Her Wicked Wolf by Kendra Leigh Castle Read Free Book Online Page A

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them.”
    Alistair licked his lips, and she saw a flicker of the hungry
wolf within. “Brie, try to understand. I’m warning you. That might prove to
be...”
    She leaned closer, breathing in the woodsy, slightly exotic
scent of him, and spoke with her lips only a breath away from his.
    “Combustible,” she finished for him. “Did you think I wouldn’t
figure it out?”
    His sharply handsome face flooded with understanding, regret,
and terrible need. Before he could say another word, she brushed her lips
against his, and a tremor ran through him that told her all she needed to
know.
    “Alistair. Let go, just for tonight. You know what I am, and so
do I. I’m yours.”
    He groaned, and in it she heard his surrender. His hands dug
into her hips, and then she was being lifted, carried in a rush of air. Before
she’d even had time to make a sound the plush rug was against her back, the
fireplace warm and crackling to her left. Alistair loomed over her, his
breathing harsh, hands at either side of her head. She could see the animal in
him now, in the tense way he crouched over her, in the way the light glinted off
his incisors, which seemed much sharper than before.
    It shocked her, how hot it made her.
    Alistair seemed to know, curling his lip and growling in a way
that sounded utterly inhuman. “This is what letting go looks like. Are you sure
that’s what you want?”
    In response, she lifted her hands and slid them into his hair,
gently pushing the heavy silk of it away from his face, then again, stroking.
Seeing how even that simple touch affected him had her breath stilling in her
throat. Alistair’s eyes rolled back, then shut as he groaned softly. He leaned
into her touch, urging her to continue. There was nothing explicitly sexual
about it, and yet it was one of the most sensual experiences Brie had ever
had.
    She hated to think of how long it must have been since he was
touched...though she couldn’t wish the pleasure of it on anyone but her.
    Lost in sensation, Alistair’s face cleared of worry. He still
looked somber—she doubted there were many instances when he didn’t—but his
expression was softer, seductive. When he opened his eyes again to look down at
her through impossibly long lashes, she could feel that something had shifted
between them. He’d stopped fighting, at least for now.
    She’d take it.
    “Brie,” he said. She worried, just for a moment, that he would
start to protest again. But all he did was repeat her name, more softly this
time. “Brie.”
    He lowered his head, touching his nose to hers. Her lips parted
when his breath teased them, but Alistair held back, looking in her eyes once
more. He seemed to be searching for something, though she couldn’t imagine what.
Then, before she knew what was happening, his mouth was on hers.
    It was exactly what she’d wanted, and far better than she could
have imagined. Where his earlier kisses had tugged at her heart, this kiss was
all about raw possession. Alistair’s mouth was hard on hers, his tongue sweeping
into her mouth to taste her. She felt the scrape of his teeth against her lips
as he deepened the kiss, stoking the slow-burning fire in her until she couldn’t
hold a single thought. There was only feeling.
    She dragged her nails down his back, over the soft material of
his sweater, and then slid her hands beneath to find taut muscle, heated skin.
She flattened her hands against his back, trying to pull him down to her, but he
didn’t seem inclined to obey. Instead, he pushed back onto his feet, rose and
looked down at her as he pulled the sweater off. The look on his face as he
threw it aside was deadly serious.
    “Be sure,” he said. And when she saw the scars, she understood.
They were long and white, crisscrossing his chest and torso. Some were thin,
some so wide that she knew the wounds had originally gaped open. He’d been
savaged, she saw. Even his throat bore marks that bespoke sharp teeth.
    His brother, she