by Caine
Chloe took it from him. She accepted it all. Every inch and thrust and flaw and fear. It hurt. It was raw and uncivilized and bestial in its appearance. Anyone not knowing what the two people enmeshed within one another’s bodies shared between them would have thought it obscene. And if anyone else had been in either position, had Chloe allowed herself to be treated this way by any other man or had Caine been so vile and uncaring as to treat any other woman but his mate this way, it would have been.
But Chloe was his mate. As Caine was hers. And together, they fought a war that they could win, but only when they joined together. Caine’s pack would survive. Chloe knew this as soon as his cock spilled itself inside her and sought out her own seed. His line would continue. As would hers.
And for Chloe, the most romantic thing about the entire situation truly was the moonlight.
Shining down on her uncle’s bloodied hardwood floor.
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