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No one had ever asked her before. As wonderful as it might be to have a say, the prospect terrified her. Action led to reaction, and Farras didn’t pull his punches.

She drew away from Rafe, missing the solid feel of him the instant she straightened. But she’d be a fool to listen to him, however sweet his words might be. He was her prisoner, not her friend, and as likely as not to betray her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “This is not your problem.”

“No, it’s not.”

The frank answer caught her off guard. “Well?—”

“I understand, though,” he said, interrupting her. “The games of power. The obligation to family, even when that bond can hurt.”

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

“My father is a difficult Alpha,” he went on. “When we went hunting, he’d set traps. Not for our prey, but for me and my friends. They were no joke—a wolf could lose a paw or break bones. If we fell into them, he’d call us stupid and weak. If we escaped them, he’d accuse us of cheating.”

Rafe was trying to build a bridge between them, to show they had something in common. It was an old tactic to breed trust, but it made Lila feel a little less alone.

“What did you do?”

“When I got old enough, I left home just to put an end to the growling.” Rafe gave a short, bitter laugh.

“What are you saying?” His tale sounded awful, and she wasn’t sure of the point.

“The Alpha, my father, wanted to scare off the next generation. If their confidence was broken, they would never challenge him.” Rafe shrugged. “All too often, power is fear in disguise. The more you have, the more you fear it will be taken. The only way to keep it is to make the other guy fear you more.”

“What do you do?”

“Refuse to play the game.”

Lila shook her head. He might talk about walking away, but he was an Alpha, too. Maybe not by title, but that dominant spark couldn’t be lost or won. She would put down money that—given the chance—he’d attract a pack of his own.

“What about duty?” she asked with a tinge of sarcasm. “What about protecting the people you love? Isn’t that why you’re here? You came to save the day?”

Rafe pulled a face. “I didn’t say running was the final answer. It was all I could think of at the time. I’m not perfect.”

But he was, in too many ways. Lila felt easy beside him, utterly safe. That wasn’t wise. Nor was the sweet churn she felt in her belly when she studied his form. Unlike a fae, the werewolf had a raw beauty that drew her in a way no perfection could.

Maybe that was why she didn’t resist when his lips brushed her hair, then her cheek, and finally her mouth. She froze, her core suddenly weightless with surprise and desire. It left her giddy enough that she bunched her fists in his shirtfront, holding on before she fell.

He was warm—hotter than human or fae. His presence engulfed her, filling her senses as she leaned into the kiss, instinct taking over. His tongue slid against hers, demanding and definitely other. It was a taste she’d longed for without knowing it existed, wild and unapologetically male. Yearning thrilled through her like a kindling fire.

They broke the kiss just long enough to change angles, just long enough that she slid her arms around his neck. The move brought them closer, body to body, crushing her breasts against the wall of his chest. She gasped, aroused and sensitized as he stroked the curve of her back, then lower. He seemed to be trying different techniques, keeping what made her squirm with pleasure and discarding the rest.

Lila was acutely aware of the bed. It would be easy to discard every inhibition, to let emotion run away. Whether sincere or not, Rafe made her feel worthy of affection. That was a drug more addictive than any potion or pill.

A door slammed in the corridor. Lila jumped back, stumbling and catching herself on the footboard of the bed. Rafe moved to steady her, but she waved him away, glancing nervously at the bedroom door. Her hand went to her mouth, conscious her lips had to be swollen from such a bruising kiss.

Yes, she’d startled like a guilty teenager, but consorting with a prisoner was a deadly offence. She wished she hadn’t seen the look of hurt in Rafe’s eyes, but that was swept away by a rush of alarm as the door flew open.

CHAPTER 17

As she turned, Lila caught sight of herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers. The carved and gilded frame was serenely elegant; she was not. The mussed hair and reddened lips screamed guilt. Reflexively, she pressed her palms to her cheeks to cool them. That made her look like a panicked maiden in a silent movie. She jerked her hands away in disgust.

Beside her, Rafe tugged his shirt into place and picked up the remaining linens, barely stifling an amused smirk. Lila refused to return his sidelong glance.

Ademar entered, this time leaning on a cane of polished black wood wrapped in silver filigree. It had the ivy and acorn pattern from their family coat of arms and looked new.

“There you are,” her brother said, glancing from her to Rafe and back. “I find you together again.”

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