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He pressed a firm hand to my lower back and opened the passenger door of the car. “Let me take you home. We can talk more there.”

My emotions were raw, confused. This whole night had been insane. And I was so damned exhausted. Just thinking of Brody made me weary to my bones. I got in. I’d given myself to this male. Yes, the council would hold me to it, but I didn’t think I could go anywhere else but with him, even if I had the choice because he wasn’t the only one affected by us mating. It was a powerful thing. Like a part of me I never knew existed had been brought to life, a part of me that knew him as well.

It was all just some trick created by the fates, though, wasn’t it? I had to keep reminding myself of that. We were their playthings, even if it felt real.

So impossibly real.

I’d seen how mating Warrick had affected Willow, how she and Warrick were with each other, but they had history, they’d known each other for a year before they mated. They chose to be together.

I hadn’t had that choice.

Unless deciding between letting Draven go mad or me getting murdered by his pack to save him was a choice. Now, I felt like I was on a runaway train and there was no stopping it. This deep, weird, confusing connection was slowly but surely tying me tighter and tighter to Draven, and I didn’t know if I could stop it.

Or if I even wanted to, anymore.

My brain screeched to a halt at that thought, and I made myself focus on why we were here in the first place.

Draven climbed in the car and started it.

“If we get something of Amy’s from her apartment, do you think you’d be able to track her scent through Oldwood Forest?”

“Yeah, if her scent’s still there, I’ll find it.”

“Right, let’s go to her place.”

“We’re going home. I’ll send Asher to get it. Can she get in past the ward?”

“Yes.” Since the ward had been broken, Asher would have no trouble getting in. Maybe I should insist on going myself, but I was tired, no, exhausted, and there was nothing else we could do tonight.

He sent his warrior a text and pulled out onto the street, heading for the keep.

Everyone was already in bed when we arrived, not surprising considering how late it was. As we approached the stairs, Draven took my hand. His palm was hot and dry, rough, comforting, and he led me up the stairs to his bedroom, closing us in.

I couldn’t look away as he reached back and tugged off his shirt, tossing it aside, and my breath caught when he closed the space between us. He gazed down at me as he slid his hands around my waist, then took my shirt in his hands. He waited, silently asking me for permission. I nodded and he lifted it over my head. Then kept on going, undressing me completely.

“I’m going to show you what violent hunger means to me, petal,” he said. “It’s powerful, and urgent, and out of control, but never about inflicting pain, never fueled by hatred.”

My breathing was choppy, and my skin felt hot and achy, his words hitting me and sinking deep. I wanted that; I wanted him to prove it to me, to show me so badly. I needed it to be true.

He regarded me, gaze on the wild side, and I expected him to lead me to his bed. Instead, he pulled me to him, lifted me, and kissed me.

He kissed me like he was dying and I was the only thing that could save him.

I wrapped my legs around his waist as he walked across the room to the large window and pressed me to the wall. The kiss grew more frantic, and his hands cupped my butt and squeezed. He moved me against him, working me up against the hardness of his cock that strained against his jeans.

I rolled my hips, and he pulled his mouth from mine with a snarl, forcing a whimper from me. I didn’t want him to stop. I was already close to coming.

But he put me down and spun me so I was facing the window. The moonlight shone in, and I could see our reflections clearly in the glass—me, naked, and Draven, tall and muscled behind me.

He shucked off his jeans, his boots, and socks as well, then he pressed in against me once more. I could feel his heart pounding against my back as his dark gaze slid over the bite mark he’d made on my shoulder, a permanent scar I’d carry always, marking me as his.

And I could admit when I looked at that mark in the mirror, I liked the way it made me feel.

Wanted, safe…his.

Dipping his head, he kissed the scarred skin and lifted his gaze to me as his palms slid up my hips to my waist. “Watch.” He kissed along my throat. “Watch what I do to you, Iris, how I worship you. See how much I want you.”

His hands moved over my body, his lips following along in their wake. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, us. His body shook as he did what he said, as he worshiped me. I could barely believe it. This powerful male actually shook from wanting me.