“Good?” he asked.
“Yes. More.”
He growled, his finger sliding in and out in a slow, careful rhythm that had her clutching at his shoulders. She was so focused on the sensation that she almost missed the second finger joining the first, stretching her further.
“Baylin,” she whimpered. “I feel... strange.”
“Good strange or bad strange?”
“Good. So good. But like I need?—”
“I know what you need.” He pressed deeper, curling his fingers just right, and the wave of pleasure that crashed over her was so intense that she cried out, her body arching off the bed as she came apart in his arms.
It took a long time to come back to herself, to register the fact that he was still there, still gently touching her, still murmuring soft words of praise against her ear.
“That was...” She couldn’t find words adequate to describe what had just happened. “I didn’t know anything could feel like that.”
She whimpered again as he gently pulled his finger free, then raised the glistening digit to his mouth. Her eyes widened as he licked it, his eyes flashing.
“Fuck, you taste good.”
“Really? Can I try it?”
He groaned and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. The kiss escalated until she was moving restlessly beneath him, but then she tasted a hint of copper just as he growled and lifted his head, fangs gleaming in the darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The beast stirred beneath Baylin’s skin like a living thing, pacing behind his ribs, clawing at his control. He’d never felt this way. Never felt the hot surge of want, the instinctive need to claim and possess, the ancient pull of something far older than reason. Liora lay beneath him, her golden hair spread across the pillow like spilled sunlight, her eyes wide and curious and completely unafraid.
That was the problem. She should have been afraid.
His fingers were still threaded through her hair, his body pressed against the softness of hers, and every point of contact was electric. The kiss they’d just shared had pushed him closer to the edge than he’d been in decades. He could taste her on his lips, as sweet and warm as honey, and his beast wanted more.
More. Ours. Claim her.
The thoughts weren’t quite words. They were a primal demand that thundered through his blood with every heartbeat.
“Baylin?”
Her voice was soft and curious. She was looking at him with those impossibly blue eyes, gold flecks catching the moonlight, and he realized with a start that something about his face had changed.
He could feel it now. The subtle elongation of his features. The prickling across his scalp as his hair thickened. The ache in his jaw as his fangs extended.
Fuck.
He pulled back immediately, putting distance between them, but the damage was done. She’d seen. She’d watched his beast rise to the surface, watched his control slip, and any moment now she would?—
“Your eyes,” she breathed. Not with fear. With wonder. “They’re glowing.”
He squeezed them shut, and tried to force the beast back. But it was like trying to hold back a flood with bare hands—the moment he’d let himself want her, truly want her, the barriers had begun to crumble.
“I need to go,” he said roughly, his voice deeper than usual. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”
“Don’t apologize.” The bed shifted as she sat up. “What’s happening? Is this the Vultor thing you mentioned? The consuming desires?”
A harsh laugh escaped him. “Yes. Among other things.”
“What other things?”
