It was atypical for Malcolm to have nothing to say. So unusual, that if she’d known him, she would have realised something was deeply, deeply wrong. The moment she approached, a battle for the control of his body began in earnest between the man and the beast. The beast snarled, raging against Malcolm’s reason. Every ounce of his willpower was waging a war she couldn’t possibly know. Muscle memory moved his hands in a near mechanical manner, slowly taking off his vest, his mind racing. The collar was on Normal, and he watched the hand by her mouth very closely, focused on the remote.

The savory sweet of her aroma surrounded him, the musky arousal heating his blood and driving his wolf into a frenzy. Her mouth was plush, lips begging to be conquered, and his fingers slowed on the buttons of his shirt, a forbidden fantasy of how she may taste tightening his loins.

He could snatch the remote before she could activate any of the buttons. Her fingers were lax, distracted as she was.

The desk moved half an inch when he slammed her into it, the remote skittering to a stop against the phone. There was no concern of consequences as he held her there, her wrists captive in a vise-like grip in one hand, the other clamped over her mouth. This put them in an unfortunate position where she would feel the stirrings of his desire against her thigh, but he didn't care. He tried not to think about how good she felt, or the fact that she arched against him. The fire of her own indignation matched his, burning bright in her gaze above his hand; he wished she would stop squirming so wonderfully against him.

"I am not a body slave for your desires. I am a doctor and a scientist who has far more worth in a lab than in your bed. Furthermore, I'll have you know— " His words stopped suddenly, brow furrowing in a look of confusion, a struggle apparent in the lines of his face. “—know—” the rest of the sentence eluded him, and his brow climbed in shock. Then panic, and the word was a new sentence. “No…”

A fierce snarl twisted his face, and a shudder roiled down his frame, the hand around her wrist flexing once, tight enough to bruise. Nary a hint of blue could be found as the wolf looked out. For the first time in memory, Malcolm watched helplessly as his body acted without his permission.

A red light flashed under his chin. The predator looked down between them, head tilting.

The female stopped struggling. Submission. He released his hold, gripping the nuisance at his neck. It stung. Annoying.

She dared move her hand. Testing his awareness. Teeth clacked together an inch from her jaw in a snap of warning. A growl vibrated the air, threatening consequence. 

Once she was still, he reached for the metal, yanking apart the bothersome ring.

A soft thunk. The wolf leaned over her, dull tips of his fingers clawing at her throat. The odd fur ripped, making a curious sound.

Pause. Verdant bronze searching her face for pain. Discomfort. No, there was only curiosity, defiance, and a hint of fear. Another pull, exposing the junction of her neck and shoulder. Eyes lifted to hers, lowering himself until his lips found that delectable curve.

Nostrils flared with an inhale. A nuzzle over her pounding pulse. A push of his hips, her legs parting further.

 Her scent was intoxicating. Desire, primal and deep, pooled in his loins. Another nudge. His approval. His interest.

It was an ancient ritual, the kind built right into the DNA of a species. Why wolves hunted in packs, mated for life, and… how they found that mate.

The female was submissive, accepting his pursuit. A soft whimper brought out a low rumble of pleasure. He nuzzled the valley of her breasts, expressing his approval. The rough of the odd fur was irritating against his fingers.

He wanted to touch her, not this second skin. Frustration nearly caused more damage until he found the end. Just at the top of her thighs. Desire pulled at him. Resist. Claim, do not take. Not yet. Claim first.

The black covering ripped as he pushed upward. The harsh sound caused another stutter of hesitation. She watched him, the fear gone. Lust. Need.

Back to her womb. Thighs apart, begging for his blessing. Water flooded his mouth. Her hands settled on her chest, and he kneeled. His surrender to her. A nip at her thigh. A soft mewl. Further up. Another nibble. The other leg. An even softer sound.

Her folds were plump. Filled with her nectar of need. Hot with desire. Demanding his worship. Another slow inhale. Cheek against her thigh. Breath caressing her.

A siren song, a moan, encouraging him to act. He closed the distance to her dripping sex. The pillow of her lips held the sweetest of flavors.

He suckled. Tasted. Nibbled. Exploring every fold. Following every indication of her hips. A pull from him. Hands wrapped around her upper thighs. Pinned and spread wide. No escape. Not until his claim. She would be his. No one else’s.

A light spasm. She was close to the edge. A tight jerk against his hold. He growled. The vibration sent her over. A fang grew, an incisor. She attempted to twist away. He grinned. A perfect moment. He bit down, piercing the engorged mound of her bliss.

Blood filled his mouth as her scream pierced the air. A bone deep shudder. The primal sound, guttural and low, a call of her total submission. The most saccharine of femininity flooded his mouth. Mixing with the tang of her blood. A swirl of his tongue. He drank deeply. The juices trickling down his chin as she danced beneath him again. Another peak.

A loud crash to his left, and his hackles rose.

Danger.

Scowl. On his feet. Shield his woman from the threat. She was weak in this moment. He needed to protect. Kill.

There were five of them. Not wolves. Weak. Easy to—

Pain!

FURY!

Darkness.

Cobra lowered the tranquilizer gun, then immediately called for a healer Evo. He nodded to Murphy, who’d gotten Malcolm in the stomach. Good man, he would heal from that, though they needed to dig out the silver immediately. A quick assessment. Ms. Santiago appeared to be in shock, convulsing on the table, incoherent. The four of his men dragged Malcolm from the room, and he turned to his boss. His eyes narrowed as he took in the broken collar, bending down to pick it up as two people in lab coats rushed around him. An uptick of his brow. No wolf should be able to do that. They had the strength in Beast mode, but not the intelligence.

He left the doctors to do what they were trained to do, and he followed Malcolm Book, to do what he was trained to do. Break shifters.