS ACCEPTABLE FOR 18+ READERS ONLY]
"Yes?" His deep voice growls. It's so deep, so velvety. I can feel myself getting aroused. Aroused in ways I've never felt before.
"I was told to come and speak to you abou...
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Jackson Blake's POV
Rage. It's a powerful emotion. I'd never felt anything like it before. Sure, I'd been angry, at my mum, my dad, at the bullies in school, but I'd never felt rage. From recollection, the only time I got close to this was a few months after my mum committed suicide and when my dad called me a faggot. Even in those moments, sadness overwhelmed the anger. This was pure, blinding rage.
I'd shifted, my clothes tore to shreds and I just ran for miles. The gold swirls had danced around my white fur, my paws dug into the soft soil whilst I moved through the trees with agility and speed. It was like stress relief, to just run for miles focusing on the trees in front of me rather than the embarrassment I'd faced in front of that waitress. When I arrived at the lodge, my bones ached and my muscles burnt. It's like the moment I shifted back, that rage bubbled inside me again uncontrollably. I'd walked into the lodge, it was midnight by the time I got back, I'd done laps, ran wherever I could to avoid going back to my mate.
I'd walked through the cabin, Slater was sitting on the sofa but I didn't dare acknowledge him, I stomped up the stairs, slammed the bedroom door shut, and locked it. As I lay on the bed, his scent engulfed me and it only infuriated me more. It used to calm me and now, it made me feel like I could commit mass murder.
How could he do that? All out of jealousy? He'd humiliated me! Why did he have to do it in public? In front of a waitress? It was degrading, it was a way of forcing me to submit to him and showing her that I'm owned by him. Not his equal, not his mate, but property that no one else could touch. That's what enraged me. I submit to him with my will. I get punished because I want it. Sure he gets to chose when I get punished and when he wants me to submit to him, but I get to decide if that's what I want, not him.
I knew he could sense my rage through the house because he didn't come up the stairs. I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. Partially because of the rage that I couldn't shake off, but also because I didn't have my mate next to me. This wasn't unusual to me, I'd spent years having insomnia, my body and mind unwilling to relax in my father's house, and since I met Slater, I've never slept better. Without him here now, without his scent and his warmth, my body couldn't relax. Even with so much rage, I craved his presence next to me and that pissed me off more.
When the alarm rang at 7 AM, my mind never having slept, I got up, angrily flinging my stuff into my duffle, leaving Slater's shit for him to sort out. I wanted to burn it, tear it all into pieces, but I couldn't bring myself to be that petty, even with such pent-up anger.
When I got downstairs, he was lying on the sofa, a blanket covering him but I didn't stick around to observe him much further. I grabbed his car key, slammed open the door, and walked over to the boot.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His deep husky voice called behind me, heavy with sleep as though he'd just woken up. Oh so he could sleep absolutely fucking fine whilst I didn't get a wink? It enraged me even more, how could he sleep fine after treating me like that?
