Chapter 4 The Coronation

• The scent of woodsmoke and sweat clung to the air, thick like a second skin, stifling in its weight. The clearing was ringed with towering pines, their jagged limbs twisting against the bruised sky, casting long shadows across the circle of wolves gathered around the roaring fire. Darkfang Pack. They were watching, their eyes reflecting the flames like predators waiting to feast. The heat from the fire made the air shimmer, warping the scene into something surreal, primal.
• At the center of it all, I knelt, my knees pressed into the rough dirt, the cold bite of the earth grounding me in a way that nothing else could. My arm was bound tightly behind my back, the rope digging into my skin with each subtle movement, a reminder of how little control I had in this moment. Paxton’s body was a solid wall of muscle behind me, his hand gripping the back of my neck, keeping me in place as if I’d dare to move. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Not when every eye in the pack was on us—on me.
• His cock slid inside me, rough and unyielding. His other hand moved with deliberate slowness, sliding up the curve of my hip, his fingers grazing my skin with a possessive familiarity. The rough texture of his palm left a trail of heat in its wake. My breath hitched, but I bit down hard, refusing to let the sound escape. Not in front of them. Not here.