Isis: The E6 Breeder (Lycan Breeder Series Book No. 2)

Scene 35

A pungent smell, not all unpleasant, invaded Rebecca's senses. It was like a wool blanket enclosing around her, clinging to all the surfaces not already in contact with the male holding her. She was overwhelmed and a tightness started to take hold of her chest.

Twenty, one, nineteen, two, eighteen, three... deep breaths... her mind quickly started a counting exercise. She had trained herself to play a numbers game when panic threatened to start guiding her actions.

Let it overwhelm you. You'll navigate better within the feeling rather than fighting the feeling.

Seventeen, four, sixteen, five...

As her eyes adjusted from the daylight to the darkened cabin, she struggled to interpret the heavily breathing male who had carried her inside. Emanuel's combination of emotions was almost unreadable, given that she was looking for his real ones and not the bravado he projected to the clan.

"I don't trust them to stay away," Emanuel gritted out while carrying her up a set of ladder steps that lifted them to his sleeping area. "If they come in, keep your eyes low and cower close to the wall."

He placed her on the foot of his bed and then dragged a thick chain from a pile on the floor to her. The links ran from her wrists to a u-bolt secured to an exposed stud. This is exactly how Madison described the anchor that all dens in the clan had. The fox had spent much of her time attached to that feature.

His dark eyes scanned her exposed skin, pausing on the bruises that littered her arms and legs. When they rested on the large one still swollen and changing color on her cheek, his intensity grew. Was he protective or excited?

She slammed her eyes closed, willing the number game to continue. His footsteps thundered down the ladder and across the floor below. A door closed, but not the front door. He was still inside the cabin.

She had been surrounded by his clan from the moment they exited the vehicle and their attention was disturbing to say the least. Everywhere she looked she had seen aggression, lust, desire. An unexpected hand on her had caused her to scream in true terror. By the time someone offered to buy her seclusion from Emanuel, she was beyond being able to use her voice.

It was temporary, and she will learn from this experience. If she was on her feet, if she could run or do anything to control the situation, it would have been better. As it was, she was expected to just allow things to happen to her.

Fifteen, six, fourteen, seven...

Emanuel was doing well. He was committed to the role, and it was a role, right? Derek had to be thinking the same thing. What if they were wrong? What if they had just thrown themselves at a clan known for selling shifters?

His furnishings were sparse. The dark blue duvet under her and a couple of pillows seemed to be the extent of his decorations. His dresser was bare on top, his closet doors were shut. The smell she experienced when they first entered was enhanced up here. There was a musk hanging in the air, intertwined with earthy spices.

A few more minutes passed before the door below opened and Emanuel's large body was making his way up towards the loft, a cup in hand. He moved with familiarity of the layout and the grace of a predator. His full height was standing in front of her while she sat there, making her feel even smaller.

"I am going to leave the silver on you as much as possible. I do not want to replace your bruises because of your advanced healing."

A mild bleach smell reached her and his fingers dipped into the plastic cup in his hand.

"I need to put some in your mouth. They will notice if it isn't."

Rebecca dropped her lower jaw and tilted back, giving him access. That dark expression returned and he moved close, knocking the inside of her knees and pushing them wide to accommodate his position. Maintaining his eye contact, he pulled his fingers out, now slathered in milky white goo.