Page 52 of First Ritual

“You’re always hungry,” Wild snapped.

“Often, yes.”

“Your mystery,” Huxley interrupted. “What is it?”

I hummed at his tactic. I was meant to spill my secrets so they could dictate terms? “No. I’d like to hear more about why I should help Wild first.”

The four exchanged a leaden look. Their expressions flickered and shifted almost as if they were having a conversation. Which, they could be. The magic to achieve that between four magus was impossible, though.

“We’ve got to,” Wild snarled before taking the only chair on my side of the bed. Our knees were almost touching.

He rubbed his temples, then scowled my way. “The moment our magicks touched, I started to feel possessive of you.”

I nearly laughed. “Like a vampire?”

Corentin’s voice left the shadows. “What do you know about vampires?”

“Not the time,” Wild said. He focused on me again. “My magic never plays well with others. With three exceptions. Now, four. With you, it…”

I remembered. “It felt incredible.”

He winced again. My lips trembled against a grin. He really didn’t like anything that hinted at a relationship.

“Like we were meant to be. A destined union,” I continued, enjoying his resulting violent wince.

His face screwed up. “Union—"

“She likes playing with her food, man,” Sven muttered.

Wild glanced at me, and I batted my lashes.

Huxley thumbed to another page in his notebook. “Crushing pain in chest,” he read. “Possessiveness and sudden rage when another male draws too close to subject.”

I raised my hand. “Could you scratch out ‘subject’ and put in ‘queen’?”

Huxley almost smiled. That was twice now. Go me.

He went on, “Hunting behavior. Stalking. Urge to watch her sleep.”

What the fuck? My humor evaporated. “Please tell me you haven’t done that.”

Wild didn’t answer.

My mouth dried as Huxley went on, “Instinct to feed her food. To display prowess. To dominate her sexually.”

My brows shot up through half a mile of rock to catapult into the stratosphere and never be seen again.

The red was back across Wild’s jaw.

Where to begin processing that? I mean—wow—he’d been so open with his friends. Totally honest. That wasn’t something I’d expected of Wild. No wonder he didn’t want to talk about these symptoms at breakfast.

“That,” I started saying, then blew out a breath. “What do you want to do to me in the bedroom?”

Wild closed his eyes. “That’s your first question?”

“We’re all thinking it.”

Sven cleared his throat. “I’ve been wondering.”

---