Chapter 45: Wolf.e: Chapter 44

“Fuck you!” I spit out obscenities I wouldn’t even have been comfortable with two months ago but now the sound of my voice echoes through the space.

All my clothing sticks to me with sweat. We’re on hour two of this little routine we’ve got going. We’ve been at it every day and I’m about to go crazy. Always an hour at the shooting range, then hours in the gym. I’ve learned over the last few weeks that every plane of Gabriel’s body is an integral part of the weapon he is. He’s all rippling muscle, hard lines and simmering just below the surface is all his power and rage. It never ceases to both piss me off and turn me the fuck on to watch him hardly break a sweat in training with me.

“I can’t do it… you’re too goddamn heavy,” I bite out. “And we’re both already bleeding.”

He could go on like this for weeks and I’m panting after the first forty-five minutes. At least this last week I’ve made it forty-five before panting, so I guess that’s progress.

“Yes, you can, just get fucking angrier.” Gabriel chuckles as I struggle to get out of his hold. I’m pinned below him; we’ve been working on this particular move for days. My lip is still bleeding from ten minutes ago when I tried to push him off of me from my stomach and he forced me back down. My teeth met the nice plush middle of my bottom lip, which in turn made me claw at his neck deep enough to draw blood.

“You’re never more alive than when you’re bleeding,” Gabriel grunts as he holds me, trading between looking like he’s either going to tighten his hold on me or kiss me, or both.

“If I gave up when I saw my blood in that cave I wouldn’t be here. Every drop I bled meant I was still living.”

I stare up at him as a new piece of his sadistic mind is revealed to me.

Gabriel leans down even closer, that cruel light in his eye glints as he holds me. “And I like the look of my blood on you, hummingbird,” he says, his voice low and even. “It’s when I feel the most alive. Now, secure your position and fucking fight me!”

I do my best to remember the steps while his forearm is currently cutting off my air supply.

“Come on!” he snarls. “Knee to my stomach, foot on my hip.”

I try, but he weighs so much.

“Shit,” I grit out but I somehow manage to find the will, simultaneously lifting and twisting his weight with my foot and my knee, using it against him.

“Attagirl,” he growls as I pull my hand away while pushing up with my leg to escape his hold entirely. I fall onto my back on the mat, my arms in an outstretched U.

I feel like I might die. Every muscle in my body screams at me and I look like I’ve been run over by a truck, while he looks like he just got back from a leisurely ten-minute walk. I let my eyes rake over him, sweat glistening slightly on his chest. As frustrating as he is, that is a really nice half naked body to stare at while I die.

“Stop eye fucking your attacker.” Gabriel smirks as he throws his t-shirt on over his head and makes his way past me, heading for the stairs.

I breathe out a sigh, surprised we’re done for the day, but at the same time? Thank fucking God.

“I want to come with you to the Glen Eden rally this weekend. Layla is going, there are vendors and so many people. I need people. It’s one day,” I plead, taking a seat at his kitchen island. I’m showered and feeling slightly more human after that workout, while he makes us a version of the same meal I’ve eaten every day for the last four weeks. Some form of protein, quinoa or jasmine rice, and veggies. I’m not going to lie and say the effects on my body haven’t been startling. In just under a month I’m more sculpted, I’ve grown physically stronger, I’m lifting much heavier weights and I’m faster. Physically, I’ve never been healthier.

Mentally, I’m going insane.

Gabriel eyes me up, still shirtless, as he stirs chicken with some sort of homemade marinade, in a cast iron pan. As it simmers, my stomach growls but it’s not the food that makes my mouth water. It’s the sight of him.

There hasn’t been a single day he hasn’t been inside me every night before we spend hours lying in bed and talking. It’s mostly him asking me questions about every single part of my life—what my favorite foods are, my other childhood friends, who has ever been mean to me.

