And I wanted it. God help me, I begged for it.
My wolf is satisfied. Sated. Purring deep contentment that radiates through my entire body.
But I—
“Nadia.” His voice is rough. Raw. He’s sitting up now, reaching for me. “We need to talk—”
“Don’t.” I scramble backward. Start trying to straighten my clothes. Pull my pants up from where they’re bunched around my knees.
“Please. Just—”
“No.” I can’t. Can’t look at him. Can’t face this. Can’t—
His eyes are fading back to human gray, but the process is slow. I can still see hints of silver. Still see the dragon lingering.
My eyes must be doing the same.
What we just did wasn’t human sex. Wasn’t even typical shifter mating. It was supernatural and primal, and I let my wolf take complete control and now—
Now I don’t know if anything I felt was actually mine.
“Nadia, please—”
Voices outside. Distant but approaching. Someone else coming to train at this ungodly hour.
Panic slices through me, sharp and cold. If they find us here like this—disheveled, marked, reeking of sex and pheromones—
I snatch up my bra and shirt, and finish making myself minimally decent. I head for the door.
“Nadia, wait—”
I don’t wait. Just slip out of the equipment room. Through the main training facility, where two operatives I don’t recognize are heading toward the weights. They glance at me. I keep walking. Steady pace. Don’t run. Don’t give them a reason to remember this moment.
Out into the corridor. Back toward my quarters. My legs are shaking. I can feel him still—inside me, on my skin, in my lungs with every breath.
I make it to my room. Close the door. Lock it. Then sink down with my back against the wall and try to breathe.
My shoulder throbs where his teeth nearly broke through. I touch it gingerly, can still feel the deep impression. It’ll definitely bruise. Visible evidence of how close we came to something permanent.
My wolf is happy. Fulfilled. Absolutely certain about what just happened and what it means.
But I—
The heat cycle is still there. Fading but present. Active. Still influencing every decision, every sensation, every response my body has.
Can I trust anything while it’s still there? Can I trust that I wanted him? Or just that my wolf wanted him? Can I trust that what we just did was choice? Or instinct? Or biology that will embarrass me when it finally ends?
And Chance.
Oh God, Chance.
I just fucked the man who sentenced him to death. The man who gave the order that robbed us of our future.
And I just let him— No. Ibeggedhim to.
My throat closes. Guilt floods through me, sharp and suffocating. What would Chance think? What would he say if he could see me now, marked by his killer, satisfied and sated and already wanting more?
I’m betraying him. Betraying his memory. Betraying everything our bond meant.
