body came alive. He tasted like a blend of the richest, most delicious spices. And she never wanted him to stop.
He knew it, too, the bastard, took full advantage of her sudden, inexplicable wantonness to press his body into hers, to grind his hardness to her belly. When he finally pulled back, he took in her quick breaths with a too-obvious satisfaction.
She pressed the back of his hand to her lips. They tingled—everything tingled—and if he didn’t back away, she might not be able to resist reaching out and grabbing him and kissing him.
Ridiculous. Had she hit her head and not realized it?
“Is this . . . only because of your prey instincts?” she whispered, not wanting him to say yes. Because then anyone could trigger this inside of him . . . None of it would be special.
He stared at her, his eyes so mesmerizing she couldn’t look away. “Yes.”
He was lying, and even though she knew that, the fact that he’d deny her was worse than anything. The lights flickered, the floor began to rumble under their feet and she heard something crash.
She moved farther away from him and felt for the brand on her back, sure it was as red and angry as the first time she’d seen it. Of course, she was the only one who could, which had nearly earned her a stay in the psych ward after the accident.
She’d been traumatized, but she’d known she wasn’t crazy. So she’d stopped talking about it. Tried to be good.
She’d become emancipated at seventeen and had floated around doing odd jobs until she’d met Leo Shimmin after her attack.
Leo Shimmin, who must’ve been watching her since then.
She was surrounded by the truths she wasn’t ready to face. They made sense and fit with the dreams she’d been having, with what happened at the scene of the accident.
She’d always believed she wasn’t crazy, but the rest of the world sure gave her a problem with it.
“I need to see the brand.”
The door slammed loudly behind her at his request, but he appeared unfazed by any of it. She wished she could be so. “You can’t see it—you don’t know anything.”
“I know what I saw happen to you during the accident. Control yourself and let me see the brand.”
She didn’t want to follow any of his orders but needed to prove to herself that she could stop the destruction her mind caused. And it took at least five minutes, with her eyes closed, whispering to herself that she could control it until she stopped hearing doors banging and glass shattering.
She opened her eyes and found Stray staring at her, approval in his eyes.
Finally, reluctantly, she turned, confident that he would see nothing. No one ever had. She lifted her shirt until the air cooled the still-too-warm area of her flesh. When she heard the sharp intake of breath from Stray, she swung her head around. “You see it?”
“It’s hard to miss.” She turned back, stared at the wall in front of her. She wondered if he’d touch it again, and if the same thing would happen if he did.
When he didn’t, disappointment washed over her. “Show’s over.” She yanked her shirt down and turned to face him. “Everything got worse for me after she touched me at the scene. I should’ve died. You saw it, felt it. I was dying—and she branded me. I’ll never be the same.”
Chapter 11
T he lights flickered one last time and then leveled out. The alarm system beeped in the background, but Kate wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was set for wolf frequencies, not human or witch, as the case may be.
“The accident,” she murmured as Stray watched. Her eyes held the faraway look they had earlier. “They said I was thrown from the car.”
“You weren’t.”
Her next words held an urgency that broke his heart. “You saw her—the woman who saved me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the first one. The only one,” she murmured. “What does that mean?”
It meant so goddamned much that he couldn’t even begin to understand it. Kate continued.
He knew it, too, the bastard, took full advantage of her sudden, inexplicable wantonness to press his body into hers, to grind his hardness to her belly. When he finally pulled back, he took in her quick breaths with a too-obvious satisfaction.
She pressed the back of his hand to her lips. They tingled—everything tingled—and if he didn’t back away, she might not be able to resist reaching out and grabbing him and kissing him.
Ridiculous. Had she hit her head and not realized it?
“Is this . . . only because of your prey instincts?” she whispered, not wanting him to say yes. Because then anyone could trigger this inside of him . . . None of it would be special.
He stared at her, his eyes so mesmerizing she couldn’t look away. “Yes.”
He was lying, and even though she knew that, the fact that he’d deny her was worse than anything. The lights flickered, the floor began to rumble under their feet and she heard something crash.
She moved farther away from him and felt for the brand on her back, sure it was as red and angry as the first time she’d seen it. Of course, she was the only one who could, which had nearly earned her a stay in the psych ward after the accident.
She’d been traumatized, but she’d known she wasn’t crazy. So she’d stopped talking about it. Tried to be good.
She’d become emancipated at seventeen and had floated around doing odd jobs until she’d met Leo Shimmin after her attack.
Leo Shimmin, who must’ve been watching her since then.
She was surrounded by the truths she wasn’t ready to face. They made sense and fit with the dreams she’d been having, with what happened at the scene of the accident.
She’d always believed she wasn’t crazy, but the rest of the world sure gave her a problem with it.
“I need to see the brand.”
The door slammed loudly behind her at his request, but he appeared unfazed by any of it. She wished she could be so. “You can’t see it—you don’t know anything.”
“I know what I saw happen to you during the accident. Control yourself and let me see the brand.”
She didn’t want to follow any of his orders but needed to prove to herself that she could stop the destruction her mind caused. And it took at least five minutes, with her eyes closed, whispering to herself that she could control it until she stopped hearing doors banging and glass shattering.
She opened her eyes and found Stray staring at her, approval in his eyes.
Finally, reluctantly, she turned, confident that he would see nothing. No one ever had. She lifted her shirt until the air cooled the still-too-warm area of her flesh. When she heard the sharp intake of breath from Stray, she swung her head around. “You see it?”
“It’s hard to miss.” She turned back, stared at the wall in front of her. She wondered if he’d touch it again, and if the same thing would happen if he did.
When he didn’t, disappointment washed over her. “Show’s over.” She yanked her shirt down and turned to face him. “Everything got worse for me after she touched me at the scene. I should’ve died. You saw it, felt it. I was dying—and she branded me. I’ll never be the same.”
Chapter 11
T he lights flickered one last time and then leveled out. The alarm system beeped in the background, but Kate wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was set for wolf frequencies, not human or witch, as the case may be.
“The accident,” she murmured as Stray watched. Her eyes held the faraway look they had earlier. “They said I was thrown from the car.”
“You weren’t.”
Her next words held an urgency that broke his heart. “You saw her—the woman who saved me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the first one. The only one,” she murmured. “What does that mean?”
It meant so goddamned much that he couldn’t even begin to understand it. Kate continued.
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