He’s making a list, says he’ll save it for a rainy day when he feels like hunting. But through all of it, I have been able to get to know him a little better. Or as well as Gabriel allows anyone to know him. I know what makes him tick, like his morning runs, the passion he has for his work in creating beautiful bikes people fall in love with, how he never embellishes a story. He says it exactly like it is. The way when he tells me when he’ll be home, he is—on time, every single time. He’s also been honest with me whenever I’ve asked him a direct question. I realized it wasn’t because he was keeping things from me, but because he’s simply not used to having someone ask. Gabriel openly tells me whatever I’d like to know, except that he’s tracking my car, but that’s okay because I’m tracking him too.

When he was in the shower, I lifted up the thick insole in his boot and slipped the little AirTag in, super gluing it back down. At first, I felt bad for doing it without his knowledge but then I realized that’s just my conscience, and if Gabriel himself has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t always have to listen to it if it’s for the right reason. I’ve never even checked it, but I feel like if he’s going to know where I am, I can know where he is. It’s like I’m letting him track me by choice.

I breathe out a sigh. After that intense workout I’m sore, I’m exhausted yet keyed up, and I’m ready to lose my mind if he doesn’t let me out of here for something other than work.

“It’s not safe,” Gabriel says without looking up from cooking.

“I’m not Rapunzel,” I retort, bracing myself for an argument with him. “If I’m going to go anywhere, it’s the safest place I could go. Layla told me nothing but good things ever happen at these rallies. She said it’s an unspoken rule to keep the peace at them. There will be hundreds of people there, you said it yourself… and I’d be with you, plus”—I raise an eyebrow—“you could always give me my own gun if you’re that worried about it.”

Gabriel chuckles that deep laugh that I love. “Take it easy G.I Jane, hitting a few targets—”

“Seven out of ten, three times in a row yesterday,” I remind him, smiling smugly.

“Seven out of ten,” he repeats. “Doesn’t make you an expert. You’ve never fired at anything real.”

I sit back in the chair, looking down at my braised knuckles, swollen from hitting his heavy bag with him. This isn’t going the way I hoped.

“So what? I need to hunt an animal or something before I can have my own gun?” I ask, my voice rising at the end. That doesn’t sound like something I could do, but maybe that’s his point.

Gabriel pours me half a glass of straight tequila; this isn’t something I’d ever drink so I look up at him in question.

“For your muscles.” He smirks. “And you won’t be hunting a wild animal but… something like that.”

“I want to go to the rally,” I say firmly, lifting my chin.

Gabriel is neither fazed nor amused by my persistence, it’s like something more is weighing on his mind. I remind myself it’s probably how he’s planning to execute the Disciples of Sin president and take over their club. The idea of what’s in front of him settles deep within me as he fills our plates, working carefully.

I was right, chicken layered with brightly colored peppers, and quinoa. He looks like some sort of ominous Food Network chef as he licks his thumb and swipes sauce off the side of his own plate, keeping it as neat as mine. I’m absolutely starving after a grueling day of work and training.

The office at Crimson Homes is busy with two clients going simultaneously, both at different build stages. The air isn’t easy going anymore but it is still relaxed. Dell doesn’t push me and he’s friendly enough, but I feel the looks he gives me every time he glances out the office window and sees a prospect waiting to escort me home after my shift. I know he wonders what the hell I’m wrapped up in, the same way I worried about Layla when I got here. But the discernment and silent judgement irritates me more often than not. He doesn’t even know Gabriel.

I won’t be able to keep this job for long if I have HOH members hanging around the building, but so far they’re happy with my work and seem to need me.

It’s a means to an end. Gabriel won’t take a penny, nor would I offer him one anyway when I have a perfectly good home that I could live in on the other side of town. So I’m saving everything I have, holding on to a sliver of hope that I could maybe open my own interior design studio at some point when this is all over. One with local artisans’ pieces and rustic Georgian vibes.

“Eat,” Gabriel says, breaking into the silence and causing me to flinch.

I muster the energy to fight back the tears and rage at the thought of him just dismissing my request.

I push my plate aside. I know I’m acting childish, using my rejection of this beautiful meal he’s made, but I need him to listen. I need his attention. Hole a woman up in a house for almost a month and see how childish she can become.

“I’m not hungry, thank you,” I say politely, shrugging my shoulders.

He stands over me for a few seconds, watching. I can feel his eyes roaming over me as I check my nails as if they’re of the utmost importance. He moves to the other side of the table and sits.

