What was it about a woman wearing a man’s shirt the simpler gender found irresistible? It fit too large, swallowing her  shoulders and hanging down to her mid-thigh. She’d left the first four buttons undone, the peek-a-boo of full breasts daring her property to enjoy. Her legs glistened, emanating the scent of shea butter long-since soaked into her caramel skin. It was difficult to read the emotion behind her eyes, devoid of cosmetics. They narrowed on him, the corner of her mouth twisting upward into a smirk. 

It astounded her that her stillness was enough camouflage to hide her presence. Even without access to his supernatural gamut of powers, Soraya expected him to acknowledge her before he climbed into bed, but the towel he used to dry his hair had obstructed his vision to her advantage. Infiltrating his personal space had taken little effort. Several phone calls and an expedited mover, and Soraya called the Penthouse her own.

They stared at one another. Moments ticked by, espresso meeting the cool blue of his eyes. Bronze swirled through his gaze, making his wolf’s presence known even if not fully understood. The shade was truly majestic, and she was loathe to ruin the unique coloration. Soraya did not look away when she reached for the buttons of the requisitioned shirt. One button. Two. All the way down until the shirt fell open. Exposing her skin instigated a war in his eyes, swirling the blue until the hue lost itself in metallic green. A distinct lack of humanity peered back at her. Malcolm Book, a man trapped within his own bestial needs. Needs easy to exploit.

Her gaze flicked downward, watching his cock swell. Such a perfect specimen. The shaft pulsed with life, but it was the man’s obvious apprehension to truly draw her intrigue.

His dark passenger roared into his mind, and Malcolm froze. Every ounce of energy went into the mental grapple, fighting down the beast and its baser demands. Outwardly, his muscles hardened, every distinct line more cut in the dim light. She was displaying herself for him, revealing every lush curve that he wanted to explore. It took a full thirty seconds before a victor prevailed in the battle.

The wolf looked out, a predator taking in its prey. The female revealed herself to him. Offering herself as a suitable mate. The reason of the man clawed at his intent. Fighting for control. Distracting. He reached for her. 

Sheer panic empowered Malcolm to gain the upper hand.

He blinked, his heart in a thunderous gallop at the thought of losing his control again. Despite the quelling of his dark passenger, that primal instinct remained prominent in his thoughts; a stark desire to own, possess, conquer threatened to overwhelm his sensibilities. It invaded his mind as effectively as his beast had possessed his body in his office. The need to feel her, taste her and make her moan his name. He sucked in a sharp breath, followed by a low groan at his inner turmoil of logic versus impulse. Man versus animal.

A burning flush colored his neck, ashamed he’d even thought of it. And yet, her dark gaze held no judgement or disapproval. Uncertainty softened his visage, doubt at himself, the burn on his skin becoming more sensual and less self-conscious. Malcolm clenched his teeth, battling the carnal want even as he continued his wolf’s need to reach for her. Mere centimeters remained between them before he managed to stop himself.

Victory.

He scowled, and with a deep breath, turned to get out of the bed. His jaw flexed as he settled his lips into a grim line, determined to simply get away from the seductress. There were far greater things at stake than anything so trivial as what he may or may not want, regardless of how willing she was.

The shrill magical thrum made every hair stand on end. He froze to the spot through no choice of his own. Malcolm’s heart jumped as cold tendrils of disquiet prickled at him.

He couldn’t move.

He could feel; collate data and take in what was happening to him.

But moving anything besides his eyes proved impossible.

A dread that he had not felt in over a decade washed over him in a deluge.

It was happening again.

Her hand was warm on his shoulder as she firmly pushed him back against the headboard. The others were rough, wrists burning with silver.

No wait, he wasn’t there.

He was here.

His skin tingled where she touched him. This was more pleasant.

Was it? Should it be?

A soft grunt when he felt her hand on his chest.

He was exposed. Completely vulnerable to anything she wanted to do to him. Like before. There was a place he could go, where he wouldn’t have to face what was happening to him. He just needed to find it again, hide from the pain until it all passed. Until it was all over. Just like Then.

Senseless terror made the world shrink, and Malcolm pulled back from maintaining some modicum of control at a sprint. This was an acceptable time to retreat. When it was easier to hide than confront.

The hue of a clear sky disappeared entirely as the man retreated within. His dark passenger leapt to the forefront, only to find himself unable to do anything.

Muscles flexed uselessly in an attempt to dominate the willing female in front of him. Barely contained violence seethed from him at the injustice of his predicament. The collar flashed red, indicating Beast mode, and in the same moment, revealed his minimal ability to growl while in Stasis.

She set the remote beside her, well out of reach. The poor fool thought he could best her technology. It was ludicrous, as surely nothing could bypass the collar’s newest upgrade. 

Malcolm’s ire rumbled as a vibration felt beneath her fingers as they splayed across his chest. The touch remained gentle, but not kind, the tips making a slow and exploratory journey across his immobilized pectorals. Her nails scraped a slow circle around each taut nipple, intent on forcing sensation upon him with no option but to react. She knew he disliked her. The stark vehemence of his words had been genuine. All the sweeter it would be to use him as she wanted, when she wanted. Oh, the man’s mind would churn, and she assumed the levels of Malcolm’s hatred would surge. Still, Soraya pushed forward with her diabolical plan. A plan most women would stop and consider for a long moment before committing.. 

“You know, you are a beautiful man. Stunning, really. But you are stubborn, and proud. It does not change that you are mine, and if I want you as my… body slave, as you put it, I will have you.”

Between forefinger and thumb, she pinched the firm flesh and rolled it from side to side. She knew men often forgot about this erogenous zone, assuming it was something only women enjoyed. Her slow manipulation made his breath audible, and she moved on with a short and derisive laugh. He was like a toy—press here, a reaction there. Soraya’s touch migrated south, but she never lost the connection with the wolf behind his eyes. Her smirk returned.

Soraya parted her lips, spittle dribbling down onto the thick head of his cock. Her fingers followed, wrapping around the turgid length to smear the wetness downward. A second stream of spit followed, and she slickened him until he glistened from base to tip. Her appreciation of his physique colored her cheeks with a dapple of pink, and she ached to replace her hand with her lips, to feel him throb as he sank into the tighter recesses of her throat. 

She teased herself no further, and inch after perfect inch, the cock found a home in her warm mouth, where she took her time exploring him. Lips tightened, cheeks concave as she suckled. She teased along the underside with a butterfly of her tongue. Every time she felt his body strain against the immobilization, against the Stasis mode, her heart jumped. The surge of adrenaline spurred her onward. Soraya had always enjoyed the carnal act, and nudging Malcolm toward unwanted release was equal parts exhilarating and empowering.

The next downward thrust sent the impressive length past the back of her throat. A meager inch, but how delicious it felt stretching the hole wide. The tighter column squeezed, milking him with each move of her head. Soraya could not breathe, but felt no burning desire for oxygen—yet. She pressed further, tiny bobs of her head offering a wicked pleasure few knew how to inflict.

All the while, her bare sex dripped, a heady arousal scenting the air around the static werewolf and the seductress who conquered his bed.