The mate pull

The next time Riordan came in, Freya was ready. She dove from her perch above the door and tackled him to the ground, her claws scouring his chest in deep bloody lines. His beating heart was just beneath her, all she needed was her dagger thrust into the offending organ and her target would be eliminated. She called to the darkness and her eyes widened when the magic refused to unfurl into a weapon as usual.

Her momentary shock cost her. He gripped her hands and flipped her over his head. She landed hard on her back and twisted to get away but he grabbed her ankle and dragged her closer, his huge body pinning her to the ground.

Her claws sharpened and she raised them to rip out his throat but he caught her wrist and pinned them both above her head. She bucked and tried to throw him off or rip her wrists from his grip but even though he secured her with only one hand, it was impossible to get away. She cursed colourfully, damn werewolves and their inhuman strength! His fist suddenly