Even after everything they’d been through, she was still afraid of him finding out there was something wrong with her.
The memories bubbled in her mind. All those hours in an alien body, finally washing up on shore, fumbling her way back into human form, finding someone to ask to borrow their phone—and seeing the horror on their face at what she’d become.
And that was still her. Not human enough, and not shifter enough.
She swallowed. “I—”
“They’re lucky it’s the end of the world.”
Carol stopped. Moss’s face was dark; the kraken loomed in the depths of his eyes, and that opalescent shimmer was back. “Wh-what?”
“Because if there was anything except the apocalypse in front of us, I’d hunt them down for what they did to you.” His words were fierce, but his heart thrummed beneath them, hurting for her. Hurting for everything she’d been through. “I swear I won’t let anything like that happen to you again.”
“It—it wasn’t…”
“That bad?” His mouth jerked, a humorless smile, and his eyes searched hers. “This—is why you hide away, isn’t it? You don’t put yourself out there. Because whenever you did, your friends hurt you. These college assholes. That fucker who shot you.” Hereached for her face, touching her gently. “You deserve so much better than that.”
And he believed it. His anger and love and belief that she was worth more than the way the world had treated her washed over her through their psychic connection.
Then she was in his arms. She kissed him, tentatively, desperately, her fingers digging into his scalp with all the ferocity she didn’t dare allow her lips. He tasted like wine and burned butter and every balanced flavor he’d concocted for this evening together above the crashing waves, and her teeth skidded against the soft edges of his lips. Too close. Too risky.
She tried to pull away, and he groaned deep in his throat and dragged her back to himself.
And she was lost.
He was right. She was afraid. Not of him. Of what the world would do if she didn’t make herself so small. She made herself not want things, even when it exploded out of her, like when she’d bitten him by accident.
She’d told herself that denying what she felt for Moss—what she wanted from him, wantedwithhim—was sensible. Practical. Appropriate.
But this—this wasright.As their kiss deepened, something unfurled in her heart. A ribbon of pure starlight. A connection.
A bond.
Was this what she’d been missing? That the mate bonddidhave to be chosen, after all?
If she had a choice—
Moss put his hand around her waist. His touch sent sensation racing like wildfire over her skin, as though the layers of clothing between them were burning away. Desire coiled and struck inside her, a whip of need.
From the way Moss groaned, his fingers tightening on her waist, she wasn’t the only one who felt it.
*This isn’t the way I saw this evening going,*he admitted.
Her confusion ricocheted along their mental connection. She didn’t even try to stop the emotional overflow. She wanted to be close to him, and hiding anything like that from him would separate the humming, electric connection between them.
*Really? What were you expecting out of a romantic seaside dinner?*
Regret tasted bitter at the back of her throat. Not her own regret—his. They were so close, it felt like the same thing. And that fact alone was too much. She didn’t dig any deeper intowhyhe felt regret.
Not when his big hands were picking her up, holding her close against his chest.
*I should have set up dinner inside,*he growled. It seemed perfectly natural that they were communicating mind to mind; their lips were busy, tasting, teasing, exploring.
And the touch of his mind to hers, their emotions overflowing back and forth between them, was like breathing fresh air for the first time.
*Follow my lead,*she told him, and slipped her hand into his. Her senses flooded out. The wild peninsula transformed, a constellation of lives overlaying the encroaching shadows of dusk. *I’ll get us back to our rooms without bumping into anyone.*
He hesitated. *Shit. If my cousins catch us—*
