Freed and Filled

Chapter 6 - Jokur

White mutates to crimson.

This is real. She's not a simulation.

My roar rattles the light shining down on us as she slips away from me. The thud as she hits the ground destroys my control.

Pain means nothing as I reach across my chest and destroy the restraints on my other arm. With one sweep, I disconnect every wire attached to my head before unlatching the belts around my thighs.

I grab the first Enforcer's wrist as he dives for my lifemate, swinging upward with my other arm and snapping his elbow in the wrong direction. His howl is music to my ears. I tear out his throat and kick him toward his buddy, ensuring the spray of blood misses my omega.

Another body barrels toward me out of the darkness as I bend to retrieve my prize. I brace and accept the strike of the baton with a grunt. The zap of electricity streaks through me as he compresses the button. I snarl and rip the weapon from his hand before embedding it in his pathetic skull.

Dropping to my haunches, I gather her into my arms. She fits so perfectly like this, cradled against my chest.

My bleeding chest. Splotches of crimson grow on her white dress.

The wounds on my arms seep through the bandages. Red oozes from me, smearing over her legs and seeping into her hair.

She'll be covered in my scent.

Yes.

More.

I need to smell her.

I shift to remove the No-Smell stuck in my whiskers.

Ice infects my veins as a dart pierces my shoulder. Another breeches the fur of my lower back. My strength wanes.

I twist as my knees buckle, holding her tighter to me, taking the brunt of our fall and protecting her from injury.

When I rise from the murky depths of the sedative, overly bright fluorescent light reflects off the white ceiling, walls, and floor. A large frame on one wall holds a two-way mirror. The room itself holds a shower head in the corner, a toilet, the torture device underneath me, and nothing else. I drop my gaze to the hazy lump at my feet.

A low, scratchy sound fills the air. Pain explodes in my chest, but I need an outlet for my anger.

I can't move.

My omega lies in a heap on the floor, her limbs at terrible angles—not broken, but as though someone carelessly tossed her through the doorway and left her where she landed. I strain against my bindings but get nowhere. She whimpers and shifts.

I ease my growl into a purr, needing to comfort her in whatever way I can. Her groan digs a pit in the center of my stomach. She rolls to her side with a grimace and pulls her arm out from under her. After untangling herself, she pushes onto her hip and squints around the room.

When her gaze lands on my legs, her shoulders stiffen.

I strengthen my purr and relax in my bondage, part of me satisfied purely because her eyes trail up my body. I want to own every ounce of her attention from now until eternity.

Her eyebrows shoot upward when she reaches my chest.

I drown in her beautiful pale green orbs, stunned by the fierce concern emanating from her.

"You're bleeding. A lot," she whispers. Pink blooms on her freckled cheeks and she pushes herself across the floor, moving away from me.

She thrusts too hard and thunks her head against the wall.