Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Soren went rigid against me and an unconscious Cole fell from his grip.

The black void in his eyes swirled, fracturing, and a silver of violet flickered before getting consumed again by black.

The rage in him intensified, and he grabbed me by my throat and slammed me into the tree where he had been holding Cole only a second ago. "You would kiss me to save your puny boyfriend?"

My legs kicked underneath me as I clawed at his fingers on my throat, wheezing. "Soren, you’re hurting me—"

"Why, Adams? Did you want him to mark you in my woods? Was the idea thrilling, to say the least?" His fingers tightened. "Would you have preferred it rough against the tree? Where would he have taken first? Your tight little cunt or your virgin ass?"

Fear curled in my gut as I realized he thought I invited Cole here. "He came out of nowhere—"

"Let me guess. You went on a run at this time and conveniently ran into him?" He pressed his nose into my neck. "Why then, do you reek of lust and cum?"

My stomach dropped.

The sex dream. I had showered afterward, but the scent must still be clinging to my skin. That mingling with Cole’s scent on me was enough to draw the most obvious deduction: I had run out here to secretly meet Cole. Considering I never ran this early or alone for that matter, I had no reason to be out of the mansion at this time.

And those were his discarded headphones on the ground. He must not have heard my scream before finding us that way.

"Soren, it’s not what you think—" I started to say, but I stopped.

What would I say? Would he even believe me?

Between explaining to Soren that I had reeked of lust and cum because I was dreaming about him and the Lycans—the sheer embarrassment and his anger, my pride made a choice. I chose his anger.

"I don’t have to explain myself to you," I said.

He cut off my airflow and I began wheezing, dark spots filling my vision. "You see, I’m familiar with women like you. Sweet little innocent thing on the outside, while you spread your legs for anyone who looks your way twice. Tell me Adams. What’s it feel like to be a conniving little slut?"

My ears began ringing. I momentarily forgot he was half-strangling me to death, and I snarled, striking him across the face as anger flared inside me.

I wasn’t nearly close enough, and my nails caught his cheek. "Fuck you," I snarled. "I don’t have to explain myself to you."

The black void that was his eyes crinkled in the scariest smile I’d ever seen in my life.

I was wrong. Jericho might have had the look of a cold blooded killer, but Soren—mischievous, unpredictable Soren, was the menace.

"Maybe I will take you up on that offer, after all," he purred.

And then, he forced his tongue into my mouth.

The kiss was hateful and punishing. He strangled me and sucked whatever air was left in my lungs right out of me, until I felt my head go light.

I lashed out, catching his bottom lip between my teeth and I bit down so hard, I tasted his blood on my tongue.

Rather than push back, Soren groaned in approval. He rocked against me, the thick length of him pressing hard between my legs.

I clawed at his eyes.

He kissed me even harder, stroking his tongue against mine in a perfect rhythm that began doing things to my body.

Humiliation set in as he whispered against my mouth, "Slut."

I dug my nails into his chest and tore at his skin.

He grabbed my thigh and wrapped it around his waist, and pushed so hard, even with the barrier of clothing, I felt him push against my entrance.

I gasped against his lips. Had I been naked, he would have torn straight into me.

Terror wrecked my body. And yet, my breasts tightened.

"Did you wear this for him?" he growled, fingers skimming up my ribs to grip the center of my bra. In one brutal shove, he tore it off.

The cool morning air kissed my pebbled nipples and Soren broke this kiss, just to stare at the pinkened, puckered crests.

His large hand came up, completely covering my left breast, eyes dark. "You’ve got such perfect tits, Adams." He squeezed and a shock of heat raced to my groin, as he said, "Look at them."

I spat in his face.

He laughed. It was a dark sound that caused the birds to take flight into the skies. And then, his head dipped, and the bastard sank his fangs into my nipple.

The sound that tore out of me was something between a scream and a moan.

My back arched against my will, pushing my breast into his mouth. Light shot behind my eyes as his tongue slid over the aching spot and a needy sound I’d never heard myself make before escaped me. "Oh god."

His hand left my neck and I should’ve fought then to get away from him, but I couldn’t think.

He gripped the back of my thigh and hoisted me up. My ankles locked behind his torso. The friction was maddening, heat curling low in my stomach at the pressure pushing against me. He was so hard, he felt sharp, ready to impale me.

He palmed my ass through the spandex, kneading, and a guttural snarl rumbled in his throat. His movements became erratic. Angrier. His touch became animal. I felt claws dig into my hip a second before we moved.

My bare back hit the forest floor. I felt the dig of leaves and branches into my skin—and I didn’t care. Not as he sucked so hard on my nipple, pain and pleasure met in such a fierce collision, my cries echoed in the woods.

And then, his mouth returned to mine, drinking my gasps and moans. The kiss was claiming. He tasted like danger and power. Like sunshine and darkness.

He kissed me like he was starving and I was the feast he needed to devour to survive. A pure bolt of electricity shot down my spine as he ran his hands down my body, greedily, possessively, as if he was mapping every inch of my skin.

Soren ripped off my pants.

My eyes opened wide. "Soren," I said against his lips. "Don’t—" I started to say, but the words never made it out.

His fingers stroke against my center and fire detonated under my skin. I cried out, fingers curling into his shoulder as my hip bucked against his fingers. "I barely even touched you, Adams," he growled against my mouth.

He gathered my wetness on his fingertips in three languid strokes. I felt it trickling down my thigh. Shame and hate and lust mingled together, but the latter won out. "Is this all for me? Or did you come for your little lover?"