Because my wolf is pacing under my skin, and you’re the reason. Because every instinct I have says you’re mine to have and to protect.“You’ve got—” He gestured vaguely at his own face.
Her eyes narrowed. “Where?”
He stepped closer before he could think better of it. His thumb brushed her cheek, wiped the dust away with a barely-there touch, and the air seemed to tighten around them all over again. “There,” he said quietly.
Her pulse fluttered at her throat. He could see it, smell it, feel it answering something deep inside him.
She cleared her throat. “So. Basement.”
“Basement,” he echoed.
They both looked around at the now respectable space. Not perfect, but better.
She blew out a breath. “Okay. I think that’s enough for today.”
He nodded, grateful and disappointed in equal measure. “We earned food.”
Her mouth twitched. “You did bring meat.”
“I did.”
She headed toward the stairs, and he followed, acutely aware of the faint sway of her hips and the way his body reacted with no concept of dignity. And it was definitely not dignity—or his brain, for that matter—that ruled him when he watched, helpless, as he took her hand.
She turned around with a question in her eyes, and her scent hit him. Again.
Lavender and something warmer, earthier—sun-heated skin and the faintest trace of sweat and dust from the afternoon's work. The last of the daylight bled through the basement window in deep amber and thickened shadows, and all he could focus on was the way that scent wrapped around his senses and squeezed.
He had no answers to give her. He had none for himself. He hadn't come here today to start anything.
Liar.
He wasn’t. Or not completely. On the menu had been apologies and help. But now he was here, with her, having been on his feet since before dawn, exhaustion pulling at his bones and gnawing the edges of his reason. The full moon was still a few days off, but it was already beginning to call to the wolf—a wolf that paced and asked for her, to taste and drown in her scent. He could have fought all of it. He’d fought worse. But the reasons he kept giving himself weren't strong enough to make himwantto fight anymore, to want to keep his hands to himself any longer.
She only had to say a word. Not even that. She only had to hint at not wanting whatever was about to happen, and he would accept it like religion. He would step back, walk out that door, and never touch her again if that’s what she needed, what she asked of him. But it would have to come from her.
"I..." he started. He pulled, gently, and she glided back closer, as if she’d been expecting it. Hoping for it. The floorboards creaked under their combined weight. “Something,” he said, his voice dropping to almost a growl, his wolf right there, pushing against his skin. “There's something here. Between us.”
She took another step in, and he stopped breathing when she lowered her eyes and licked her lips. “I don't understand it.”
He did. Possibly. His wolf had bristled from the first moment he’d caught her scent, growling things that were insistent and stubborn. But this wasn’t the time to talk about guesses or his wolf’s obsession. So he took a step himself, bringing them close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off her skin, close enough to feel the drumming of her heart. The rhythm of it called to something primal in him, made his own pulse sync and surge.
He drew her in, surrounding her with his arms while his wolf all but howled at the righteousness of it.Yes. This. Her.She tilted her head back to keep her gaze locked into his—slightly unfocused eyes, pupils wide in the dimming light. Her lips parted.
“May I try something?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended. “You just have to step back or say the word, and I'll stop. No hard feelings.” If she did, he was going to find Lachlan and ask him to use magic to hurt him, possibly kill him, but she didn’t need to know that. She had to answer freely.
She swallowed, and he tracked the movement with predatory focus. “I don’t think I want to do either.”
“I need a little more than that. I need you to be sure.” Because if he started this, if he let himself have even one taste, it could change very many things. The wolf was already clawing at his restraint, demanding more, demanding everything.
The wolf would have to give her a damn minute.
“I am.” She pressed even closer, her hands flattening against his chest, right where his heart seemed to be stretching toward her. “It's beating very fast,” she whispered.
“I know.” Thundering, actually. Hammering against his ribs like it wanted to break free and lay itself at her feet.
She sighed softly. “My head is spinning a bit.”
“I know that too.”
