Page 64 of Craved By a Wolf

The one he had been waiting for all his life.

His brow furrowed as he gazed down at her, feeling as if he was standing on a dangerous precipice as he waited to see what she would do. Spurn him again or accept him? One meant death and the other salvation.

Her hesitation cut at him, cleaving a hole in his heart, and all the hope he had mustered bled from him as he realised this was a fight he couldn’t win. Resignation swept through him, acceptance on its heels, and he nodded slightly, silently letting her know that he understood when he didn’t.

He stepped back from her and it was the hardest thing he had ever done.

Because he was letting her go.

He tried to smile at how much he had changed, how dancing with death had moulded him into a better male and opened his eyes, and how it was all for nothing. He still wasn’t going to get what he wanted, and part of him was fine with that now.

Because he would sooner die than force her to do something she didn’t want.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his throat tight, and his eyes misted. “For everything.”

He blew out his breath and turned away.

Hella’s little hand fisted his shirt, gripping it so tightly he couldn’t move another inch.

“MacKinnon,” she murmured.

He looked at her, sure she only wanted to bid him goodbye.

She pulled him down, cupped his nape with her other hand, and kissed him.

Chapter 20

Hella was sure this was a mistake, but if it was, she would own it, because she was damned if she was going to let MacKinnon walk out of the door and to his doom. She liked him. Fine, she more than liked him. And yes, it might have taken the sight of him so worn down and close to the edge, and the thought of never seeing him again to open her eyes, but they were open now.

Better late than never.

He angled his head and kissed her back, seizing control of it as he pressed closer to her, distracting her with how good the heat of his body felt against hers. She clutched his shirt in both hands, clinging to his shoulders as she kissed him, as their tongues duelled and she fought him for dominance. Something he apparently liked because he grabbed her waist and dragged her against him, a low groan escaping his lips as they battled hers.

On a toe-curling growl, he banded his arms around her and lifted her, twisting with her at the same time. Her backside hit the tabletop and his hands dropped to her skirts, and she gasped as the sound of material ripping filled the thick silence. Cool air washed across her overheating skin from her ankle to her hip and she shoved her hands against his chest, pushing him back and breaking the kiss.

“This is my one boring dress.” Her eyes widened when she saw it wasn’t one tear in the black cotton either.

It was in tatters, shredded by his claws.

He flicked her an apologetic look, but hunger soon overwhelmed it, darkening his eyes again, and it was like looking at a different person. He breathed harder as his irises turned golden, his handsome features sharpening as he raked a look over her and flexed his claws, the wicked heat in his gaze telling her he was considering ripping the rest of the dress off her to get to what he wanted.

What he needed.

“MacKinnon,” she whispered, hoping the sound of his name calmed him as it had before.

This time, he growled and bared his fangs and grabbed her hips, pressing the tips of his claws into her flesh in a way that was far too possessive. He swooped on her mouth, seizing it in a kiss that was rough and demanding as he pressed her backwards.

Hella turned her head away from him and he snapped fangs close to her cheek.

Admonishing her.

“MacKinnon,” she snapped back at him and grabbed his wrists, funnelling a little spell into him through them.

He jerked backwards, swift to release her as he got a taste of lightning in his veins. He cast her a furious look and came to tower over her, his back rod-straight and his eyes darker than she had ever seen them. He looked awfully as if he was considering how to punish her for denying him.

He was right. This wasn’t like him. This was the curse. It was driving him to this, making him so desperate to survive and to regain his strength that he would do anything, and deep in her heart she knew he would hate himself if he let it control him and he ended up hurting her.

“Hold still.” She lifted her hands and when he went to grab them, she clucked her tongue. “Do not move or this spell will go haywire and you’ll probably die.”

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