His feet bare.
His low-slung jeans made a noise as they rode low on his hips and pressed against his tan skin while he crossed the room.
I licked my lips and finally gained enough courage to speak. “So… you, uh… still hungry?”
“It’s not funny.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and cursed.
I lifted a shoulder, “It’s sort of funny. Who knew wolves could bite like that?”
He exhaled and bit down on his lower lip so hard it turned white, and then his eyes were on my neck darting back and forth with uncertainty. “Let me heal you.”
“It’s nothing.” I covered the place with my hand where he’d bitten me and came back with more blood staining my fingertips. “I’ve survived worse.”
“I doubt it.” He leaned forward, his massive body hovering over me. “Please, Serenity, let me fix this.”
His plea hung heavy between us.
There would be no fixing what had been done.
I leaned forward and pulled my hair over my left shoulder, bravely exposing my gaping wound to his lust-crazed eyes.
Bad idea?
Maybe.
But I stupidly trusted him.
Maybe it was the link between us; maybe I was just as sucker for deep brown eyes that flickered to blue and pierced the air with sensuality unmatched by anyone I’d ever met.
Mason leaned forward, his face inches from mine.
Maybe that was what had gotten me in this predicament in the first place, my inability to separate the fact that he was both beast and man — and I was easy prey.
His tongue very tentatively reached out and slid across the skin near my collarbone and then higher and higher, and with a moan, he swept over the wound. I felt my skin knit together, fuse from his healing abilities, and when the pain finally subsided, he rested his head on my shoulder.
I ran my fingers through his hair while he picked up my free hand and licked a cut I hadn’t realized I had.
His tongue felt smooth against my skin. I immediately wanted it in my mouth, pressed against every inch of my body — even the parts that didn’t need healing.
With a shudder, I pulled my hand away.
He lifted his head, eyes so blue they reminded me of ice.
I saw the truth in his eyes. I saw the sentence he didn’t want to utter. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended, hurt, both? I bit down on my lip, took a gulp of air into my lungs, and whispered, “We’re mates.”
I figured if I said it aloud, it would sound less terrifying.
It wasn’t.
He was a council member.
An immortal king.
I was a part-time college student with no purpose and no friends outside of school and the small coffee shop I frequented where Mike, my barista, added extra espresso into my mochas with a side of blood.
I kept people at arm’s length.
Because I was afraid that if they got close, the truth would slap me in the face.