Savage Urges by Suzanne Wright

looking pretty and approving, and smelling so damn good. That wild scent had kept his cock hard and heavy all day. “I can’t see Zac tomorrow.” He was meeting with Myles’s pack mates. “But I’ll arrange something for the day after.”
    Makenna nodded. “Text him with the specifics when you have them.”
    She turned away, and Ryan found that he couldn’t let her go yet. “Farrah Grove.”
    Slowly twirling to face him, she searched her memory for the name and came up blank. “Should I know her?”
    “She left her pack when she was twelve. Some say she vanished, some say she ran away. She fits your description.”
    “Oh, I see.” He thought she could be Farrah. Nope. There were a lot of things Makenna didn’t know about her past, but she knew enough to be certain that she wasn’t Farrah Grove—particularly since she was younger than twelve when she left her pack. “You think I’m her?”
    Actually, now that she was in front of him . . . no, Ryan didn’t. She didn’t look like a “Farrah.” She looked like . . . well, a “Makenna.” “If you’re not Farrah Grove, who are you?”
    “There are these things—you might not have heard of them—they’re called ‘boundaries.’ That means that if there are things I don’t want to share, you need to respect that. And let’s not forget that it ain’t your business, White Fang.”
    Before he knew it, his hand had shot out and fisted in her hair. Tugging her close, he said, “You are my business.” That she’d say differently . . . it offended some part of him. The same part of him was urging Ryan to taste and bite her mouth.
    Makenna swallowed hard, disturbingly turned on rather than pissed by his dominant, possessive hold. “You should let go.”
    “Why? I want you.” Ryan almost winced at the gruff words. He probably shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that, but he’d never been smooth. Still . . . “And you want me.” She looked ready to deny it, so he tightened his grip on her hair. “It’s in your scent, so don’t lie to me.”
    “My body wants you. That doesn’t mean that I do.”
    He spoke against her mouth. “I said, don’t lie to me.” Punishingly, he bit her lip. Her mouth opened on a shocked gasp, and he drove his tongue inside. Fuck, her taste was as addictive as her scent. Sweet and almost bubbly, like sparkling Champagne. Unable to get enough of her, he ate at her mouth, sipping, licking, nipping, and biting hard enough to leave prints of his teeth on her lower lip. His wolf growled his approval at the mark as Ryan soothingly laved it with his tongue.
    “You bit me,” said Makenna in pure wonder, her heartbeat racing.
    “I did.” As he stared down at that mark, masculine satisfaction thrummed through his veins, filled every part of him, and settled into every cell and bone. And that was when he knew the truth. There was no denying it, because nothing else made sense. Nothing.
    Ryan didn’t question his thoughts, actions, or urges. But it didn’t take self-reflection to conclude that this female was his true mate.
    “Mate” . . . the word felt right to both him and his wolf. Like a puzzle piece sliding into place.
    It would explain all the primal feelings that had been taunting Ryan since he first caught her scent: the urge to possess and own, the right to protect and defend, and the obsessive hunger that just kept building and building. It didn’t matter that Ryan couldn’t feel the tug of the mating bond. The facts spoke for themselves.
    “Makenna . . .” But he didn’t have the words to explain his thoughts. Hell, he never did. Instinct told him that blurting out his belief with his usual lack of tact wouldn’t work out well. He needed to think about this. He needed to come to her with the right words, make a case she couldn’t argue against . . . because she would argue against it. Instinct told him that too.
    He took a moment to breathe her in, to take that scent deep into his lungs.