I can feel my pulse like the drums that aren’t beating any longer. It pounds inside my veins, and I know he can hear it too.
I still don’t move. I can feel my eyes watering. I can feel my muscles aching from the force of will it takes to keep them in one place. In one body.Here.
We can both feel it when the moon shifts, just that little bit. Just enough.
The moment is lost.
Because the full moon run has to start at the moment the moon is at its height. If it doesn’t, it won’t count.
This is how we both know the very instant I’ve betrayed him once again.
I let out a deep breath.
Ty lets out a howl that sounds more like a roar.
Then he’s on me. I don’t even see him move. One moment he’s across the hilltop, high on that rock, and the next he’shere.
“You little shit,” he growls, his face and that beard in my neck, his impossibly strong arms hauling me up from the stone until I’m hanging there, my toes off the ground. “Fuck you, Maddox. You know the gathering is coming up. I wanted my fucking queen before the solstice.”
I want to melt. I fight instead. “Then earn her, Ty.”
He doesn’t like that much.
He bites me, there on my neck. And as I throw my head back—heat and desire and that slick, impossible heat rushing through me—he sets me down and turns me so I’m facing away from him. He hooks an arm around my middle and holds me back toward him, against that massive, ripped chest of his.
Then he takes us both down to our knees.
I can feel his hard, dangerous hands on my jeans. He pulls them down, out of his way, and his rough fingers find me so wet and so ready that he grunts his approval even though he’s furious with me.
By the time he makes room for his cock and presses the thick tip against me, I’m sobbing out his name.
He’s over my back, pressing down on me so that I’m on all fours now. He’s mimicking the thing I won’t give him while the moon is full, and he’s doing it deliberately, and the trouble with Ty is that his punishments feel too good.
“You don’t deserve it,” he growls at me, his mouth at my ear. “You don’t want my cock when it matters, why should you have it any other time?”
“Because it’s mine,” I throw back at him.
I can feel as well as hear the way he groans at that. Because the only saving grace in this shared fate of ours is that he’s as powerless as I am when it comes to this. To us.
Fated means we’re both fucked.
He slams himself into me, hard.
And he’s not a small man. He’s always big and thick and wide enough to make me feel stretched. To give me that moment of near-pain before the wild delight floods in, and it turns out, you can become addicted to that, too.
This is all the rage and longing, mad fury and desire, fate and betrayal andgo fuck yourselfthat we take out on each other. This is raw and overwhelming and beautiful the way a storm is as it wrecks everything in its path.
It’s not cute. It’s not even the typical way he teases me, plays with me. He makes me his fuck toy tonight, and I know he thinks he’s dominating me, but I like that too.
Then he groans, because I make him mine. I move my hips, I push back to take him deeper, and this is who we are. This struggle, this rush, all barbs and teeth, claws and bites andyes.
It’s a full moon fuck, filled with a bold and battered longing for who we aren’t, not yet. Who we can’t be.
Who I won’t let us be.
I come in a rush and he follows, scalding me from the inside out. He bites down hard on my neck, and I can smell my own blood, a coppery sheen in the air.
It makes me come all over again, and harder this time.