“You’re acting like a little brat, Brinley, and you’ll eat what I took the time to prepare you.”

A simmering fury takes over and I raise my eyes to him. He meets them and we sit, dead locked while he waits for my response. I feel the tears in my eyes, the anger of this entire situation brimming to the surface.

“And if I tell you I am going to the rally? I have my own car. What will you do? Send me to my room? Ground me? Oh, wait”—I let out a haughty laugh—“I’m already grounded. Permanently.”

Gabriel’s fist hits the table with a thud and I jump.

“Enough,” he says as he picks up a forkful of food and eats. As threatening as he looks right now shirtless at the table, I stay as strong as I can, if for no other reason than to get my point across. He can keep me, but he can’t own me unless I let him.

Leaning back in my chair, I fold my hands in my lap and wait. My stomach growls and I hope he doesn’t hear it.

“Say you’ll take me with you and I’ll eat every bite,” I demand, trying my best to sound bold.

He pops another bite between his plush lips. I eye him as he does. Those lips might be my demise. So full and perfect looking against the square, strong angles of his jaw, he’s too gorgeous. I don’t know how I didn’t see the depth of his beauty the first time I laid eyes on him.

“You won’t get very far with blackmailing me, little hummingbird.”

“We’ll see,” I say curtly, like I would’ve before I met him.

Gabriel isn’t used to people standing up to him and that’s fine, but I want this. After being around him, I want to know more of him. More of his life. What drives him, which is why I’m so adamant about going to this rally. I need it and I won’t let him push me around on it.

Gabriel takes another bite, chewing slowly and analyzing me. The longer I wait for him to finish eating, the more nervous I get. It’s like I can feel him calculating how he’s going to handle me or punish me.

I feel his eyes on me as I start to lose confidence, fidgeting with the hem on my tank. I clear my throat and straighten up, resting my palms in my lap.

He doesn’t speak, just continues eating, watching my posture, watching my nerves build under his stare. By the time his plate is clean my hands are sweaty, not knowing what he’ll do. Gabriel’s eyes never leave mine as he takes a long drink of his own tequila.

Finally, when I’m just about to crumble under the weight of his stare he stands and makes his way over to the kitchen. He pulls a roll of heavy twine out of the drawer. My heart rate instantly starts to increase as he starts to unravel a hefty length and cuts it.

He calmly puts the roll back in the drawer and begins to stalk toward me.

“When I was young, I fought for every morsel of healthy food I could put into my body,” Gabriel says as he gets closer.

“My mother tried to prepare good meals, but it was always hard to do when my father drank, snorted or shot up every penny we had.”

I breathe in a slow shallow pant as Gabriel moves directly behind my chair, sets the twine in front of me and swipes my hair off my neck, bending down to kiss my shoulder—once, then twice. He breathes in my freshly showered scent, his nose pressing into my skin, then slides his hands down both my arms, unclasping my sweaty palms from my lap and lacing his fingers through, forcing them to relax.

Just as I feel the need to clench my thighs together, he grips both my wrists hard and pulls them tight behind my back with no concern about hurting me. I jolt forward with the pain trying to fight him but there’s no use.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice higher pitched than normal.

He holds my wrists securely behind the chair as he reaches for the twine.

“When I was old enough to work, I started buying my own food and cooking for myself and my mother with money he couldn’t touch.”

I feel the twine wrap around my wrists, and he pulls it taut. So tight it hurts as it digs into my skin.

“And I promised myself that good food would never go to waste. See, when you have to fight for something as simple as nourishment, you tend to appreciate it more. Something you wouldn’t have ever had to learn during all those princess-like etiquette classes.”

“What do you think you’re going to do? Force feed me?” I spit out in question.

Gabriel moves in front of me without answering.

“Stop trying to fight it, it’s a Klemheist knot, the more you pull the tighter it’ll get.”

He picks up my fork and loads it up with a scoop of quinoa.

“Now, I said eat.” One strong hand holds my head still as he uses his thumb to press against a joint near my lower jaw. Fucking hell.

My mouth pops open instantly and he shoves the fork in, swiping it out and holding my mouth closed.

