Any other time Jaime might have been happy to let him overwhelm her mouth and body like she’d always wanted him to…but it was all wrong. There was anger in the way he was kissing her and touching her. He was punishing her for what she’d said, for daring to defy him.

Her wolf, too, could sense his anger and suddenly saw him as a threat. She charged at her confines, battling to surface. But the effort to fight was as hopeless for her wolf as it was for Jaime.

While raw, primal lust was crushing her defenses, Jaime could do no more than feel as he completely took her over. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, and a growl of approval rumbled its way up his chest, making her already-beaded ni**les tighten even more. The friction to her clit was driving her insane, keeping her climax just out of reach.

In an urgent movement, Dante tore open the buttons of her jeans, and his hand dove inside her panties, cupping her. He growled at how wet she was, at how wet she was for him. Without any preamble, he sank two fingers inside her. So tight and hot. With every hard thrust, he sought out her sweet spot, making her squirm and buck, determined to show her just what she was missing by settling for a human. Determined to show her that Pretty Boy could never give her what she needed.

Determined to make her come harder than Pretty Boy ever had.

His wolf was urging him on, wanting more, wanting something that Dante might have ignored if feverish need and bubbling anger weren’t driving him. So when he sensed her orgasm was close, he tore his mouth from hers and ordered, “Come for me, Jaime. Right on my fingers.” Then he licked the crook of her neck and bit down hard. Satisfaction filled both him and his wolf as her pu**y clamped and rippled around his fingers and she came with a loud, husky cry.

It took at least ten seconds for Jaime to collect her thoughts. When she did, rage like she’d never before experienced shot through her. She’d just had one of the best orgasms of her life from a guy who didn’t even want her—the bastard had not only used her lust for him against her to punish her for rebelling, he’d done something worse.

He f**king bit me!

Dante forced himself to withdraw his fingers, but he couldn’t quite move away from her, couldn’t quite remember why he shouldn’t be doing this. He was thinking of dropping to his knees and tasting her when he suddenly found himself flat on his back on the ground and the breath gushed out of him. More shocking than that, a loud growl was coming from the female who was sneering down at him, her eyes flashing wolf. Even more shocking, dominant vibes were coming off her in waves, smothering him. What. The. Fuck?

“You marked me, you son of a bitch! Maybe you didn’t hear me before, Popeye, but I’m none of your goddamn business! Being my Beta doesn’t give you the right to mark me! I could have been your business, could have been yours to mark, but you don’t want me! Well someone else does, and if I want to f**k him, I goddamn motherfucking will!” With that, she got into her car and slammed the door shut on a gaping Dante. Jerk.

CHAPTER FOUR

During the baby shower, Dante observed Jaime through narrowed eyes. All night he had thought about the way she had yelled at him in the parking lot, the way her eyes had flashed wolf, and the way she’d managed to put him on his ass. Now sure, submissive wolves experienced anger just like everyone else; they had tantrums and brawls, they slammed doors, and they could do some seriously good combat moves. But they did not stare a pissed dominant wolf in the eye. They did not feel challenged by a dominant wolf’s anger or behavior. What they definitely, definitely, definitely didn’t do was release dominant vibes.

So he could form only one logical conclusion: Jaime wasn’t a submissive wolf at all, she was a dominant. And a very strong one at that. He wasn’t just a dominant wolf. He was her Beta. And yet Jaime had borne the weight of that and disabled him.

There was really no other explanation. But what he couldn’t understand was why she was hiding the truth. If it had been anyone else, Dante would probably have solved the puzzle by now, but his intuition gave him no help where Jaime was concerned. Maybe her magnetic scent messed with his mental processes, or maybe his need to be inside her was too great for him to pick up much else.

He didn’t know, in which case he was highly frustrated with this female for whom he had a lot of questions. At the same time, he was feeling rather smug. He’d been right; there was much more to Jaime Farrow than she let anyone see. He would soon find out what exactly “much more” was.

Also irking him was that Jaime was pretty much ignoring his existence. She had to know that he was now more than suspicious of her, and yet she didn’t appear to be the slightest bit nervous. Nor was she showing any signs that their little encounter last night had affected her. No, she was standing by the table with Dominic, laughing about God-knows-what. The clown was basking in the attention, though, surprisingly, he wasn’t being flirtatious today, as if he suspected that Dante wouldn’t handle it well right now.

Dominic would be right to think that. Dante could acknowledge—begrudgingly—that this was all about more than just an ego blow. But he’d already known that, hadn’t he? The truth was that he had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Jaime Farrow. He wanted to watch her come again, wanted to know what it felt like to be inside her, wanted to see this rebellious female submit to him.

But he couldn’t have any of those things. Even if she wasn’t off limits as part of his pack, he would have been sure to steer clear of her. His past had taught him that getting involved with a female he craved that strongly could only bring trouble. Of course none of these facts helped the situation, because forbidden fruit was so much more tempting.

As his gaze again roamed over her body, Dante’s c**k twitched. He couldn’t help remembering how well they fit; she was almost as tall as he was, which meant that her body was aligned nicely with his, chest to chest, hips to hips. He remembered how hot and wet she had felt around his fingers. And when she’d come apart all over his hand…Fuck.

He still couldn’t believe that he’d marked her. His wolf had been enraged at the time, knowing she was going off to meet another male, and had had a primal urge to bite her, to place his mark on her to warn off the other male. Never before had Dante lost his self-control like that. The female was dangerous to him.

He’d noticed that Jaime had covered the mark with makeup this morning. Clearly, she wasn’t wearing it with pride. There was no denying that she was justifiably angry with him. Hell, he was angry with him. But the fact that she’d concealed the mark nettled him and his wolf. Dante should have been relieved—it meant that the pack wouldn’t see it and then start launching questions. Instead, he wanted to wipe away the concealer. Wanted to see his bite on her flesh. His gaze repeatedly traveled to that spot on her neck, as if drawn to it. This was messed up.