I nearly fell. The wall was the only thing keeping me upright, my legs shaking, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Neal stood three feet away, chest heaving, his expression caught between hunger and horror.
"I'm sorry," he said. His voice was wrecked. "I shouldn't have— that was inappropriate. I'm your—"
"If you say 'doctor,' I swear to god—"
"I need to go."
He was already moving toward the door. Fleeing. Running from what had just happened between us.
"Neal—"
"Eat your breakfast," he said without looking back. "Sleep. I'll check on you later."
The door closed behind him.
I stood there, pressed against the wall, my lips swollen and my body aching and my mind struggling to process what had just happened.
Behind the barrier, Stone made a sound.
I turned.
He was watching me. Not with rage, not with the usual tension. Something else. Something that looked almost like... amusement.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat.
"Don't look at me like that," I told him, pushing off the wall on shaky legs. "You try getting kissed like that and see how composed you are afterward."
Stone's ear twitched.
"Yeah, well." I moved to the chair — my legs still weren't reliable — and sank into it. Reached for the coffee with trembling hands. "At least one of us is entertained."
Another sound from Stone. Definitely amusement.
"You're a terrible audience," I informed him.
I drank my coffee. Ate the oatmeal, which was perfect — not too thick, not too sweet, exactly the way I liked it. Neal had noticed that too, apparently. Noticed everything.
My lips still tingled.
I pressed my fingers to them and tried not to think about the way he'd tasted. The way he'd felt. The way the bond had screamed with finally, finally,finally.
Twenty-seven days.
I had twenty-seven days to save Stone and his pack.
But right now, all I could think about was the way Neal had kissed me like he was starving.
I studied for a while.
Or tried to. The words on the page kept blurring, my attention drifting back to what had happened. To Neal's hands in my hair. His mouth on my neck. The sound he'd made when he finally let himself want me.
Stone had settled back down. Watching, but calmer than usual. Maybe the show had been good for him. Entertainment value.
"Transformation narratives," I read aloud, mostly to fill the silence. "The liminal space between human and animal consciousness has been explored extensively in folklore, with particular attention to the moment of change itself."
Stone's ear flicked.
