Truly, the wisest choice would be to hand her over to Thomren and tell him to arrange for a trusted underling to take care of her so Kain could release his hormonal insanity by punching on the nearest gang of thugs he could find.

The problem was that, along with the most painful erection he'd ever experienced, the smell of the little Breeder—of Selma—also brought a violent urge to protect and claim. Her blood had his protective instincts firing on all cylinders, and after seeing her abused in that damned warehouse…

He would rather kill every last one of his subordinates than send her off with one of them.

Shooting Thomren one last glare, he slid into the backseat of the car, where he arranged the girl across his lap so that she would be comfortable. Or as comfortable as she could be, injured and needy as she was.

Selma whimpered when Thomren started the car, pressed her face against the hollow of Kain’s neck, and breathed deeply in an obvious attempt to soothe herself. Yet all it did was cause warm, wet slick to soak her jeans so thoroughly he felt it trickle onto his own thighs.

She moaned in frustration and rubbed herself against him, her wet little tongue licking at the column of his throat when, apparently, the magic swallowed the last vestige of her rational mind.

He was going to die. Probably from spontaneous combustion.

“Selma,” he rasped, nuzzling into her messy hair once more when his self-control wavered. “You need to stop that. Now.”

“You taste so good,” she mumbled, her sweltering breath raising goosebumps on his skin. “Need you.”

Kain's breath hitched when she resumed her teasing attentions, biting not entirely gently at his pulse point before her sweet, wet licks continued upwards. Blood was rushing in his ears, his head was light, and his groin heavy and pained.

Stars above! She smelled so good, felt so good… He needed her, needed to spread her open and conquer that sweet pussy calling to him—

Her small yelp pulled him back, and he found his fingers had inadvertently dug into the swell of her hips, undoubtedly aggravating one of her many bruises.

“Sorry,” he ground out, releasing his grip on her injured body.

Selma hummed, her eyelids fluttering as she ground down against his straining cock, all thoughts of her injuries apparently forgotten.

Damned little thing.

Growling with the effort, he pushed her away and onto the seat beside him. She wailed at the separation and clawed at his clothes to get closer, and he lacked the strength to resist.

“Thomren, how much fucking longer?” It was meant as a snarl, but came out more like a desperate plea.

His underling had the good manners not to laugh, even as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror in time to see Selma climb on top of Kain and start biting at his shoulders through the jacket.

“Two more minutes, my Lord.”