I bared my teeth, the canines long and sharp now. She didn’t flinch. She reached up and touched one with her tongue, then leaned in and kissed me again, biting my lip until I tasted more blood.
I stood, lifting her without breaking the connection. She wrapped her legs around me, clutching at my shoulders as I carried her to the leather couch. I slammed her down, pinned her wrists above her head, and drove into her with everything I had.
She took it, matched me thrust for thrust, hips rolling up to meet me. The robe was bunched at her waist, breasts bouncing with every movement, skin flushed and perfect. Her hair fanned across the armrest, eyes wild and hungry.
I felt the edge coming, the point where I’d lose myself completely. I wanted to warn her, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I held her down and bit her shoulder, the wolf beginning to emerge, every muscle tensing and shaking. Blood filled my mouth, and I raised my head, howling as if I were in the forest under a full moon.
She screamed, once, a high and beautiful sound. Her whole body seized, then shuddered around me, and I felt her pulse through every inch of my cock, her slick wave washing over my cock. Just as I was about to knot her, she screamed again and passed out.
The change back to man was quick and less painful. “Carrie?”
Her eyes fluttered, and a smile crossed her lips. “Fucking fuck,” she said. She looked down as I pulled out. “I’m sorry,” she said, almost giggling.
I collapsed next to her, both of us gasping, sweat-slick and shaking. For a moment, there was nothing in the world but her scent, her taste, the heat of her skin against mine.
She drew lazy circles on my chest. “Was that the wolf, or was that you?”
“Both,” I said. “But mostly me.”
She smiled, closed her eyes, and let herself relax. I felt her heartbeat slow, then match mine.
I pulled her closer, kissed her hair, and for the first time in my life, I felt at home.
The sun was up now, lighting the room in gold and dust. The bottles on the shelf glowed, casting little rainbows on the wall. The bite marks on her shoulder shuddered and closed, though the blood around the wound remained.
She whispered, “Don’t let go.”
I didn’t.
Finally, she whispered, “I’ve never needed anyone the way I need you right now.”
“The feeling is so fucking mutual that I may never let you out of my sight,” I said and meant every fucking word.
I’d fucked plenty of women before—some for love, some for money, some for the sheer animal hell of it. But nothing like this. Nothing where my brain and body both knew that if she asked me to die for her, I would.
“You’re not scared of all this?” I managed.
She shook her head, a tiny movement. “Of you? No.” She pressed her lips to my chest. “Of myself, maybe.”
I stroked her hair, fingers combing out the sweat and bourbon knots. “You were amazing.”
She laughed, voice cracked. “I begged. I’ve never begged before.”
“I liked it.”
“I did too,” she admitted, and the honesty in it made my bones ache.
“Honestly, I could sip you all night and never get bored.”
The house was still, the only sound her slow breathing and the distant birds in the blue beyond the window. I memorized thesmell of her, the way her skin felt against mine, the tiny freckles on her shoulder blades.
She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at me, face unreadable. “So what now? We just… keep fucking until someone comes to kill us?”
“Something like that,” I said.
She bit her lip, then traced the mark on her neck. “Is it real? The knotting thing?”
I nodded. “It’s real.”
