My own pulse kicks up, responding to hers. The scent of her arousal mingles with mine in the small space.
“Why should I believe you now?” My voice is barely recognizable.
Instead of answering, she surges forward. Her mouth crashes against mine, hot and demanding.
I’m lost before I can think. My hands move to her waist, fingers digging into her hips as I pull her against me. Her arms lock around my neck, body arching into mine. The kiss turns brutal. Teeth catching. Tongues sliding. I back her harder against the wall, and she makes a sound that shoots straight through me.
My hand finds her thigh, hitching it up around my hip. She grinds against my hard cock, and I’m drowning in her scent, in the taste of her mouth, in the feel of her body pressed against mine.
I slide my hand inside her turtleneck, to her bare breasts, so soft yet firm. I pinch her hard nipples, eliciting a moan from both of us. I can’t get enough. I’m so fucking hard I ache to drive my cock into her pussy.
I break the kiss to drag my mouth down her throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there. She gasps, head falling back against the wall.
Her fingers slide into my hair, grip tightening as I bite down on the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.
“Dane,” she breathes, and something about my name in her mouth snaps me back to reality.
The pack. Faelan. Rafe waiting in the lodge.
I freeze. Force myself to pull back, just enough to see her face. Her pupils are blown wide, lips swollen from my mouth.
With every ounce of will I possess, I step away. Release her.
She stays against the wall, watching me. Not breathless. Not confused. Just ... waiting.
“We can’t do this,” I say, voice raw. “Not now.”
She says nothing. Just catches her breath. Her turtleneck is still bunched above her breasts where I shoved it. She tugs itdown without breaking eye contact. My hands still ache from letting go.
“The pack’s waiting.”
I don’t wait for her to agree. I step back. Rebuild the wall. Turn toward the door.
Her voice stops me.
“You were right to stop.” A beat. “But don’t lie like you wanted to.”
I don’t turn around. I just leave.
The door clicks closed behind me.
I breathe. Once. Twice. My skin burns where she touched me, and her scent clings to my clothes like smoke. I need to get my head straight before I walk into that meeting.
Too late. Two warriors stand guard outside the lodge. Their nostrils flare as I approach. Eyes drop. Postures shift. They say nothing, but I see the micro-adjustments—the careful blank expressions that hide what they smell on me.
Nova’s scent. Arousal. Restraint.
I nod curtly and push through the double doors.
The main room is quiet. Rafe sits at the head of the long table—my spot—with maps spread in front of him. He doesn’t move when I enter. Doesn’t acknowledge my authority or apologize for taking my chair. He simply looks up, eyes flat and assessing.
Lyanna stands near the window, arms crossed, face unreadable. The air in the room feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
“Alpha,” she says, just formal enough to remind everyone who’s in charge.
I don’t sit. Instead, I plant myself at the opposite end of the table, hands flat on the wood. “Let’s get started.”
Rafe nods once. “The tears in the realm are accelerating. Seven confirmed breaches in the last month.”
