“Your pu**y is so wet those thin little pants are damp,” he growled. “Fuck, Anya. I can see it.”
Outraged horror exploded inside her as she looked down, seeing the faintest of dark prints against the light gray material where his c**k had rubbed her pants against her sex. She hadn’t worn panties. Why hadn’t she worn panties again? Oh yeah, they had rasped her engorged clit and irritated her.
“Why am I in your bedroom rather than my own?” she snapped back at him.
He grinned slowly. “Sleepwalking? My, my, Anya, trying to accost me in my sleep? Should I protest this myself in front of the tribunal?”
She started to shake. She had actually done that a time or two. Gone to sleep in her bed and awoken in Del-Rey’s. Just a few times though. And never had he been in it.
She shook her head, feeling herself pale. “I did this?” she whispered, shuddering at the knowledge that she could have set herself up like this.
His brows lifted as he grinned again. “Actually, I carried you here from the lounge and tucked you in myself. You sleep deep, baby. I could have had you f**ked and knotted before you knew what happened to you.”
Oh shit.
Anya swallowed tightly. He had carried her from the lounge and put her in his bed. And this was what had happened the first chance she’d had to forget what a lying snake he was.
“You bastard!”
“Yeah? So?” He smirked. “We’ve established this already, haven’t we? Are you going to start throwing things now?”
He was laughing at her. Daring to laugh at her because he had done this to her. This, made her sleep with him. But she remembered the dream clearly. She knew who had started touching first and who had been demanding. It hadn’t been him. It had been her crawling all over him like a bitch in heat.
Heat. The mating heat. She threw him a contemptuous stare before rushing across the room and throwing open the door to her own bedroom.
Was comm still down?
She picked up the secured landline at the side of her bed and stabbed her finger into the button to connect to Command.
“Yes, Coya?” Brim was still there.
“Is comm up?” She was breathing hard, heavy. She felt on the verge of panic. On the verge of rushing back to him and demanding he give her that damned kiss.
“Not yet. We’re still awaiting Del-Rey and Jonas Wyatt from the Bureau of Breed Affairs to go over the diagnostics on the electronics that were found with the hunters. Is anything wrong?”
“I need to see Armani,” she bit out. “Now.”
Silence filled the line for long moments.
“Are you unwell?” His voice was calm, cool. Typical Brim.
“I . . . I’m having an odd reaction to the hormonal therapy.” She swallowed tightly. “Is there any way to contact her?”
He was silent again. Longer this time.
“I can have a team waiting to take you to Haven as soon as I talk to Del-Rey and receive verification to do so. Would you like me to contact him?”
Contact Del-Rey? Her eyes swung to her still-closed door as she swallowed tightly. “No. No.” She shook her head; she was losing her mind. “Forget it.”
She disconnected the line before punching in Sharone’s number.
“Yes, Coya?” Sharone answered warily.
“Get one of the soldiers,” she ordered her. “I need a message out to Armani that I need to see her. Quickly.”
“I can’t,” Sharone answered her regretfully. “Brim contacted me earlier. I can’t take any orders from you that involve anything outside Base, without going through the alpha first.”
Anya turned slowly as the door opened and Del-Rey stood naked, aroused, in the doorway.