The Alpha's Punishment (7 page)

He hesitated.

Don’t be soft. She’s the enemy.

He pointed a finger in her face. “You make one sound and I’ll put you in the trunk. Nod if you understand me.”

She bobbed her head up and down.

He slammed the door on her and climbed back in her car, tossing his duffel bag onto the seat beside him. He needed to get out of there before real trouble showed up. Those pathetic boys weren’t the brains behind the operation.

He knew Ashley wasn’t the mastermind, either, or she wouldn’t have been attacked by the men back there. Still, she had sold him out—and that bothered him more than any of the rest of it. Maybe, that first night when he met her, his instincts had gone off because she was a danger to him.

But no, that didn’t feel right. It had been attraction, not danger.

He pulled a baseball cap down low over his eyes and took off, out of the parking garage. He got on the highway and drove several miles, weaving in and out of traffic and keeping his eyes glued to his rearview mirror. They didn’t seem to have a tail. When he was sure of it, he took the next exit and pulled into a seedy motel on East Colfax—the kind that rented by the hour for cash and no ID.

He opened the back door and grabbed the duct tape again. He taped Ashley’s hands to her feet, then wound the tape around the handle of the back seat.

“You make one sound, or you try to escape, and I will kill you. Nod your head if you understand.”

She whimpered, panting for breath, but nodded.

“I will be right back. Don’t move.”

He slammed the door again and checked into a room. When he returned to the car, he cut her feet free and tossed a sweatshirt over her bound hands. “Let’s go,” he said, hauling her out of the car. “Not one sound out of you.”

She looked around wildly, but didn’t make a peep other than the sound of her breath rasping in her chest.

He took her into the room and used a length of rope to string her wrists up over the bathroom door. She stood on her tiptoes, swaying. Turning his back on her, he washed up, cleaning his gunshot wounds, which had nearly stopped bleeding. The bullets would come out in a few days. Shifters had incredible healing abilities. He rinsed his mouth out to rid the taste of blood and spit.

He was impressed that Ashley still hadn’t made a sound. He’d expected some kind of noise by this point. He turned back to her, considering.

“All right, Ashley. I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer.” He fished in his duffel bag for his belt and pulled it out. Walking behind her, he unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked, sidling as far away from him as her bound wrists would allow.

“Baring my target.”

She whimpered, twisting and turning and looking up at the ropes binding her hands.

He ignored her antics and pulled her panties down just below her buttocks. He stood back to admire the view. He wasn’t surprised to find her ass as perfect as he’d imagined it. Picking up the belt, he wound the buckle end around his fist.

Her eyes bulged. He caught her hips and turned her to face away from him. “I suggest you hold still,” he warned just before he brought his belt down across her buttocks with a light slap to perfect his aim.

She shrieked, dancing away from him, her feet lifting from the floor and kicking in the air. His intention had been to intimidate her, and it seemed to be working, because he knew that hadn’t really hurt her. He caught her wrists and pinned them against the door to hold her in place. He struck again, just a little harder.

She jumped as if shocked by electricity, her feet dancing to one side.

“Who hired you to kill me?” he demanded.

Noises came out of her, but they were incoherent sputtering.

He whipped her again. “I asked you a question,” he growled. “Who hired you to kill me?”

A string of nonsense syllables erupted from her, tumbling from her mouth one after the next.

He considered. He’d wanted her scared, but having her too terrified to speak wouldn’t work. Walking around the front of her, he pulled out his knife. Her eyes rolled back when he lifted the blade. He cut her down just as her eyelids fluttered and she fainted.

Damn.

He caught her limp form as it tumbled down and carried her to the bed where he sat with her cradled in his arms.

Within a few seconds her eyes opened and she blinked, looking up at his face.

He brushed the hair back from her big blue eyes and they looked at each other. Propping her up on his knee, he said, “Okay, we’re going to try this again. I need answers from you and you’re going to give them to me.”

