Chapter 8: Hate Me Later

He did not come out of his room that night, and I stood at the door until my feet went numb.

The wooden fox was in my pocket, and I kept touching it through the cloth.

Around two in the morning, I heard him pacing.

Three steps to the window, three steps back.

The door opened.

He stood there in his jeans and nothing else, with his hair wild and his eyes red.

"Come in," he said.

"I'm on duty."

"Come in anyway."

I went in, and he shut the door behind me and leaned on it.

He looked ten years older than he had that morning.

"I can't stop seeing that shoe," he said.

"Good."

He flinched, and then he nodded.

"Do you regret it?" I asked.

I had not meant to ask.

The words came out of me.

He looked at the floor for a long time.

"I regret the children," he said. "I regret every one of them."

"And the rest?"

"I don't know yet," he said. "My father is still in the ground. I'm not going to lie to you, Lena. I haven't worked out how to carry both."

It was the truest thing he had said, and it made me want to hit him.

It also made me want to touch him, and that scared me worse.

"Then stop talking," I said.

He lifted his head.

I crossed the room in three steps, took him by the belt, and walked him backward until his shoulders hit the wall.

His breath left him in a rush.

I put my mouth on his throat and bit.

Not hard enough to break skin.

He shuddered all the way down his body.

"I'm angry," I said into his neck. "I'm so angry I can't breathe."

"Then use it," he said, rough. "Use me."

I undid his jeans and pushed them down, and his cock fell into my hand, already hard.

Keep reading free with an account. Start My Alpha's Betrayal: Burning in the Flames of His Vengeance from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.