Mark of the Wolf by T. L. Shreffler Page A

dissipated. Poof.
Gone. He was staring at her scars, marks that she had never shown
anyone before, and that he sure as hell had never seen. Abruptly he
was pushing her forward, laying her down on her stomach. She
couldn't refuse. She was stretched along the couch and he hovered
behind her, his large hand stretched across her back. It traveled
up the skin, feeling every bump and ridge. His other hand rested on
her hip, firmly holding her in place.
    “ What are these?” he asked quietly,
though she felt like he already knew the answer.
    She lied anyway. “It was an accident,” she
said, stumbling on the words. She had never told anyone before
about her stepfather’s “treatments,” and the words were just as
hard to say now as they had been before. She couldn’t expose her
past; not like this, not when she felt so vulnerable. It was
humiliating. Each scar was a sign of her own weakness, her own
defeat.
    “ Don’t bullshit me,” he growled, his
voice low and feral, dangerous. He grabbed her and swung her over,
laying her on her back, maneuvering her easily with his large
hands. Then he pulled her towards him and yanked the front of her
shirt up. Maddy let out a cry of outrage and tried to pull her
shirt down, but he was forcing it up to her neck, ripping the
cloth, his eyes inspecting her stomach and traveling over her skin.
She was relieved that she still wore her bra.
    His fingers moved over her, this time pausing
at every knick and imperfection. There weren't as many scars on her
stomach, but several crescent marks and bumps where he had pinched
her, where his fingernails had bit into her skin. They were small
and unnoticeable in comparison to the marks on her back — but still
present.
    She glanced at Gareth and the expression on
his face terrified her.
    His eyes met hers, and she couldn’t
breathe.
    “ Are you going to tell me what this is
about,” he snarled, his fangs bared, “or do I have to strip the
rest of you?”
    The words left her weak and shaking. She
trembled where his hands were splayed against her stomach, his
thumb feathering over her skin. Her nipples were hard, pushing
against the soft fabric of her bra, and she knew the little peaks
were clearly visible. His eyes darted down to them; he didn't try
to hide the look. The tension in the room was enough to make her
sweat.
    She turned her head away and closed her eyes.
“It’s nothing,” she muttered.
    He began to growl. “Maddy….” His hands
traveled low to the waistband of her pants, and he deftly flicked
open the top button.
    “ I don’t want to talk about it!” she
said desperately, and twisted, trying to wiggle away. He let her
slide out from under him for a few inches, then he grabbed her
firmly by the waist and pulled her right back, holding her between
his thighs, forcing her closer. Her legs were tangled with his, and
their crotches close to touching – he leaned over her, looking down
at her body.
    “ Don’t test me, babe,” he said, his
voice dark. “Tell me, or I’ll do something you may regret later.”
And he leaned his head down, gently licking the indent of her hips,
right along the edge of her pants. She let out a small gasp of
surprise and then whimpered, unable to control the
sound.
    She closed her eyes. ‘Something she might
regret later’ he had said. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine regretting
it, but at the same time his wildness scared her.
    He worked at the zipper of her pants, pulling
them slowly down. She swallowed. Turned her face away towards the
couch, trying to curl her body up and away from him. His hands held
her gently but firmly.
    “ It’s nothing… just my stepfather,”
she said quietly, talking into her hands rather than to his face.
She couldn’t bear to look. “He… he’s not… he hits me sometimes,
okay? When he gets drunk and stuff. He’ll get angry, and you know,
I’m the only one around.” Suddenly she felt tears spring to her
eyes, and she let out a choked laugh, a small and