I lean in, and she tips her chin up so she can meet my kiss. That simple gesture nearly undoes me. My wolf rears its head, and what I intended as a gentle peck transforms into a scorching melding of our lips.
As I capture Talia’s mouth, a needy, breathless sound escapes her, sending a bolt of lust straight to my groin. Her hand slips to my chest, her lips part to welcome me, and it’s all I can do not to outright plunder the tart heat within.
It’s hard to believe this is only the third time we’d ever kissed. As I tug her closer, every inch of her body feels familiar; every breathy noise falls into harmony with the pounding of my pulse. I’ve watched her; I’ve longed for her; I know her. And she embraces that yearning with all she is.
I want to hoist her onto the island and bury myself completely in the arousal that’s already lacing the air, want to bring her gasping to a climax ten times as ecstatic as the one she found with my guidance in the basement sauna pool. Want to feel her come apart around me, clutching me and arching against me, every fear and worry forgotten.
Skies above, how I want it.
But as I let my tongue delve between her lips, as hers flicks out to tease over it, a tremor runs through her frame. Her fingers grasp at my shirt as if she needs to hold onto something or she’ll be swept away. The eagerness doesn’t fade from her kiss, but my lust recedes at the reminder of how new this sort of encounter is for her. Two weeks ago, she hardly knew what pleasure she could bring to her body on her own.
If I follow my hunger to its intended end, she might go along with it, caught up in the sensations I’m provoking within her—but will she be happy afterward? How can she know how much she wants if she’s too overwhelmed to consider that question?
I will not be like— I will not use her. I won’t let my wants trample over hers, human as she is. Until she’s had more space to decide—until she’s sure of what this all means—until I’m sure I can be everything she needs—
I brace my hand against the edge of the island behind her and ease back just a few inches. Talia’s pale green eyes glow with desire, her cheeks flushed, her lips darkened by the kiss. I swallow hard, having to master myself all over again.
“I’d love to keep doing this all day, Sweetness,” I murmur, brushing the lightest of pecks to her forehead. “But I did promise you a meal.”
From her smile, I’ve managed not to make my retreat feel like a rejection. “Better not to find myself among three starving wolves?” she teases, and glances past me to the counter. “How long will the quails take in the oven?”
“Twenty minutes or so.”
“I should probably take the opportunity to get some clean clothes on, then. If I’m going to be ‘lady’ of the keep, I’d better at least kind of look the part.” She tugs at her shirt, which is rumpled from being slept in but doesn’t at all detract from her charm. I force myself to step farther back so she can slide off the stool. A very large piece of me is gnashing its teeth in self-reproach for not having taken the opportunity to strip her of those clothes myself.
I watch her slip out of the room, so nimble now despite the faint limp the foot brace Sylas made for her can’t quite correct, and then turn to my baking. As I set the trays in the oven, my mind is still on Talia, the heat of our encounter thrumming on through my veins, a more ardent warmth wrapping around my heart.
I’ve never felt this all-consuming adoration for anyone before. There hasn’t been anyone in our diminished pack who roused enough attraction for me to think it was worth courting them and risking the tensions that might follow if my interest dwindled. When I’ve passed the fringes of the Mists into the human world to blow off more carnal sorts of steam, I’ve always gone to women who make a job of it, who I can compensate with money with no chance of misunderstandings about the encounter leading to more.
What am I supposed to do with so much feeling? If I offer it all up to Talia in a deluge of emotion, will she welcome that or shy away from the implicit hope of receiving just as much in return?
Those questions leave me restless, but I don’t know where to find the answers. All I do know is I have to show her she’s so much more to me than an object to lust and fight over. There’s got to be more I can do than cook for her, kiss her, and unleash my rage when an immediate threat appears.
A vague but forceful sense of resolve grips me. As the scent of roasting quail wafts into the air, I head upstairs to Sylas’s study.
“Come in, August,” he answers at my knock. Does his deadened eye give him a glimpse of who lies on the other side, or does he know us well enough to differentiate the sound of our knuckles? That seems like an impertinent question to ask.
When I step inside, shutting the door behind me, my lord is at his desk, frowning at a map and a page of notes set across it. He rests his elbows on the corners of the map and looks up at me expectantly. “I assume you’re not here simply to summon me to lunch.”
His unshakeable aura of measured authority always sends me back to the days when I hadn’t yet come of age to join his cadre at all and he oversaw much of my education. Probably because nearly a century later, that level of studied control still eludes me. But I have plenty of other skills to compensate—at least, I’d like to think so.
I square my shoulders to better look the part of cadre-chosen. “I know my main duty has been defending the pack from physical threats as they come up, but I’d like to become more involved—in the planning and strategizing. It might not be my greatest strength, but I’m sure I have enough experience by now to contribute something, and you and Whitt have so much more on your plates now with Kellan gone.”
Sylas considers me with a contemplative expression. I suspect he can guess that this proposal has been driven at least partly by my desire to protect Talia in every way I can. I did brawl with him the other day to secure a better fate for her. He seemed to respect the show of commitment even as he rebuked me for the insubordination, though. It might work in my favor more than against it.
“Did you have anything particular in mind?” he asks.
I came up here in such a rush I hadn’t taken the time to think that through. “Well, I—I’m not sure what you and Whitt have already discussed or how you’d want to approach the situation with Aerik. But I’m at your disposal. And if I could be included in discussions of those strategies from now on, I’d happily share my views.”
“Fair enough. Perhaps I should have brought you into them sooner.” Sylas rubs his temple, the subtlest sign of the burden he’s carrying as lord. I might have gotten frustrated with him over his plans for Talia before, but I can only imagine how difficult he’s found this balancing act, weighing the needs of the pack against her safety. He saw a way through, as difficult as it might make our lives going forward, and that’s why I’d throw myself into any fray in front of him.
After another moment’s thought, he motions to the wall in the direction of the pack houses. “You are my general of sorts. There’s a chance this dispute could escalate into a battle. With most of our warriors at the border, we need every pack member as prepared to defend what’s ours as they can be, regardless of age or physical prowess. Let them know that tomorrow you’ll begin training them.”