My wolf had been pushing my scent toward her for the last ten minutes. I hadn’t noticed until now. Her breathing had slowed and her posture had softened.
Scenting a mate wasn’t a choice. It was reflex, marrow-deep and involuntary.
But she didn’t know what I was. So I held the scent behind my teeth and let the cold air fill the space between us instead.
She paused in the doorway and didn’t turn around.
“Lucian.”
“...Yes?”
“Thank you. For letting me in today.” A pause. “And for not keeping me in the dark.”
The door closed behind her.
My hand stayed on the railing, warm where her fingers had grazed it. My wolf howled silently in my chest, and I let him.
***
Sleep didn’t come.
Past midnight, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling while the bond pulsed beneath my skin. The pull eventually quieted, and my own memories filled the silence.
Mira finished rewrapping my bandages despite the slight tremor of her hands. The wound was healing faster than any human injury should and she’d noticed.
“You should be dead,” she said, smoothing the last strip of gauze.
“I’m difficult to kill.”
“Clearly.” Her hand lingered on my chest, palm flat over the bandage, feeling my heartbeat through the cotton. “Your pulse is elevated.”
“Is it?”
“Lucian.”
“Mira.”
She looked up at me. Those mismatched eyes, unguarded for once. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip and my gaze tracked the movement with the focus of a predator.
“This is a terrible idea,” she whispered.
“Probably.”
“You’re injured.”
“I’m aware.”
“You should leave.”
“I should.”
Neither of us moved.
Her fingers curled into the bandage. The pressure sent a dull ache radiating through my ribs and I didn’t care. Not when she was looking at me with that expression, the one she’d been fighting for days.
“One kiss,” she said.
“One kiss,” I repeated.
