When I finally pushed my way to the front, I realized I was the only one still clothed. The only one not half-hard and trembling. Everybody around me was going crazy, shaking with anticipation, pupils blown wide, lips parted in silent devotion. Eyes clung to the stage like addicts waiting for their fix. Desperation hung in the air heavier than the magic, and I couldn't understand what all the fuss was about.
Then she appeared. A vision in burgundy and black that took my breath away.
White hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft, wild waves. Her corset hugged every curve, laced tight down the front and cinching her waist like sin itself. A black lace thong, thigh-high fishnets, and glittering stilettos completed the picture. She walked like temptation had built her from the ground up.
The music, which I hadn't noticed until now, throbbed in rhythm to the sway of her hips. Her body moved like it knew the rules of seduction better than gravity. That black mask covered most of her face, but not her eyes. Those gorgeous, haunting eyes stirred something feral in me.
They reminded me of a meadow back home upstate, one blanketed in pink-tipped flowers. They were the kind of eyes I could fall into and be happy never to leave.
Even my wolf turned its head. Silent and alert, he watched her through my eyes, intrigued by every move she made. He was feeling the same things I was when I looked at her.
Familiar. Dangerous. Irreplaceable.
I needed to get a closer look.
I should’ve been subtle, stayed low-profile, but my feet betrayed me. I carved a path straight to the stage, pushing harder than I realized. I didn’t care who I bumped, who glared. I had tunnel vision, and she was the tunnel.
Was she a siren? Was that what this was? That instinctual pull. That dizzying need to taste her skin, to feel the warmth between her thighs, to catch her attention and keep it forever?
I licked my lips. My mind dreamed up scenarios of me climbing up on stage, tearing off her mask, and yanking her closer as my mouth devoured hers. I’d kiss her until she gasped, until she begged me to stop, only to ask me to keep going. My hands would map those perfect curves, grip them hard enough to bruise.
Mine.
My wolf echoed like a drumbeat in my mind.
Mine. Ours. Mate. Mine. Ours. Mate.
My fists clenched at my sides. I knew I wasn’t thinking clearly, wasn’t even fully in control. My wolf was clawing his way up my spine, trying to take the wheel, but I couldn’t let him. This was a job. Not some destined fairytale ending.
Our mate was gone.
Long gone.
No. Mate. Ours. Mine.
I bit down on my forearm hard enough to leave marks, trying to snap out of the haze. Blood filled my mouth, metallic and grounding. The pain was a lifeline until she stopped, standing right in front of me.Those long, silky legs were just inches from where I was. Her hand extended toward me like a queen offering favor. An impish smile curled her lips when she looked down.
“Will you come and play with me?”
Her voice was music. Lyrical and soft, but just the right side of confident, like she knew exactly how to use it.
My mind screamedno.I had to stay detached, hidden. I had to observe from a distance. That was the plan. Theonlyplan.
Besides, why me? She had a stage full of eager worshippers at her feet.
She didn’t seem to notice my hesitation or, more likely, she didn’t care. She crouched, eye-level now, and that was worse. So much worse. I could smell her. That scent. Thatexactscent. The one that lived in my memories and in my bones.
My mate’s scent.
It wasn’t the air. It washer.
Her hand reached for my cheek, and I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Was this a dream?
“I can make you feel so good tonight,” she whispered, fingers softly running through my hair. “I promise.”
I leaned into her touch without meaning to. My nose grazed her wrist, and I breathed in deep, needing to make sure.
The smell is hers, but why would she be in a place like this? It doesn’t make sense.
