Holding my gaze, he lowers his head and licks the fresh tattoos again, slow and deliberate.
Without thought, my hand flashes out, fingers fisting in his dark hair. It’s not gentle. I’m angry, I realize. Or maybe frightened, I don’t know.
It must hurt, but he doesn’t resist. He just gazes at me in silent challenge.
For a moment, I’m not sure if I’m going to shove him away or yank him closer. The urge to crash my mouth into his surges through me like wildfire.
I need connection, I realize, reeling internally. Physical contact, closeness, comfort. I’machingfor it after the emotional violence of the last few days—even fromhim.
Even in the form of… whatever the fuck this is.
Warning bells are going off in my head. This is Stark. He’s a monster, a bully, a brute. I’m very, very publicly in a relationship with Killian, who Ilove.
Logic is no match for animal need. My fingers tighten in Stark’s hair. He opens his mouth wider, bares his teeth, and bites at my flesh.
The sound—fuck, themoan—escapes me again, my nipples tightening.
Then I hear the crunch of boots right outside an instant before the tent flap opens. I jerk back from him as Egith steps inside.
“Alpha Cooper,” she says, gaze flicking between us. “Alpha Stark.”
“Report,” Stark grunts, showing no hint of what just passed between us.
“No news,” she replies briskly. “I was just checking on Cooper. You two should get on the road if you’re planning to be home by tomorrow evening.”
I nod and rise, hoping I don’t look as shaky as I feel.
Egith says something about the wolves being ready. Stark gets up to go.
I don’t look at him. Whatever that was, I’m not going to touch the feeling again with a ten-foot pole.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Two days later, we approach the outskirts of Sturmfrost in the early afternoon.
Stark has been quiet the whole journey, but it’s not the quiet I’m used to. He’s less surly than before. He maintains a respectful distance. During our stop at Linsfall on the way back, we had two rooms, on opposite ends of the inn. He’s behaving as though nothing has changed between us.
I tell myself nothing has, but it sounds like a lie. Guilt prickles the edge of my mind every time I think of Killian.
But I didn’t actually kiss Stark, I remind myself for the dozenth time. It was just a thought—a momentary urge driven by the need for human connection in the aftermath of wartime brutality. I was devastated that we didn’t find my sister, and demoralized by the hours of brutal torture, all for nothing. I was in a vulnerable place—and helickedme.
I might have felt the urge to kiss just about anyone at that moment. It didn’t have to be Stark.
It meant nothing.
I havenothingto be guilty about.
Sinking my hands more deeply into Anassa’s fur, I let my head fall heavy in front of me, cushioned by the soft warmthof her neck. I press my face into her fur, inhaling deeply. Her familiar scent calms me, the rhythm of her huge paws striking the ground beneath me soothing me, slowing my erratic heartbeat.
I just wish I could stop seeing that look in his eyes when he licked me the second time. And then when I grabbed him by the hair…
And when he bit me…
Did he actuallywantme to kiss him?
No. That’s fucking crazy. It was a fluke—a freak occurrence. He probably felt the same kind of post-brutality need for human connection that I did. I take back every thought I’ve ever had about wanting him to be nicer. I liked him better when he wanted me dead.
Anassa’s amusement ripples to me through our bond. I ignore it, shoving all thoughts of Stark away.
