Aiden’s gaze went to his sister, and in it, Jacob glimpsed a helpless rage, an impotent need to protect that surged through the other man’s emotions and his body. Jacob knew the brother’s fury because it was similar to the cold, hard core that lodged in his own chest. Faith would suffer for this night with him, and he knew this.
Jacob felt his jaw knot as he fought a particularly vile curse. His hands were nearly trembling with his need to touch her, but his heart ached, shredded at the thoughts of what would come tomorrow.
“I would have you protect her, however you must,” he said furiously before turning and disappearing into the private bathroom.
There would be no way to muffle her cries, but at least she would be assured that those who cared for her would not witness the act. They gave her only the appearance of privacy to ease her though, knowing the shame that would fill her come the next morning.
And Wolfe knew how he was feeling. Only hours before, Bainesmith had dragged her own daughter from Wolfe’s cell after trying to force him into breeding her. Her own daughter. She was a demon, spawned from hell itself.
Jacob sighed wearily. His c**k was thick and hard, engorged from the scent of Faith’s arousal as it never had been before with the other women brought to him. But Faith had attracted him for months. He knew her, desired her anyway. She was a part of his Pack, and a part of who he was. He would have eventually taken her. Jacob had known for nearly a year that the time would come when Faith would lie beneath him. He would have preferred to give her the choice, to have allowed her an arousal she could attempt to control. He would have eased her into the mindless needs, not have her thrown into it.
Damn Bainesmith, he cursed silently. How was he to protect the gentleness of this woman through the savagery of the world she had been born into?
“Faith.” He moved closer to her, kneeling on the mattress as he stared into the overly bright eyes that watched him with such vulnerability. “I am sorry.”
She bit her lip, staring up at him, and Jacob felt his heart clench at the emotion in her gaze. He laid his finger to her lips before she would have spoken, expressing those emotions. She likely believed in love, in happily ever after, despite the reality of her life. He could see the dreams in her eyes, her belief that he would make it come out all right. What was he to do when he could not protect her, could not save her from the misery he knew was coming to her?
“No weakness, Faith,” he mouthed, reminding her of the microphones within the cells, and wishing he hadn’t had to. He wouldn’t speak of the cameras that he knew watched them. She knew. There was no help for it. Even the bathrooms were similarly equipped.
A tear slipped from her eye. He felt her body tremble, felt her inner pain begin, and howled silently in misery.
“Trust me, Faith. Relax, I don’t want to hurt you,” he told her, his hands moving to her legs, drawing them away from her chest as he helped her to lie back on the mattress.
She was still, almost unyielding as he practically forced her to uncurl her body and lay back. He was furious with Bainesmith, with himself, and with Faith. The scientist for her cruelty, himself for his weakness, and Faith for her belief in him.
She stretched out slowly, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes, dampening her flesh, the dark fire of her hair at her temples. He hated the tears, hated himself because he knew there would be more where those came from.
Jacob lowered himself beside her, burying his mouth at her ear as he pulled her body into his embrace. She was small and delicate, fragile in his arms. His hands caressed her back, her h*ps as he tried to soothe her past her fears.
He couldn’t reassure her. He couldn’t show her kindness, or it would be used against her later. Bainesmith enjoyed exploiting their weaknesses. She enjoyed playing them off against each other. He couldn’t allow Faith to be a weakness, or else her life would count for nothing.
She shuddered, whimpering as his lips pressed to the delicate skin of her neck. Her body trembled, and he felt the heat of her skin as her arousal grew.
“I’m frightened,” she whispered, her voice trembling, thick with her tears. “What have they done to me, Jacob?”
“No need for fear, Faith,” he promised her, wanting to growl at the incredible pleasure that the feel of her body brought to his. “Just relax. It will be over soon enough. Trust me in this.”
Her breath hitched as she fought to swallow her tears. “I do trust you, Jacob,” she promised him.
He turned her head, groaned at the trust and the depth of emotion in her eyes before he covered her lips with his own. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she moaned hungrily. Her lips opened for him, her tongue twining with his immediately. Jacob flinched at the incredible pleasure that washed over him. Her tongue shyly mated with his own, causing the glands at the side of his tongue to pulse, to ache.
He clasped her hip, rolling her to her back as he came over her. His lips closed on her tongue and created a gentle suckling motion as she bucked against him. He speared his tongue into her mouth, encouraging her to do the same. Sweet mercy. He shuddered, his grip tightening on her as his body shook with a sudden lust he couldn’t explain. All he knew was that the taste and the touch of her was driving him higher in his need, something no other woman had done in his sexual lifetime.
His hand moved from her hip, desperately loosening the large buttons of her shirt so his hand could cup her breast. It was warm and swollen, the nipple a hard little pinpoint of need against his palm. She cried out his name, trying to muffle the sound against his shoulder as his fingers tweaked the little point. She was fire in his arms, and suddenly his control was desperately weak.
Jacob had never known a time when he could not contain his sexual impulses. It had never mattered before how needy the woman was, how desperately she cried out for him, his control had never been tested. Now, with this small virgin, her body quaking beneath him, Jacob felt his own body trembling.
His lips slid from hers, over the delicate, stubborn chin, along a throat so soft he felt an incredible need to nip at the skin, to mark it. To mark her. His lips paused at the area where neck and shoulder met, and he could no longer contain that need. His canines nipped at her roughly, scratching the skin as she arched violently in his arms, crying out his name again. He covered the wound with his lips, stroked it with his tongue and drew it into his mouth to allow his saliva to ease whatever pain would have occurred.