39
Ben hit the steering wheel of his hire car again. The b*tch was going to pay for her infidelities. He grabbed the wheel, his knuckles turning white. A vein throbbed in his temple. His jaw ached from clenching it.
He imagined his hands were around that graceful neck of hers. The wheel creaked.
The neighbours had told him about the biker who had kissed his wife senseless on his own doorstep.
B*tch.
The bite should have bound her to him forever, given him complete control, but the animal had surprised him. She should have been a fox, a timid creature easily dominated. But she had shifted into a fu*king sabre-toothed tiger. He had barely escaped with his life, and the wounds she had inflicted still ached and throbbed when his sifter healing should have healed them long ago.