“I told you this once—you won’t win.” Gabriel bends down to look in my eyes before removing his hand. “Now do as you’re fucking told.”

Fury rises in me like I’ve never felt. I shouldn’t fight back. I know I’ve pushed him far enough but the wicked side of me, that he does his damnedest to pull out every day, is the side that’s hurt by his insinuation that I’m being a princess. Without thought, I spit the food out on the floor. I don’t even raise my head back up before the knot at my wrists is pulled tighter by his hand. I cry out in pain and push the chair back, kicking at Gabriel. He easily places both his feet over mine to stop me and grabs my hair at the roots, tipping my head up to face him. He leans down and plants a line of gentle kisses up my jaw until he reaches the spot under my ear that he loves. His lips and tongue trail slowly along my pulse just before he bites my flesh. I whimper and ask myself why being tied here like this, completely at his mercy is doing it for me.

“You want to fight me? Once again you find yourself faced with a choice,” he growls.

“You leave me no choice but to fight. I’m not just your captive. I’m your—”

Gabriel silences me with a kiss to my lips. His knuckles graze my cheekbone with his free hand, and I fight with tears in my eyes to not let him pull me under as his other hand stays rooted in my hair. He pulls back from my lips, and I watch as his eyes focus on my mouth. His jaw flexes, he swallows and I know he’s just as strung out as I am right now. The thought of his hardened cock so close to me threatens to overtake every sliver of my anger.

“You’re my little hummingbird.” A sadistic smirk takes over his face. “And it’s time to feed, little bird.”

He picks up my half full glass of tequila and pulls my hair tighter. I watch his eyes as they focus, swirling it around in the glass before knocking half of it back in one shot and setting the glass on the table. Before I can register his movements, he’s pressing that spot along my jaw that forces my mouth open. He leans down and spits the tequila into my mouth. I choke on it and swallow what I can as it burns my windpipe.

Gabriel uses his thumb to spread tequila over my lips before leaning down again and kissing me deeply. As he does, I confirm what I assumed, he’s rock hard pressing against my arm. Warm and ready and tearing down my defenses with every swipe of his tongue. He still holds my feet down so clenching my thighs isn’t an option.

“If you continue to fight, I’ll have to find an equally creative way to feed you your dinner. The choice is yours.”

My breath is heavy as I realize I’m fighting a losing battle. I want to make him hard for me. I want to have him force me. Those dark parts of me crave it.

I simply choose to give in, looking him dead in the eyes, I pop my mouth open and stick out my tongue.

He holds my hair and stands in still silence for all of five seconds before a low growl leaves him. Gabriel reaches down and gathers a bite for me on the fork. He brings it to my lips, I feel my chest rise and fall, and I lean forward. Keeping my eyes on his, I wrap my lips around the fork and suck the food clean off. His cock presses into my arm and I shimmy just a little to torture him with some friction.

As I chew, a drawn out, seductive groan escapes me that I couldn’t prevent, even if I tried.

Fuck, it’s so good, I really am so hungry.

I swallow and open my mouth, sticking out my tongue again to show him I’ve swallowed.

“More?” I ask sweetly looking up at him through my lashes, taunting him. It’s the only power I have, and I realize it’s the way I can breakthrough. The thread of control he holds is unraveling by the second as he gathers me another bite and I swipe it off, taking even longer this time to pull my lips from the fork.

“So good,” I moan as I chew. I move a little more against his cock and I hear him mutter “fuck” under his breath. I’m testing him but he doesn’t stop me.

“Feed me more,” I tell him, but it comes out like a breathy whimper.

As my next bite is gathered, I see a wet spot through his light gray sweatpants where pre-cum seeps through, all for me.

I swallow that bite and smirk.

“More tequila now, please,” I ask.

Gabriel picks my glass up and mouths what’s left in it, looking down at me he uses his thumb to slowly pull my chin down. He doesn’t have to try hard. I pop it open and stick my tongue out for him. He bends down and lets the tequila trickle out of his mouth into mine, slowly. I lap at it, my tongue skimming his lips, savoring him and breaking him. One more swipe of my tongue over his bottom lip and then he’s kissing me, his thread finally snapping as the warm tequila floods my mouth and my pussy throbs almost worse than my wrists.

