She believed him. That was the thing. Corin had never given her a single reason to doubt his word. He'd been patient when she was prickly, steady when she was scared, present when everyone else kept their distance.
He'd defended her to strangers without explaining why. Had guarded her cottage at night without telling her. Had torn apart an ancient well with his bare claws because the thought of her being hurt made him lose control.
And through all of it, he'd never once pressured her. Never once made her feel like she owed him something.
"I need time," she said. "To process this. To figure out what I want."
"Take all the time you need."
"You mean that."
"I mean everything I say to you." His eyes held hers, and the weight of that gaze made something flutter in her chest. "I've waited thirty-four years to find my mate, Chloe. I can wait a little longer for you to decide if you want me back."
The words were warm and heavy. She should leave. Should go home and think about all of this, make lists of pros and cons, talk to Freya, call Wendy.
Instead, she stood up and crossed to the couch.
Corin watched her approach, his body going very still. She stopped in front of him, close enough to see the gold flecks in his hazelnut eyes, the slight part of his lips.
"I need time," she said again. "But I want something else first."
"What?"
"Kiss me."
He didn't move. "Chloe."
"I need to know if what I felt was real. If it's still there." She took a breath. "Please."
His hand came up slowly, like he was afraid she might bolt. His fingers brushed her jaw, featherlight, and the heat was there instantly. That same electric warmth, spreading from the point of contact through her entire body.
"It's real," he murmured.
"Then show me."
He pulled her down onto his lap, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other settling on her hip. She had a moment to register the size of him, the solid warmth of his body beneath hers, and then his mouth found hers and the world dissolved.
He kissed her like he'd been starving for it. Like she was water and he'd been wandering through desert for years. His lips were soft but insistent, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth until she opened for him with a gasp.
She tasted honey. Warmth. Something wild and ancient that made her fingers curl into his shoulders and her body arch against his.
This was what the bond felt like. This consuming heat, this desperate need to get closer, to crawl inside his skin and never come out.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
"Time," she managed. "I still need time."
"I know." His forehead rested against hers, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. "Take whatever you need."
She climbed off his lap on shaky legs, her lips still tingling, her body humming with want. He let her go without protest, though she could see the effort it cost him.
"I'll call you," she said from the doorway.
"I'll be here."
She stepped through the doorway and stopped. She didn't want to leave. Deep down, she already knew she didn't need time. It had just felt like the right thing to say.
For once, I am going to act on instinct, she decided. She stepped back into the house and shut the door.
