SIXTEEN
ANNABEL
I stared up at Modi, not fully grasping what he’d said through the haze of pain pulsing through my abdomen in dull waves.
“W-What? You’ll…?”
“There are… ways that do not require me to knot you,” he said, and if I’d been capable of laughing, I would have at the determined set of his jaw. He looked like he was heading into battle.
“Anything,” I whispered. “Anything to make it stop.”
“Strip.” It was a command, his alpha nature rolling off his tongue with that deep rumble.
I obeyed, my hands responding without needing input from my brain. It took longer than it normally would have as I trembled and fumbled with the fabric of my clothes.
He hovered over me, watching me as I slowly removed layer after layer, his face still stern, features carved from granite. He was every