She immediately began to struggle, twisting in his arms as if to dive off his lap. He used it to his advantage, pulling her face down over his knees. Her panties were still tangled around her thighs. His hand slapped down on her bare ass with a satisfying smack. She had a perfect bottom for spanking—plump and round, muscled globes that led into shapely thighs.

He slapped one side, then the other, over and over again. He’d just wanted to make her talk without actually harming her, but as he spanked her, his anger over her betrayal ebbed, turning to sympathy as she kicked and wriggled and her beautiful ass turned rosy and then a darker shade of pink. He held her snugly against his body and took care not to slap too hard. Shifters had superhuman strength, and the idea of bruising or actually harming his little assistant didn’t sit well with him. Even if she had tried to kill him.

“How much did you get paid for killing me?”

“I didn’t—”

He spanked the back of her thigh, causing her to yelp and kick. “How much?”

“Ow… ah… I wasn’t trying to kill you. All I had to do was take your laptop,” she gasped in a rush.

“And leave the one with the explosives in it.”

She went still for a moment, her head lifting.

His heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t known about the bomb. Satisfaction warmed his blood. He rested his hand on her blazing cheeks.

“Who gave you the laptop?”

“I don’t know.”

He resumed spanking. “Who hired you?”

“No one hired me.”

He spanked harder.

“Wait!” she cried. “It’s true—no one hired me. They kidnapped my sister!”

He froze, his hand mid-air.

“They said they would bring her tonight, but she wasn’t there.” Ashley’s voice sounded strangled.

* * *

Ashley abruptly found herself lifted upright and plopped on Ben’s knee, his green eyes boring through her.

“It’s true,” she whispered, seeing he was searching for something in her face.

“You should have come to me,” he said, his voice hard like steel.

Her bottom throbbed, his jeans rough against her bare skin. She swallowed. “They said they’d kill her,” she croaked.

He pursed his lips. The intensity with which he regarded her had an animal-like quality—as if he was a hunter and she his prey.

The memory of the huge wolf leaping over her car flashed in her mind. “What are you?” she whispered.

Abruptly, he stood, shoving her to her feet. “Go stand in the corner with your panties down,” he said, pointing to the juncture of two walls, his expression dangerous.

She didn’t even think of not obeying—he had her so cowed, she would have dropped to her knees and licked his shoe if he’d ordered it.

She shuffled across the room, putting her nose in the corner, intensely aware of her bare ass on full display. She wondered how red it looked. Her cheeks felt hot and stingy and for some bizarre reason, her pussy pulsed in rhythm with the throb there.

“I’m stepping outside. Don’t move, not even an inch from that corner. If you do, I will spank you again and this time it will be with my belt.”

She shivered, but need made her dare to ask, “What if I have to pee?” She peeked over her shoulder at him.

His eyes narrowed. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Go now, then,” he said.

She walked toward the bathroom, grabbing one side of her panties with her bound hands and trying to pull them up.

“Leave them,” he barked.

She looked over to find him trailing behind her toward the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping an eye on you.” He leaned in the doorway to the bathroom and folded his arms across his chest.

She willed herself to stop blushing as she sat on the toilet and stared at a spot on the floor. When she finished, she wrestled with the toilet paper, the duct tape making it hard for her to wipe herself.

“Need some help?” he asked.

Was that the glimmer of a smirk on his lips? She glared at him. “No.” She started to pull up her panties, then stopped, figuring he’d bark at her again.

“That’s right,” he said, motioning her forward. “Panties stay down until I pull them up.”

She made a huffing sound and tried to walk without shuffling, back to the corner.

“Stay.”

Woof.
She didn’t say it out loud
.

Her boss was a werewolf. A huge, black, terrifying beast who somebody had tried to use her to kill. Why? And what would he do with her now?

She stood holding her breath as he left. Her bottom was on fire, and the humiliating position infuriated her, but she was very well aware of the fact that he hadn’t hurt her. Well, other than her backside. Considering she’d just seen him trying to rip throats out with huge, sharp fangs, that said something.

