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Carnage Island (Reject Island)(69)

Author:Lexi C. Foss

“You have the power here, Clove,” I tell her. “You may be physically weaker, but we are slaves to your desires. A single command will release you. A truth. That’s all you need and Volt will do exactly what you tell him to do.”

Volt may be a little unhinged and crave violence, but he’s so smitten with Clove that all he needs is to hear the words and he’ll do whatever she asks.

“That’s why your words matter.” I tighten my grip on her chin, demanding that she hear me. “Your truth is vital to the success of our clan. You don’t have to tell us exactly what you’re feeling, but admitting that you’re not okay is imperative to how we function as a unit. Otherwise we risk crossing a boundary that may cause irreparable damage.”

Volt gathers her hands in one of his, pulling out a blade with another to set it against her throat. “Trust is crucial, sweetling. Without it, you could die.”

A far more crass approach, one that is particularly dangerous considering the yacht is gaining speed.

But I choose to trust Volt’s steady hand.

And the startled glimmer in her gaze tells me the point is finally registering. “Tell him to put the knife away, Clove.” I don’t phrase it as a demand, instead offering it as a suggestion as I release her chin.

She slowly looks at Volt, her throat working beneath the metal edge.

He stares down at her, waiting.

“I asked for clothes and you denied me,” she says. “Yet you’re telling me my words matter. Well, so do your actions.”

“Actions,” I repeat. “Such as allowing you to roam our den as an unknown wolf. Feeding you without requesting anything in return. Giving you a safe place to rest. Ensuring none of the other Alphas attacked you when you went into heat. You mean actions like those?”

She doesn’t reply.

“True words, Clove,” I press. “Requests that actually mean something. Those are what matters. And we both know your request for clothes wasn’t because you actually desired them.”

“So I should just trust you to know my desires, then,” she says bitterly. “To know whether I really mean something or not.”

“That’s the heart of our clan,” I reiterate. “It’s being open and honest with each other so we can trust our instincts. We could so easily hurt you, Clove. That’s what we want to avoid. And to do that, we need you to be honest with us.”

“Saying you’re fine when you’re clearly not, isn’t acceptable,” Volt adds, his tone holding a darkness to it that makes Clove’s eyes widen a little.

I nod “You just shifted for the first time on your own and you were openly distressed. Telling us you were fine was a blatant lie.”

“Think about the consequences of that,” Volt tells her. “We just watched you shift, which was hot as fuck and one hell of a turn-on. What if I fucked you after that? You said you were fine. But maybe you were actually hurt. I could have made that so much worse.”

“Except you haven’t fucked me since I was in heat, so that that scenario is a moot point since none of you want to knot me again,” she grumbles. “At least not until I go into a proper estrus.”

Silence falls on the heels of that pronouncement, followed by Clove’s eyes rounding at what she just said.

“So that’s the other thing you need,” Volt muses after a beat, glancing at me before focusing on the blade at her throat. “Is that why you’re all bent out of shape? Because you’re craving our knots?”

I can see the denial forming on her lips

Volt sees it, too.

So he presses the blade a little harder against her throat. “Think about what we’ve been trying to tell you before you answer that, sweetheart.” He’s not cutting her, just reinforcing his position.

It’s not my favorite method.

But we’re a clan.

A team.

And therefore I’ll let him play his role while I engage in my own.

I carefully join them on the bed, lying alongside Clove and tracing her jaw with my fingertip. “Are you upset with me, little one?” I give her an easier question to answer as I gently coax her gaze to mine.

Volt lets up on the knife a little, making sure the movement of her chin doesn’t cause a superficial wound.

“Yes,” she whispers. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Which part?”

“Being held down with a knife at my throat. Being chastised like I’m a child,” she says, swallowing. “I said I was fine because I am fine. I’m… I’m disappointed that I’m not the Omega you need. But I’m healthy and safe, which makes me fine.”

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