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Her chin lifted, and I caught a flash of defiance in those green eyes that made something hot and possessive coil in my gut. "Yes. That's my job, remember? Solving your mate shortage problem."

"My mate shortage problem." I knew I should stop, should step back and put some distance between us before I did something we'd both regret. But I couldn't make myself move. "Is that what you think this is about?"

"Isn't it?" she challenged. Her pulse was jumping in her throat. I could see it clearly, could smell the way her arousal was mixing with something sharper now. Anger, maybe. Or frustration that matched my own. "You've been avoiding me for a week, Kavan. Ever since the mountain. So either I did something wrong, or you're just not interested, and either way, I'd appreciate it if you'd at least have the courtesy to tell me which it is instead of pretending I don't exist, because it makes my job a hell of a lot harder to do."

She thought I was rejecting her. That my avoidance had been about her rather than my own inability to handle what I felt when she was near.

"You think I'm not interested," I said slowly, and saw her flinch at whatever she heard in my voice.

"I think you almost kissed me and then spent a week acting like I've got the plague," she said. There was hurt underneath the anger now, raw and honest in a way that made my chest ache. "So yes, I think you're not interested. Or you're interested but you don't want to be, which amounts to the same thing."

I should have let her believe it. I should've agreed and sent her back to the castle and ended this before it went any further. But my dragon was roaring in my head, furious at the idea that she thought I didn't want her.

"You're distracting my warriors," I said instead, and watched confusion flicker across her face.

"What?"

"Your scent." I took a step closer, crowding into her space until she backed up and hit the stone wall. "Every male on the training ground can smell your arousal, Leila. And it's making them lose focus, making them wonder if they have a chance with the pretty Alliance diplomat who smells like the most delectable dish."

Her eyes went wide, and the color in her cheeks deepened to scarlet. "I'm not—I don't—"

"You do." I braced one hand on the wall beside her head and leaned in close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. "The problem isn't that I'm not interested. The problem is that I'm too interested. So interested that I've spent the past week avoiding you because every time I get close, all I can think about is claiming you in ways that have nothing to do with diplomacy and everything to do with the fact that your blood sings to me and I don't know what the hell that means."

She stared up at me, lips parted, breathing shallow. I could see the moment my words registered. The heat that flared in her eyes, the way her body swayed toward mine despite the wall at her back.

"Kavan," she whispered, and the way she said my name, breathy and wanting and edged with the same desperate need I felt, snapped the last thread of my control.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the wall, away from the training grounds where anyone could see, toward the small alcove built into the eastern wall. It was meant for storing equipment, barely large enough for two people, but it was private and shadowed and right now that was all I cared about.

I backed her against the stone wall inside the alcove and caged her in with my body, one hand still wrapped around her wrist and the other braced beside her head. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling in a way that drew my attention to the curve of her breasts beneath her tunic. The scent of her arousal was so strong now it made my head spin.

"This is a bad idea," I said, even as I lowered my head toward hers. "A terrible idea."

"Probably," she agreed, but her free hand fisted in my training leathers, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away. "Are you going to stop?"

"I should," I said, and then I kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. Wasn't the careful, tentative thing I'd almost given her on that mountain. This was raw and desperate and edged with a week's worth of frustration and need. I claimed her mouth like I had every right to it, like she was already mine, and when she made a small sound in the back of her throat and opened for me, something in my chest cracked wide open.

She tasted like honey and heat, and the way she kissed me back, fierce and demanding and holding nothing back, made my dragon roar with approval. Her hands were in my hair now, tugging hard enough to sting, and I growled against her mouth before trailing kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat to where her pulse hammered against my lips.

"Kavan," she gasped, and her hips rolled against mine in a way that made my vision blur. "Please."

She made a sound low in her throat when my hand slid from her wrist to the inside of her elbow, and I stopped there, just for a moment, feeling the warmth radiating off her skin. The alcove smelled of sun-warmed stone and her, that wildflower sweetness layered over something darker now, something urgent that my dragon recognized before I'd fully processed it. Her breathing had gone shallow. Mine had too.

"Is this what you want?" I asked against the curve of her throat, my lips brushing the words into her skin rather than speaking them aloud. "Tell me you want this."

"Yes," she breathed. "God, yes, Kavan."

"That's right," I murmured, and the possessive edge in my voice surprised even me. "You came looking for me. You found me. Now you're going to feel what that means."

The fastenings of her pants gave way under hands that weren't as steady as I'd have liked, and then there was nothing between my fingers and the heat of her. She gasped and her hips rolled forward, chasing the contact, and the sound she made, half surprise, half relief, dragged a rough noise out of me I had no intention of making.

I took my time. That surprised her, I could tell. She'd expected urgency, the same barely-leashed need that had driven us both into this alcove, but I was done being hasty with her. I learned her instead. The slick heat of her against my fingers made my dragon roar with satisfaction, but I forced myself to go slow. I mapped every response, every shiver, cataloguing what made her breath catch and what made her whimper. The exact pressure that had her nails biting into my shoulders. The slow, deliberate rhythm that made her head fall back against the stone wall, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat. The specific curl of my fingers that had her gasping my name like a plea.

She was so wet for me. So ready. The knowledge of it, the proof of her desire coating my hand, nearly shattered what remained of my control.

The scratchy wool of her tunic pressed against my forearm. The cool stone bit into my knuckles where my hand bracketed her hip, holding her steady as she tried to rock against my touch. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my palm, smelled the sharp spike of her arousal mixing with that wildflower sweetness that was driving me out of my mind.