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Chapter 2: Awaiting Punishment
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Chapter 4: The Smell of Opportunity
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... nt needed teeth. Not pain. Not isolation. Realignment.
I sat up slowly, spine arching like a wary cat, my skin still tacky with sweat and shame from earlier "encounters." Dried streaks of someone else’s sin clung to my belly, my thighs, my cheeks—faint reminders of earlier indulgence. I reeked of sex, power, and rebellion. And the beastman?
He noticed.
He began sniffing the air. Loudly. A growl low in his chest, almost thoughtful. Like a sommelier trying to place notes in ...
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