Page 66 of Hidden

“I couldn’t sit there and watch him preen. Your vampire friend gave me the inspiration to try a different path.” Her jaw took on a stubborn angle. “And I haven’t forgotten what you said about rescue.”

“Let me give you some contacts,” Rafe said. “Use my name and they’ll send whatever help you need. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she said. “You’ve been with me all along.”

Lila’s stomach tightened with apprehension as Rafe listed names and places where she could look for help. He was opening the door to his world, giving her permission to call in allies and favors. It was an enormous act of trust.

Had she earned it? Rafe’s kin had been murdered. He’d been chained. If anyone had the right to bite back, it was her wolf. And yet he had her back. Even by meeting her here, he was taking a monumental risk.

They had stopped in a small clearing where the ancient cedars soared overhead, watchful and whispering. Moonlight filtered through the trees, just bright enough for fae sight to make out Rafe’s features. She stepped closer, feeling his warmth like a beacon against the cool night air.

Why was he taking this risk for her? Yes, he’d given his reasons when they’d bargained as mistress and slave, but that conversation had crumbled away like so much dry leather. A new pact had formed in its place, one based on their shared need for answers. But this moment held something else, too. Something earthy, honest, and simple. He wanted her—not for her family or position or magic, but because she was Lila.

The knowledge slid through her veins like sun-warmed honey. She’d done nothing to earn his regard beyond following her own conscience, and that made it all the sweeter. All that lay between them was truth and raw attraction.

She cupped his cheek with her palm, meeting his eyes. A giddy sensation swooped low in her belly, making her catch her breath.

“What?” he asked, sliding one hand to the small of her back.

“Every female should know what it is to be desired by a wolf.”

A crooked smile twisted his mouth. “Maybe, maybe not. We’re an acquired taste.”

She should be running, not standing and talking. Certainly not kissing.

And yet she was, wholeheartedly. He tasted wild, as if the night wind sang in his blood. His rough cheeks burned against her skin, an arousing counterpoint to the softness of his lips. The giddy feeling in her belly settled into a molten heat.

Barely breaking the kiss, Lila found the buttons of his uniform jacket and unfastened them, then set to work on the shirt beneath. She’d sensed his body heat before, but now her fingers brushed the warm skin of his chest. It made her suddenly aware of how flimsy her gown was, how unsuited to the cold woods—and how welcoming his warmth would be along every inch of her flesh.

Lila ran her hands beneath his shirt, stroking the hard muscle. His heart beneath her fingers, a drumbeat of desire that caught her own pulse in its thrall. Her gown was no barrier to the hard thrust of his arousal against her. She sank into the thrumming heat of his caress, leaving no air between them. No space. No distance to bridge.

She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, leaving a trail of kisses and tasting salty flesh. Rafe made a noise low in his throat. She felt the vibration beneath her tongue and understood, for an instant, the Undead’s erotic need to bite. All at once she wanted—no needed—to be one with him, his flesh and hers united.

He slid the frothy outer gown from her shoulders, letting the fine fabric drift to the forest floor like an exotic bird coming to roost. Rafe murmured something too low and soft to be words. An exclamation or a curse—it was all the same. Lila didn’t need words to understand his meaning. Beneath the gown was nothing more than a sleeveless shift of moonlight silk, a whisper of modesty. Beneath that was all her.

Rafe swept her from her feet with careless strength, carrying her deep into the trees. A gust of wind sent the branches rustling, as if the night itself inhaled with anticipation. When Rafe set her down, Lila realized her shoes were gone. She’d lost them but couldn’t recall where or when and didn’t much care. Her toes dug into the soft loam, sensing the dance of roots beneath. Branches dipped around them, so huge they swept the forest floor. It was private here, thick moss and needles drifted inches deep.

Rafe pulled her close, his hands finding the hem of her shift and inching it upward. Lila rose on her tiptoes pressing her body tight to his.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, voice as hushed as the forest around them.

“Yes.” She said it without thinking, without hesitation. There would be no hiding this from other fae—not without the subtlest of magics—but she didn’t care. She wanted the world to know the choices she’d made. Choices were all she had, and this one came from deep inside her.

With the practiced efficiency of shifters, Rafe had shed his clothes. She slid the straps of her shift from her shoulders and let it drop. Her nipples immediately hardened against the cold. He took her left breast in his mouth, gently laving the tip with his tongue. The shock of heat jolted her, drawing a breathy cry from her throat. The sound turned to a moan as he sucked harder, turning the warmth to exquisite pressure. When he finally released her, she barely noticed the cold again. The beat of her enflamed pulse threatened to ignite her core.

He tasted the other breast, the sensation spearing through her until her legs were weak and trembling. Nothing he did was by halves. His scent, musky and wild, grew stronger as they touched. He nipped her neck, the sharp pain mixing so close to pleasure it nearly pushed her over the brink.

He’s marked me. She should have been affronted, but just then it seemed sexy as hell.

Lila pulled him down to the soft, mossy ground. Both of them were growing impatient. But then Rafe paused, pushing the hair from her face and studying her, amber wolf-light sparking in his eyes.

“You’re impossibly beautiful,” he whispered. “Your hair is the color of the moonlight. Your skin shines like you’ve bathed in the stars.”

And when you think I’m not looking, you let down your shield. Right then, your eyes were the saddest I’ve ever known. But she didn’t say it. Her kind were responsible for much of that sorrow, and yet he had let her past his defenses. If only half her tribe had that much spirit.

He bent to kiss the mark he’d made on her neck, running his tongue over the wound. She moaned, her neck arching to expose her throat. A low rumble sounded in his chest, responding to the primal gesture of surrender.

With new urgency, he worked his way over her body. She responded in kind, rising to meet the hard swell of his chest, raking her nails over the breadth of his shoulders and down the narrowing flare to his hips. Every angle of his form was hard and hot and thickly muscled. If she was a creature of the forest, he was the untamed life that dwelled inside it.

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