The world became very small. A universe of her scent, the softness of her skin, the tantalizing slide of her hands under his shirt, and her lips on his neck.

His appetite to explore her, to finally follow those curves with his palms, to finally touch those places with his fingers, to finally press himself against her, was endless. And while his mind screamed at him that this was not the time or place, for every moment he intended to release her, the next came and she was still in his arms.

A chittering fear rattled under the surface of his joy, threatening and reminding.

She’d said no before.

She’d leaned in, then pulled away.

She’d been so unsure for so long… a piece of him was convinced that the moment he let her go she’d forget that she was his, and he’d lose her.

The animal in him urged him to take, to possess, to mark her with his scent and be utterly certain every male alive knew it. But the love in his heart said this was the first time for both of them, that it needed time and space and care and thought…

Then he was reminded there was no time, and frustration had his fingers clawing at the bark of the tree behind her until it crumbled, pattering over her shoulder and into her hair.

She sucked in a breath and leaned her head back, her throat half-bared. A snarl of possession ripped out of his throat, and Kyelle laughed with joy as she put a hand on his chest before he could dive for it.

”Soon,” she whispered, her gaze smoldering, her chest rising and falling. Her breasts peaked and the dusky nipples—dear god he was going to—

She cleared her throat and forced his chin up so he’d meet her eyes. “The City is closer,” she said in a husky tone he’d never heard before. It made his belly clench and his groin twitch. “But a lot is going on there today.” Her eyes got sly and he almost growled. “There’d be more privacy at my treehouse in the village…?” she let the question trail off, one brow up in a question.

Lhars took her mouth again, long and slow this time, tugging at her lower lip with his teeth as he pulled away reluctantly. “I vote for solitude,” he rasped.

Kyelle’s lips turned on one side and she put her hands to his chest and opened her mouth, he was fascinated, desperate to hear what she’d say, but he was suddenly aware of claws scratching at his mind. The instinct was there to ignore it, but everything that was happening—that was supposed to happen that day—crowded in and he growled—not in approval this time.

Kyelle was suddenly alarmed.

”What is it?”

”The wolves… they’re trying to talk to me,” he muttered.

Kyelle’s face fell, but she gave a resigned sigh and let her hand slide up his chest to cup his neck. “What are they saying? Is it important?”

Closing his eyes against the beauty of her, Lhars opened his mind.

WHAT?

It was Zev. Shit.

Brother, are you still in the village? Can you scent Kyelle? Sasha’s told the females about the trip and they’re freaking out. I think she could use some help. If you see Kyelle can you tell her to get back here?

Lhars groaned and let his forehead drop to Kyelle’s shoulder again. She held him there, whispering, asking what was wrong.

I’ll tell her, he sent back, each word torn from him and just as painful as yanking a healthy tooth.

”Lhars?”

”You have to go to the City,” he whispered, the words trailing off into a frustrated whine. “The females are upset and Sasha’s struggling with them.”

He felt her slump against him. “Damn.”

He took a deep breath, sucking in the scent of her then pushed back, bracing on the tree behind her, his arms steel, to meet her eyes.

”We’ll go,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll be there with you. I’ll wait… as long as it takes, Kyelle, I’ll wait. But please… please don’t—”

”I’m not going back, Lhars,” she said with a smile, cupping his face and leaning in to kiss him softly. “I’m sorry. I was confused and afraid, but I’m not anymore. You’re mine,” she whispered. “I’ll go figure this out and then… we’ll take some time.” She raised her eyebrows in that beautiful, promising smile and he kissed her again, fiercely. Then again, a little softer. Then again because he could, and because a big part of him was terrified it was the last time he’d be able to, that she was under some kind of spell from the drama of it all and as soon as she was out of his arms she’d come back to her senses and reject him again.

Their parting took far longer than it should have. But neither of them wanted to go, and so they kept falling back together.

Even when he finally stepped away from the tree and ordered her to shift and start flying, because if she didn’t he was going to take her there in the forest, and to hell with the consequences. But she giggled and made a great show of submitting—which clanged in his belly so hard it stopped his breath.

As she stepped past him, her hand trailing across his chest, then down his arm, she kept her eyes locked on his even when she had to turn to look over her shoulder. She hesitated as she was about to let go, squeezed his fingers, then sighed and dropped them, turning to take two steps then leap into the air, shifting as she did so, and dragging herself into the air.

Lhars watched her go, that whine piercing in his throat, but then he shook off his self-pity, shifted into his wolf, and ran.

He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, but he felt as alive and energized as he could ever remember.

He would get to her side as quickly as was possible, and then he would never leave it, he vowed.

Never.