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𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 ☞ https://mybook.to/ForcedBond_ADL
Check out the #excerpt.
“You cannot be serious! No, Dad, just – no!” I am pacing up and down in front of my dad’s desk, the old wood floor of his packhouse office creaking with every heavy step. We have been at this for a while, and I am beyond agitated.
“It’s not just about me, can’t you see that? I will not force an innocent girl into becoming my luna! Dad, that’s insane!” My wolf is so close to the surface as I walk up to my father’s desk and lean over it that my voice comes out like a growl. “There is no way! I’m not doing this!”
The blood is rushing up a storm in my ears. This cannot be happening. They cannot be serious. Why would the Council of Elders agree to such a horrible idea? Why would they do this? Who even comes up with something like this?
I cannot believe my dad would even suggest something as outrageous as an arranged mating. I can feel my body heat rising and start tasting metal in my mouth. I desperately try to take deep breaths, attempting to rein in my wolf. I need to calm down, and fast. Shifting is strictly forbidden in the packhouse; that is one of our pack’s most basic rules. One I fully support, too.
But it is too late.
My wolf is taking over, making me sense Jackson’s hand stretching toward me before I feel it on the back of my shoulder. A growl rips from my throat as my wolf breaks out of me, and I shift faster than I ever have before. Twisting, I jump onto Jackson’s chest, making him lose his balance and fall backward. My wolf senses take in every detail as Jackson’s head bounces onto the floor with a hard thud. The whole room shakes. Still mid-fall, I know I have screwed up big-time. I try to brace a split second before my father’s massive wolf slams into me. The force of his jump over the desk takes us both tumbling all the way across the room, where I slam hard against the doorframe. A rib cracks from the impact, and the pain comes simultaneously with the sharp sting as my dad’s fangs pierce through the fur and skin of my exposed throat.
I can feel the vibration of his growl as I lie helplessly underneath him.
The stare he gives me is somehow angry, disappointed, and deeply worried all at the same time. It hits me straight in my bones, and a shiver goes through my wolf.
“Thirty lashes for shifting in the packhouse,” he orders, and I see my friend Hunter swallow hard. “Then three nights in the dungeon. Silver shackles. Water only.”
Hunter’s eyes find mine, wide with shock. There are few punishments worse than silver shackles for a wounded wolf. Not only will the silver keep me in my human form, but it will further slow the healing process, all but guaranteeing me three days and nights of brutal pain.
I really screwed up badly.
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