Page 36 of Forbid Me

My shoulders slumped, but as they did, they curled around Stella. She inhaled, her lips parting in a quiet gasp. The intake of air cooled the vulnerable spot on my neck. I ached for her to bite down there.

Her scent was all over me. I wanted her mark on me, too. I had been claimed body, mind, and soul by her. There wasn't an inch of me that this woman—this goddess—didn't own. Instead of biting me, she planted a lingering kiss at my pulse point.

The claws came out then. There was the sound of fabric beingripped. Looking down, I saw that the bottom of her blouse was in shreds. There was a tint of red on the pink—her blood.

I let go, holding my hands up in surrender. My fingertips were tinged with the evidence of my desire. "I'm sorry, Stella."

She shrugged, waving a hand over the ruined fabric. "I can fix it."

But she couldn't. The shredded, unmendable thing wasn't her clothing. It was me. "I don't deserve you."

Stella leaned into me. Her arms wrapped around my neck, the fingers of one hand finding my nape. She kneaded the skin she found there. I'd seen this kind of behavior between parents and cubs, pack mates, and mated pairs alike. It was a sign of affection, of ownership. The feeling of it almost robbed me of my words. And then her words robbed me of all sense.

"I deserve you. I deserve a man who fights for me. A man who is honest with me even if the truth might hurt me."

"When did I hurt you?"

"You hurt me every time you try to put distance between us. Every time you try to push me away."

My claws came out again. I cursed as another rip of fabric rent the air. I couldn't take care of this woman's clothes. How could I be expected to take care of her heart?

"Fate has brought us together for a reason," she went on, waving her hand once again over the torn fabric, making it look like new. "I can mend my clothes. I can't mend a broken heart if you reject me."

"Fate wouldn't be so cruel a to pair a goddess like you with a man like me."

"I've dated criminals, liars, cheats, and users. You can't be any worse than?—"

"How about a murderer?"

Her gulp was audible. Her right eye twitched as she studied me. That twitch was only for a second before her gaze steadied again. "You said you worked for the king as head of his security. You killed as part of your job?"

"My first kill was before the king took pity on me."

Now her claws dug into my shirt. It was her human nails. The pricks felt like her panther refusing to let go.

I took a deep breath, the weight of my past heavy on my shoulders. I opened my mouth and said the words as fast as I could before I lost my nerve. "When I was a cub, I killed my brother."

Her claws released my shirt. The loss of that tiny pinprick of pain felt like the exact opposite of relief. Her hands hovered in front of my heart. The organ thumped hard against my chest to reach its mistress.

"He was the runt, and I... I was stronger."

"The two of you fought?"

"No, never. He was my brother, my twin. I never lifted a hand to him."

"Then… how?"

"I was greedy and growing so fast. I suckled all of my mother's milk, leaving nothing behind for him."

The confession felt like a wound reopening, raw and painful. I remembered the sight of my brother's frail form. I'd only seen the color of his eyes a few times when they'd been open. They were a dull rust to my vibrant gold.

"You're a shifter. Your mother could have given him other sustenance."

Stella was still trying to rationalize my actions, still trying to make me out to be a hero. She refused to see the villain that I was.

"We were born in our panther form. He couldn't shift into a human. He was too weak. He wouldn't take any other form of sustenance. And he died. It was all my fault."

"You were a baby, barely cognizant. It was not your fault. He had two grown, adult parents."

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