<b>Chapter </b>44


    Dominic’s POV


    64


    The Maybach roared beneath me as I pushed it well beyond the speed limit, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. My skin felt too tight, my body too hot.


    She was my mate. My responsibility. Mine to protect. Mine to please. Mine to mark so thoroughly that no other wolf would dare approach


    her.


    The thought of her seeking out another male–especially one who had imed her before–made my jaw clench until it ached. I needed to see her, to touch her, to erase any trace of that wolf from her skin.


    My body hardened at the thought of pressing her against the wall, of tasting every inch of her until she forgot any man but me had ever touched her. The wolf in me wanted to pin her down, to mark her neck with my teeth, to make her submit.


    The man in me wanted to hold her, to soothe the pain I knew she must be feeling.


    By the time I pulled into my driveway, dusk had fallen. I strode into the house, every sense attuned to finding her. Her scent hit me immediately<b>–</b>sweet with a hint of spice–but it was tainted with salt from tears and something else that made my skin crawl.


    Moretti’s scent clung to her, faint but unmistakable.


    I took the stairs two at a time, following her scent to her bedroom. I pushed the door open without knocking and found her <b>curled </b>on the bed, asleep. Her face was tear–stained, arms wrapped protectively around a box that reeked of another wolf.


    Something primitive and possessive surged through me. In two strides, I reached the bed and yanked the <b>box </b>from her arms, tossing it to the floor. The contents scattered across the carpet–brushes, pencils, and papers spilling out.


    I leaned over her<b>, </b>breathing in her scent mixed with Moretti’s. Uneptable. I pressed my face to her neck, my lips tracing her pulse point. Her skin was warm and soft beneath my mouth. I wanted to taste every inch of her, to rece his scent with mine until there was no question who <b>she </b>belonged to.


    Reba’s POV


    I jerked awake to the sensation of warm lips on my neck, a heavy weight pressing me into the mattress. Panic shot through me as I pushed against a solid chest.


    “What are you doing?‘ I gasped, blinking rapidly as Dominic’s face came into focus, his eyes glowing with an unnatural gold <b>that </b>made my stomach tighten with something between fear and want.


    “You went to see him. His voice was deeper than usual, almost a growl that vibrated against my skin where his mouth hovered near my throat. You reek of him.’


    My body responded to his closeness traitorously, heart racing, skin heating despite my mind’s protest. I struggled to form words <b>as </b><b>his </b>breath skated across my corbone.


    “What?” My voice came out breathier than I intended.


    :


    ?? 64


    “Your former fiancé. Dominic’s face hovered inches from mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress. The hard nes of his body aligned with mine in ways that made concentration difficult. “You signed our contract yesterday, and today you’re running back to the wolf who betrayed you?”


    Reality crashed back, and indignation red through me. I shoved harder against his chest, creating space between us despite the part of me that wanted to pull him closer.


    “I went to get my things,” I said, my voice shaking with renewed anger and unwanted awareness of him. “My designs. My work.”


    His eyes narrowed, the gold in them intensifying. “You could have sent Raymond alone.”


    Those are my personal possessions! My life’s work!” The words tore from my throat, raw with emotion. “And now most of it is gone because he burned it!”


    Something in my expression must have prated Dominic’s anger, because his grip on my arms loosened slightly. His thumbs began moving in small circles against my skin, sending unwee warmth through my body.


    “You went dressed like this<b>?</b><b>” </b>His gaze traveled over my outfit, lingering at the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts beneath <b>my </b>


    blouse. The heat in his eyes made my breath catch. “To impress him? Make him regret losing you<b>?</b><b>” </b>


    The usation stung, fresh tears pricking at my eyes even as my body responded to his scrutiny. “I dressed like this for Sofia! I had lunch with her before going to William’s.”


    I wiped angrily at my cheeks, frustrated by my conflicting reactions to him. “Do you really think I wanted to impress the man who cheated <b>on </b>me for years<b>? </b>Who humiliated me? Who just destroyed my most precious possessions<b>?</b><b>” </b>


    My voice broke on thest words, and I turned away, unable to bear his scrutiny. “He burned my portfolio. Years of work, gone. He told me I deserved it for rejecting him.”


    Dominic’s hands framed my <b>face</b><b>, </b>turning me back to him<b>. </b>His thumbs brushed over my cheekbones, the gentleness at odds with the intensity in his eyes. His body remained pressed against mine, his heat seeping through my clothes.


    He leaned forward<b>, </b>capturing my lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. His tongue teased the seam of my lips, demanding entry. Against my better judgment, <b>I </b>opened to him, a small sound escaping my throat as his tongue swept inside. Through our tentative bond, I felt a wave of protective fury followed by something like regret.


    My hands moved from pushing him away to gripping his shoulders, my body arching into his touch even as my mind screamed caution.


    When he pulled away, his thumb brushed a tear from my cheek. “I shouldn’t have assumed,” he murmured, his voice tough. He shifted his weight, pressing his hardness against my hip, making his desire unmistakable.


    I was <b>raising </b>my hand to respond to him, when suddenly it felt like my hand was empty, I suddenly remembered my box. I scrambled out from under him, looking around frantically.


    “My supplies! I spotted the box on the floor, its contents scattered across the carpet. I dropped to my knees, gathering pencils and brushes with trembling hands.


    My heart stopped when I found several of my cherished brushes snapped in hall, the delicate bristles crushed beyond repair. I cradled the broken pieces in my palm, fresh tears welling up.


    “These were all I had left, I whispered, the devastation in my voice filling the room.


    <b>64 </b>


    I looked up to find Dominic standing over me, his expression unreadable as he watched me mourn the destruction of thest remnants of my creative life. His eyes had darkened back to blue, but the tension in his body remained, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides <b>as </b>though fighting the urge to reach for me again.


    “Did you do this<b>?</b><b>” </b>I asked, my voice barely audible as I held up the broken brushes. “You threw my box on the floor<b>, </b>didn’t you<b>?</b><b>” </b>


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