Hideaway Strath But I left it way too late

It seemed she had a decision to make, and not just whether or not she really wanted Whrist dead. She also had to decide if she could be cruel—or, at least, cruel to the only one she trusted more than anyone—the one she loved more than she could put into actual words. A life flashed before her eyes; one where she commanded her husband and bent him to her will—used his love for her to control him. That life seemed bleak and loveless. She didn't want to break him, she just wanted him to respect her enough not to break his promises to her. 

She stared at him, studying his face. She hadn't missed the flare of lust in his expression. She wanted him even now when he had so majorly fucked up. The bastard always wiggled his way in past her anger. She shook her head and sighed. I wouldn't ask you to do that. Unlike her, I have the pack's interest in mind, and that would cause them to lose trust in you. She stepped forward finally and nipped at his jaw. But I can't let you off easy, she spoke against his neck as she nipped there too. She positioned herself under his chin, her flank resting against his broad chest. She looked up at him, need and anger mixing strangely in her fiery gaze. No fucking anyone but me until you prove I can trust you again. Her punishment was dealt. He had no choice, even though she lifted a questioning eyebrow.