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In my heart, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I deny myself this moment.

Rising up on my toes, I lift my hands to his neck, gripping him firmly. Then, I pull his mouth down to mine.

Soft. His lips are so soft, a thrilling juxtaposition to the rough calluses on his hands and the tight grip he has on my body. His mouth moves over mine, slowly. Almost sweetly.

It should be nice. It’s exactly the kind of kiss most women dream of from a handsome man.

But not me. A vague sense of dissatisfaction rushes through me. I’m disappointed his lips don’t match the promise of passion in his eyes.

I sigh into his mouth, ready to pull away, but his lips open over mine as he plasters my body to his. Suddenly, he’s holding me like I’m necessary for his survival. His teeth nip at my bottom lip, a small bite of pain before his tongue spikes into my mouth as if he wants to taste my soul. The gentle sweetness of moments ago is gone in a flash.

I lose control of my body. My hands fist in his hair, gripping tightly as I hold him to me. When my legs give way, he pins me to the tree trunk. His body is hard and heavy, trapping me between the solid tree and the warm muscle of his frame. One of his hands moves from my waist to my hair, winding the strands around his fist. He tugs my head back as he feasts on my mouth, holding me exactly where he wants me.

I moan into his mouth as our tongues tangle.

This was what I wanted when I brought his mouth to mine.

To be overwhelmed.

Conquered.

To feel owned.

A low, loud rumble rolls through the forest, wrapping around us.

Hunter lifts his head, turning to look to my right. I follow the direction of his gaze to see Conall standing between two trees. His shirt is open, revealing most of his chest and abdomen. His muscles are locked tight as he clenches his hands and opens them, over and over. His expression is murderous, but even from a distance, I can see his hard cock tenting the front of his breeches.

The air is suddenly hot, thick with tension. My lungs seize when Conall’s eyes narrow on me. Fierce tingles spread over my scalp and down my neck. I can’t read his intentions. There are so many emotions drenching the clearing. I can’t differentiate the Lycan’s from Hunter’s. They’re feelings are bombarding me with lust, anger, and greed, tangling with my own arousal.

My chest heaves as he moves, stalking toward us with long, determined strides. A thrill of fear races through me, but I don’t move. I can only watch as the Lycan prowls toward us.

Hunter, on the other hand, isn’t frozen. His hand moves from my hair to the back of my neck, and his other hand pushes my waist so I’m now facing Conall. Then, Hunter crowds behind me, his palm sliding around my body to my waist, slipping lower until his fingertips rest against my abdomen, only inches above my pussy. The hand on the back of my neck moves to the front of my throat, his fingers cupping me lightly. He’s presenting me to Conall. Like an object.

I want to hate it. I should. Haven’t I fought against a male owning any part of me my entire life?

But the damp between my thighs becomes a flood. I revel in his hold. In the way the Lycan’s golden eyes trace over every inch of me. I want them both to look, to want, as much as I do.

“She’s mine,” Conall growls out, but his eyes are locked on Hunter’s hands on my body.

“Then, come taste her, brother,” Hunter murmurs, his fingers flexing on my throat.

In a blink, Conall is in front of me, his chest heaving as he stares at me. His eyes are no longer black, but dark gold, and they shimmer in the sunlight.

Hunter’s hand cups my chin, lifting it to bare my throat to the Lycan.

Conall buries his face against my skin, his teeth nipping me. They’re too sharp to be fully human. I gasp as the sensations cascade through me. Danger hangs in the air, yet somehow it’s arousing. My nipples tighten beneath my dress. I press my thighs together, a futile attempt to ease the ache between them.

“You don’t smell of fear, mate,” Conall whispers against my skin.

“I’m not afraid.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Why?” My question is little more than a gasp.

“Because I want to devour you whole,” he snarls out, his teeth nipping me again.

His mouth traces lower, moving over my collarbone, down the center of my chest until he’s on his knees in front of me. Strong fingers unlace the front of my gown, tugging apart the material to reveal my breasts. A gruff sound escapes Conall as he buries his face against my flesh, the stubble on his cheeks prickling my skin as he rubs his cheek against the inner curve of my breast.