And when he came back to himself, when words formed and his hands were hands not paws, he found himself kissing her back, licking her shoulder blades while he stroked her clit. No danger of too long a claw now. And he rode out her orgasm while still embedded within her.
Mate.
And he exploded again.
“As long as we’re taking a break, I have questions.”
Mark grunted, his focus already dwindling now that he couldn’t directly see Julie. She was in the kitchen and he could hear her readjusting her clothing. He was in the bathroom, making sure that all parts of his mind and body were human again.
“Do shifters react especially strongly to any type of food or metal or something? Silver? Gold?”
“Frankincense and myrrh?” he asked as he stepped out from the bathroom.
Damn, she was fully dressed again, a light sundress that even a grizzly could shove out of the way. Any hint of their antics were in the flush to her cheeks and the open space on the table. “Yeah. Do they?—”
“No. And lead bullets kill as easily as silver. But we do have stronger systems, heal a little faster, are a bit harder to take down.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“It does if you’re being chased by a hunter with a shotgun.”
She stiffened, and he regretted his words immediately. “I’m teasing. That’s never happened to me.”
“Liar,” she said, though the word was muffled as he pulled her against his chest. He hadn’t even consciously crossed the room, but now he was nuzzling into her hair and filling his mind with her scent.
“No, really,” he said as he licked the curve of her ear. “It was a pistol, not a shotgun. And he was a terrible shot.”
“Not helping.”
“Tell me what you need, baby,” he said, though the words sounded more like a rumble of vibration than words. “Anything. It’s yours.”
She straightened slowly, pushing away from him with a steady hand. He had to consciously relax his muscles to give her six inches of space. “You have to stop, Mark. I’ll never get any more work done and there’s a ton?—”
“Good. Because we’re done for the night.”
Every inch of her body stiffened. “This is your life, Mark?—”
“I know what’s at stake. Better than you.”
She nodded, her eyes too wide in the early evening shadows. “Yeah,” she grudgingly admitted, “I guess you do.”
“I’ve been facing this for a very long time.”
“I’m not giving up.”
He could see that. It was written boldly in every line of her body. “Didn’t ask that. But we’re taking a break.”
She grimaced, but eventually nodded. “Okay. Is there a pizza delivery place nearby? Let’s order?—”
“No.”
She arched a brow. “Hate pizza?”
He chuckled. “I spent at least a month eating only that.”
“So now you’re sick of it?”
He almost laughed, but the sound stuck in his throat. “No,” he said softly. “I’m sick of just surviving. Pushing hard on adrenaline and determination. That’s no way to live, Julie.”