Gabriel pulls back and stares down at me, as if he’s in shock that I’ve turned his punishment around on him.

I pant in a shallow rhythm as I let my gaze trail over his body—slowly, the way he would normally do to me. The way that used to make me nervous but now only makes me want him. Over his abs to the deep V of his waist and then down to his cock my gaze settles. I hold it then look up at him.

“Feed me?” I ask as I open my mouth for him looking back down to his cock. Not one second passes before he’s wrenching himself free of his clothes and thrusting his cock into my mouth. I open wider and take him eagerly, gagging and sputtering around him as he hits the back of my throat. His other hand moves to my hair too and he loses it there, using his thumbs to slide down my cheeks and tug my jaw open wider. I moan against him. He thrusts deeper, holding his cock steady at the back of my throat. My eyes water as I look up at him through my lashes.

“That’s it, little bird. Suck. Make me your meal like a good little cockwhore.”

He pulls back and then slams into my mouth again and I can’t resist. I let my teeth graze him.

“Fuck,” he growls as I smirk around his cock, then gently lick over any pain I may have caused him, swirling my tongue against the ladder on the underside of his shaft.

“Use your teeth again and I’ll be taking your virgin ass right here on the kitchen table.”

I watch him above me. The dark beauty of Gabriel as he violently fucks my throat. It doesn’t take long like this, and I can tell he’s about to come. The thought of me tied up and at his will must do something to him too.

I moan around Gabriel as he forces his cock deep, drool runs down my chin as he hits the back of my throat over and over. He pulls out almost all the way, using his thumb to hold my chin down as my tongue lingers on him, he pushes back in, inch by inch as slow as he can allow himself. I swipe my tongue over every barbell as he groans, and I do everything in my power to make him feel all of it. My throat opening for him, my tongue against him. I moan, I’m so on fire for him I think I might combust. I’m desperate to be able to move, my hands are numb and heavy, still tied behind my back so tightly. I feel him harden even further against my tongue.

“Taste how out of control you make me, wicked girl,” he grunts as he fills my mouth without warning. I gag around him and choke on his cum as it hits my throat with force. Gabriel steadies himself inside me for a beat and breathes, his chest heaving like he had no control over what just happened. I fucking love it.

Gabriel looks down and pulls his cock from my lips, swiping his cum back into my mouth.

“Fuck, you’re stunning, all tied up, mouth full of my cock, my cum dripping from these pretty lips.” He runs a thumb over my mouth. “Beautiful.”

The deranged part of me blossoms under his praise.

He says nothing as he tucks his cock back into his pants and moves toward the bathroom. I wait, the pain in my hands takes over as the adrenaline of what he just did begins to fade.

Gabriel is back in less than a minute with a warm washcloth. He kneels down to my level and without looking, uses one hand to untie my wrists while he washes away my tears, my drool, his cum from my face with the other. I immediately pull my hands to my front when they’re free and sets the cloth down. I watch as he begins massaging them back to life for me.

“You’re the only person on this fucking planet that can make me lose control, Brinley. And me out of control is a dangerous thing to witness.” Gabriel’s eyes meet mine as he continues to rub and the pins and needles feeling in my palms begins to fade.

He sets the cloth down and lifts my plate. I watch as he heads back into the kitchen and puts it in the microwave to warm the rest back up for me. I could get up, but I don’t.

Gabriel returns moments later and sets my plate in front of me. He lifts me up and sits in my chair, pulling me into his lap. His hand comes up to brush my sweaty hair from my forehead. He kisses me there. I could try to run or fight him, but I don’t. I simply open my mouth again for my food.

“You can come to the rally on Saturday, but we’ll have some work to do first.”

He lifts the fork and begins to feed me the rest of my dinner. We sit like this, in silence, as I internally let out a scream of victory.

I hold my aching hands in my lap as Gabriel feeds me bite after bite. I take everything he offers.

To anyone on the outside, it would appear like maybe he serves me… like maybe I own him, not the other way around.