Page 102 of Huntress

“I didn’t realize. Maybe I should have given it to you to wear first, then I’d have your scent instead.” She fidgeted with her fingers. What the hell was she saying?! And why did she like the idea of being covered in his scent?

“That–would have been preferable.”

Elsie raised a fist to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. Something was wrong. His voice, fuck, the sound of his breath, was doing things to her that she’d never felt in her dirtiest dreams.

“Mistress?” he questioned, and Elsie groaned. She couldn’t hide her arousal from the nose of a wolfhound demon.

She glanced up to find him already staring back. His eyes glittered, pupils blown wide despite the moonlight, and on his beautiful face was the softest, most vulnerable expression he’d ever shown her.

Hadn’t he teased her relentlessly and offered himself to her before? She shifted closer, pulled in by his warmth. He held her gaze as she pulled off her gloves and tossed them to the floor. Slowly, giving him time to reject her if he chose, she lifted a hand and pressed her fingertips to his arm when he didn’t pull away. Her touch glided up his skin, and his lips parted as he took a soft breath.

He took her other hand, twining their fingers together, then tugged her a step closer. Elsie’s entire body hummed with the need to close the barely there gap left between them. Her fingers traveled over his biceps, to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck.

He wet his lips, capturing her attention. Her lower stomach squeezed with need, the bond in her chest demanding satisfaction. Elsie rose onto her toes, and he met her halfway. Saint’s lips crushed hers, and she whimpered, pressing her body to his. His hand came up to cup her face, and she nearly let out a sob.

It had to be the mating bond making every touch this painfully good, and she relished it. She clung to him, skin practically steaming in the frosty air. Elsie let go of his hand, wrapping her arm around his back, fingers splayed to grab as much of him at once as possible. He gripped her hip, squeezing in time with their kisses.

They parted for a moment, breathing harsh and ragged, locking eyes. Somewhere deep in her mind, a tiny alarm bell rang, but Elsie reached out and crushed it. His mouth crashed back to hers, and their tongues met. Kissing Saint was like that first hit of adrenaline after jumping off a cliff. Hot, dangerous, and addicting.

“Mistress,” he whispered, the hand on her hip lowered to her thigh, giving her a squeeze.

Elsie obeyed, hopping up to wrap her legs around his waist while he supported her with a hand full of ass. His mouth moved to her throat, that wicked tongue of his tracing the patterns of her magical seal. They took on a pale blue glow, responding to her mate's presence.

He set her on the guardrail with her back against one of the support poles, and Elsie held on tight, the risk making her molten insides shiver with delight. She wriggled her hips forward until she felt the hard bulge under his jeans press right where she wanted it. Heat scorched between them as Saint tantalized her skin with his swirling tongue.

Hands grasping him tightly, she was drunk on his taste, his scent, his strength. He rolled his hips, and she gasped, a soft cry escaping her lips. Saint pulled his head back enough to watch the expression on her face when he did it again, and again, until he was straight grinding against her.

“Saint.” His name was a plea, as she begged for him. He kissed her deeply, hands entangled in that mass of hair. A strong gust of wind whipped their clothes around, but Elsie was impervious to the cold.

Her thermos toppled over and rolled across the platform, and Saint went still, then dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a groan. He’d just been given the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to stop, but now that he knew, he couldn’t continue.

“What are you doing?” Elsie asked, her voice husky with need.

“You don’t want this.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t want,” she whined. “I want you.”

“Tell me that again when you’re sober, and I’ll believe you.” The heat in his eyes called to her, begging her to follow through.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t had any alcohol.”

“It’s the tea, Mistress, you’ve been drugged. You don’t want me.”

“Like hell I don’t!”

“You think that now, but you’d say the same about anyone you happened to be with tonight. You’re going to hate yourself when whatever that woman put in your tea wears off. You’ll kill me in the morning if I let this go any further.”

“That’s not true. I haven’t wanted anyone else since I met you.”

Saint swiped a hand over his face. “You are not making this easy.”

“Saint, it hurts.”

“I know it does.” He lifted her hand to his chest, right where their bond was tethered. “I can feel how much it hurts.”

“Kiss me. Make it go away,” she pleaded.

“You’d only want more. It’s best to stop it right now.”