So he drew back to look at her. Her body was flushed, breasts peaked, and eyes dazed. But most important was that her thighs were spread. She was still flushed with spice and open to him.
He stood up because he needed to shuck his clothing before he mounted her. His hands went to his pants, but his fingers were clumsy. And with the surge of the human in his mind, words spilled from his lips.
“Stop me, Cecilia.”
“It’s okay,” she said, her words breathless. “I liked it.”
She didn’t understand the bear. Worse, she didn’t understand that taking a woman without care was wrong. The human needed balance in all things, most especially with a woman. To simply take according to his desire was wrong. To act without thought was the height of imbalance.
“Stop me,” he rasped again.
“Hank, what’s wrong?”
He was out of control and that always led to disaster. She pushed up on her elbows to look at him. He needed to draw back. He needed to find that lost center of Zen awareness, but the bear scented her spice and tried to pull his attention back to it.
Something was important about it. Something that the bear wanted him to know so he would comply. So he would release control back to the animal.
He inhaled deeply. He tasted the persimmon on his lips. And the bear pushed him to know the truth.
It had to act now. It had to penetrate her now, because of her scent. Because of her taste, the bear knew it had to be now.
She was fertile.
“A baby,” he said. Then he repeated it more strongly. “A baby.”
“What?”
“Stop me,” he said again. “Or have my baby.” He inhaled again and nearly lost himself to the magic of her scent. “A shifter baby. Now.”
His pants hit the floor. His organ thrust forward, thick and proud. He paused a moment to let her admire it. Their child would have his strength. Their offspring would survive. She must see that.
“Put on a condom, Hank.”
His gaze caught hers and in that moment, he felt his humanity slam forward. The biology burned strong, but her eyes caught his soul. She kept him from toppling into raw need without thought or restraint.
“Hank?”
I choose balance. I choose sanity.
A mantra, repeated over thousands of hours. He latched onto it like the lifeline it was.
“Magic is a force,” he said. “Stronger in some than others.” It was the first thing his teacher had told him so long ago. And the words came hand in hand with the mantra.
She frowned, and her head tilted slightly in confusion. He couldn’t blame her. The last thing either of them wanted right now was for him to lecture her on shifter life. But it was the only way to hold onto his rational mind. That, plus the steady connection of her gaze.
I choose balance. I choose sanity.
“I gave myself over to it,” he rasped. “Earlier. To fight the hybrid outside.”
Her eyes widened, and her gaze hopped to the window, but he couldn’t lose her eyes. So he reached out, his hand jerking too hard, too fast. He stopped a split second before he touched her, and she looked back to him. And that settled him enough to speak rationally.
“You’re safe,” he said. “But I…” He swallowed. “I want you.”
Her expression softened. “I want you, too.”
His abdomen rippled at her words, but he held himself rigidly back. She had to understand.
“And babies?” he rasped. “The magic wants babies.”