The memory of him standing shirtless over her, tearing open her blouse and examining her with concern flitted before her eyes. Even though he thought she’d tried to kill him, he’d been checking her for injuries. He’d rescued her from those men, who had been trying to take her with them.

The motel door opened and closed and she sensed him behind her.

His thumbs hooked under the elastic of her panties, sending an electric shock where they touched her skin. Despite it all—despite her terror that he was going to kill her, despite the rather sound spanking he’d given her, despite the humiliation he’d just subjected her to, her body thrummed just to be near him.

He slowly drew her panties up, an act that seemed more intimate even than if they’d just had sex. Her pussy clenched.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. Her nipples puckered. Shivers of electric excitement ran through her body, but too soon, he stepped back. “Put on your skirt, we’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, her knees weak as she tried to step into her skirt without falling.

“You’re not in a position to ask questions,” he said and gave her panty-clad bottom another slap.

“Am I your prisoner?”

He pulled the pillowcase off one of the pillows and used it to cover her bound wrists as he led her to the door. “Yeah. You’re my prisoner.” His voice was deep and gruff and it seemed to enter her body and send shockwaves from her core down her legs.

He led her to her car and opened the back door. “Get in.”

She slid into the back seat. He immediately pushed her down to lie on the seat and taped her wrists to the base of the front seat, preventing her from sitting up. He leaned over her with the pillowcase open and she realized his intent.

“Wait, no,” she shrieked as the case came down over her head.

The car door slammed.

“Mr. Stone,” she cried. “Ben! Please. Please take it off.” She struggled to dislodge it, rubbing her head against the seat.

The car started.

“Please. Please,” she begged.

“Calm down, Ashley. I can’t have you seeing where I’m taking you.”

The car began to move.

“Get this off me. Get this fucking thing—” She thrashed around, yanking at her wrists to get them free. “Oh, God,” she moaned when it seemed clear he wasn’t going to take it off and she couldn’t get it off on her own. “Oh, God.”

Panic took over. She couldn’t breathe. She screamed over and over again, drawing in short gasps of breath between shrieks. Her feet kicked at the door, her bound wrists thrashed so much she punched herself in the face.

The car swerved and braked hard.

Oh, crap, she’d made him mad. He was going to put her in the trunk. She tried to stop screaming, but she couldn’t get control.

The car door opened and the pillowcase came off with a whoosh. He reached for her and she cowered, thinking he would strike her. Instead his large hands grasped her head, cupping it, stilling her. His palms were over her ears, muffling her sense of sound. The forced quiet gave her a strange sense of security, as if she was cocooned safely by those hands, protected.

He was leaning over her, his brows drawn together with the same expression he’d worn when he thought she’d been hurt. Pained—like her panic attack had caused him pain. And he’d shrugged off his own bullet wounds. Which… what the hell had happened to them? He wasn’t even bleeding anymore, nor did she see any sign of a bandage under his tight-fitting t-shirt.

“You’re claustrophobic.” It was a statement, rather than a question.

She nodded rapidly, still unable to catch her breath.

He began to fold the pillowcase lengthwise. She jerked away when he held it up to her head, but he persisted, wrapping it over her eyes like a blindfold. It wasn’t long enough for him to tie in the back, though.

“I won’t look. I’ll lie down and I won’t look, I promise,” she promised, still shaking like a leaf.

He ignored her, pulling out the duct tape. Once more, he positioned the pillowcase over her eyes, then wrapped the duct tape all the way around her head, securing the fabric like a crown around her head. “There,” he said. “Lie down.”

A wedge of fresh fear shot up and she groped wildly for him, her fingers landing on his t-shirt, which she wrapped up in her fist. His heavy hand dropped onto her nape. He muttered a curse, then pulled her out of the car.

She panicked, twisting wildly in his grip. “Not the trunk. Please—not the trunk. I’ll be good, I promise.”

To her shock, he wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. He didn’t say a word, but there was no mistaking the intended comfort. She clung to him, her body trembling against his hard muscled form. She drank in his strength, the solidity of his body. Inch by inch, her body relaxed.