Bound to the Bears (Born of Blood) by Helena Novak

Author:Helena Novak [Novak, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-12T16:00:00+00:00

Orsa

Madness coils around me like poison ivy, wrapping around my neck and strangling all living sense out of my body. D’Andres hands call out like a siren, while Ivy stares down at me, her opal eyes glowing with possessive disappointment.

The bruise between my legs tingles, the ghost of her touch soaking my core all over again. Like she’s here. Touching me still.

D’Andres hands are far rougher, his thick fingers wrapping around the nylon and ripping it off my body. It snaps against my center and I squeak, clenching my thighs together, only for him to strong arm them back open and fit his wide hips between them.

“The girls,” I protest, trying to keep the tremors out of my voice. Whether it’s unbridled fear or lust, it doesn’t matter either way to him. I’m not sure it matters to me, either. The lines are so blurred, I can barely tell the difference anymore.

D’Andres dares a glance over his shoulder. Ursula is oblivious to our behavior, instead chattering away with her little mercreature friend, telling them all about her little sister and how she believes babies come to be.

“Keep that whore mouth shut,” D’Andres says, “and they’ll never notice.”

Heat curls in my stomach, but acidic, frozen rage tickles the edges of my consciousness. I open my mouth, not sure what I expected to come out, when his crashes down and claims it, his tongue dominating the kiss and calling a moan from my throat. He pulls me off the glass panel and ushers me around the planter, tripping me up and knocking my feet out from under me. He steps over me, unbuckling his belt and pulling it from the loops, letting it hang between us and tickle my ankle.

“How’s your memory coming along?” he growls, the smirk on his face like violence and melted sin.

I spit at his feet, defiant ’til the day I die. “Not ringing a single bell. Just like last time.”

He narrows his eyes at me, glancing back at my daughters—my girls, my babies, never his—before he comes down over me. I lash out to claw at his face, and he catches my hands, batting them away.

Close up, I see the wrinkle on his jaw, the dry, frostbitten patch of skin peppering his cheek. He jerked away from the cold touch under the water and covered his face. Maybe that’s why.

“Nice scar,” I mock him.

He folds his belt over, raising a brow at me. He holds my eyes as he claps the bent leather to my breast, growling deep in his chest when I gasp and recoil from the touch. “You’re much prettier when you’re quiet.”

He forces the folded belt between my teeth, latching it at my ear and banging my head off the ground. His weight bears down on me and I squirm and struggle, until his hand tangles in my hair and yanks my head back at a painful angle.

“Behave yourself,” he growls against my neck, his hot, rough tongue moving down my chest and circling my nipples.

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