Faint, muffled by decks and distance, but unmistakable. His mate, sobbing in pain, begging for relief that wasn't coming. And underneath the crying, he could smell something else. Something wrong.
Fever. Heat fever. Her human body was burning itself alive.
The first chain snapped.
He barely felt it. His wolf was in control now, surging forward with a strength that should have been impossible. The second chain went. The third.
Go to her. Save her. Claim her. OURS.
The last chain shattered, and Anatole was moving before the pieces hit the ground. Up the stairs, through the corridors, his claws extended, his fangs descended. Crew members scrambled out of his way. Someone shouted his name. He didn't hear them. He could only hear her heartbeat, fast and thready, the sound of a body pushed past its limits.
He ran to his quarters at full speed.
The scent stopped him dead in his tracks.
Omega heat, thick and intoxicating, flooding his senses until he could barely think. Honeysuckle and vanilla gone dark with need, layered with the musk of slick and desperation. His cock, already hard, turned to iron. His wolf howled in triumph.
Then he saw her.
Curled on her side in the middle of his bed, drenched in sweat, her shift plastered to her body and rucked up around her thighs. One hand clutched his shirt to her chest. His shirt. She'd taken his shirt, buried her face in it, sought out his scent for comfort.
And between her thighs, slick glistened on her skin, pooling on the sheets beneath her.
She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with heat and fever, and her lips formed a single word.
"Anatole."
He stood frozen in the doorway, every muscle locked, fighting for control. His cock strained against his breeches, so hard it was painful. His wolf clawed at his ribs, demanding he take her, claim her, bury himself in that slick heat and never come out.
But she was looking at him with those fever-bright eyes, and underneath the heat-haze, he could see something else. Fear. Not of him. Of what was happening to her body.
"Tell me to leave." His voice came out wrecked, barely human. "Tell me to leave and I'll try. I don't know if I can, but I'll try."
"Don't." She reached for him, her hand trembling. "Don't leave. Please. I'm burning alive and I need... I need..."
"I know what you need." He took a step into the room, then another. Each step was agony, fighting his wolf's urge to simply pounce. "But if I touch you, I don't know if I can stop. My wolf wants to bond you. It's taking everything I have not to..."
"I don't care about the bond." She was crying now, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "I don't care if I die. I just need it to stop. Please, Anatole. Make it stop."
She didn't mean it. He knew she didn't mean it. But hearing her beg, seeing her in so much pain, his control cracked.
"I won't bond you." He crossed the remaining distance and sat on the edge of the bed, his hands shaking as he reached for her. "Whatever happens, I will not bite your mating gland. I need you to understand that. I need you to hold me to it."
"I understand." She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her cheek, and the contact sent fire racing through his veins. "I trust you."
Trust. She trusted him. This woman who had every reason to hate him, trusted him.
"Don't," he said roughly. "Don't trust me. I'm a monster."
"Maybe." She turned her face into his palm, pressing a kiss to his skin. "But you're the monster who chained himself in a hold to protect me. The monster who's shaking right now because he's so afraid of hurting me." Her eyes met his. "Touch me, Anatole. Please."
His control shattered.
JEANNE
HE WAS ON HER BEFOREshe could take another breath.
His mouth crashed into hers, hungry and desperate, and she opened for him instantly. His tongue swept inside, claiming her, tasting her, and she moaned against his lips. This was what she needed. This was what her body had been screaming for.
