Her mysterious and ever-changing scent teased my nose. Sometimes she smelled of jasmine and honeysuckle, other times of dirt and green things, and when she used her Chimera magic, she smelled of ancient power and violence, mixed with a tinge of floral. Today, she smelled like peonies and snow.
I didn’t realize I’d stopped chopping until she slowly turned to me. Her rose-colored lips parted. “Everything alright?”
Evie’s eyes were azure pools, her cheekbones high, her jawline sharp. A pulse beat in her throat, and a hint of desire entwined in her scent.
I was dying a slow death as I drowned in the possibility of pleasure. “I’m fine.” If she wanted to continue playing this maddening game, I’d play it with her. We’d see who broke first.
I was nothing if not completely focused on seeing this thing to its inevitable conclusion. Evie would be mine, come hell or high water. But this felt more than that. This felt a little dangerous, and I wasn’t sure why. Not in the way that I thought she’d harm me; more in the way of us barreling toward something we could never extricate ourselves from, and even more serious than a mating bond.
Ifthere was something more serious than that bond. I’d never heard of something trumping a shifter’s mate bond, but I’d be a fool not to believe there were more things in heaven and earth than were dreamt of in my philosophy. Or whatever the hell that Horatio guy said.
“You’re still not chopping,” Evie said.
“You’re staring at me,” I responded.
Her lips twitched. “And you’re staring at me,” she countered.
“Hmm. I suppose we were staring at each other. Is there anything you want to discuss?” My gaze dropped to her lips.
That sexy pulse in her neck sped up. More desire entangled in her scent.
Yep. She wanted me. Bad.
Fuck. Yeah.
“Why would there be?” Her face was innocent, but two spots of color rose in her cheeks.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but you can always talk to me if you need to.” I leaned closer, so close I buried my nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. “About anything. If you want anything from me,” I said with a long pause, “anythingat all, I’m always happy to oblige.”
Evie’s breath caught. “What could I possibly want?” Her voice held a tinge of panic.
I smiled against her skin. “I wouldn’t know. I’m many things, but I’ve never been psychic.”
That place in my chest where Evie lived warmed like molten metal.
“I’m fine,” she insisted and pulled away, holding two glasses in her hand. Evie’s smile was shaky as she turned and hurried to the table.
I hid my smile and started chopping again. “Alright,” I said amiably. “The offer’s always open. No matter what time of day or night. I’m always ready and willing to offer any services you desire.”
A soft choking noise cut off.
I swallowed my laugh and kept chopping.
Chapter
Three
He knew. Godsdammit. He knew I wanted to throw him down and do terrible things to his person, and the bastard was teasing me about it. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the window display I was putting together, but I was hard-pressed to think about anything but the feel of his lips against my neck.
What was wrong with me? I’d consummated my relationship with Caelan when I was so drunk on power, I probably would have humped a tree stump if it gave me a come-hither look. But Rowan had done absolutely nothing but exist. He’d been careful with me and never initiated anything too intimate, his touch enough to keep me balanced. Rowan understood touch starvation far better than Caelan had. When Caelan touched me, it was about desire. When Rowan touched me…
I swallowed hard. When he touched me, I felt like no matter what happened, I’d find safety with him.
Why shouldn’t you jump his bones? came that dark little voice inside my head that usually only came out in the deep dark night. But today it was early. Way too early. And that was a problem.
I’d taken dinner in my room tonight, refusing Rowan’s invite to eat together for fear I’d jump on him like a ravenous beast.
“Get it together,” I muttered. I was not a teenage boy for crying out loud. I was a full-grown woman in total control of her emotions. Acting like an ovulating madwoman was a fast way to send everything on its ear.
