Page 63 of Ranger's Justice

But his eyes—his eyes give him away.

A warm, golden hue, swirling with something deeper than possession, something more than hunger. A silent battle rages there, a war between instinct and restraint, between the man and the wolf. And for once, I don’t think either of them knows what to make of me.

I trace the mark on my neck with deliberate slowness, my fingers brushing the sensitive skin, still raw, still tingling. The sensation sends a shiver straight through me, an unfamiliar warmth pooling low in my belly. My body is different now—I feel different. I don’t have words for it yet, don’t fully understand it, but I know it. I belong to him.

The realization should send me spiraling, should have me clawing at my own skin in some desperate attempt to take back control, or perhaps at him for taking it away from me. But I can’t seem to work up the anger to do either. In this moment, with the scent of him still clinging to my skin and the wound of his teeth still seared into my flesh, I don’t want control.

I want him.

Rush moves slightly, his nostrils flaring, as if he can smell my thoughts. His pupils dilate, his body tightening in that barely leashed way that makes something hot curl low in my belly. He might not know what to make of me, but his wolf sure as hell knows what it wants.

I swallow hard, pressing my thumb against the bite, watching the way his jaw ticks when I do it.

“So,” I murmur, letting my voice draw out the tension between us, “you going to tell me what happens now, or do I have to guess?”

His gaze flicks from my fingers to my face, unreadable, calculating. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, before he exhales sharply and scrubs a hand down his face.

“You should fight this.” His voice is low, gravel rough, like the words scrape against his throat on the way out. “You should be pissed as hell.”

I arch an eyebrow, dragging my fingers away from the mark to rest in my lap. “Should I?”

Rush’s frown deepens, like he’s waiting for the explosion, waiting for me to come at him with every ounce of the fire I had before. And honestly? I could. I should. But I won’t.

Not because I don’t have my own damn mind, but because there’s no point in fighting something that’s already done, something I already know is true.

I feel it, deep in my bones. A pull, a thread linking me to him, woven into something I don’t understand yet but know in the way I know how to breathe.

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “I don’t think I want to fight it. I think I’d rather float.”

His entire body goes still. I can feel his wolf snapping to attention like it can’t believe what it just heard. For the first time since I met him, Rush looks surprised. And damn if I don’t love that.

He leans in, his fingers twitching at his sides, like he’s debating whether to touch me, whether I’ll bolt if he does. I don’t move. A charged, electric current, humming with something thick and primal, fills the air between us. I can feel the weight of his gaze as it drags over me, assessing, searching.

“You’re not scared,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.

I consider his statement. “No. Not in the least.”

His throat works as he swallows, and I catch the barest flicker of emotion before he tamps it down. “Maybe you should be.”

I tilt my head, watching the way his shoulders flex, the way his breathing has gone deep and measured, as if he’s trying to put space between himself and whatever is running wild in his head.

I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe I should be, but then again, maybe not. But why?” I challenge softly. “Because you’re a wolf? Because you bit me?”

His hands curl into fists. “Because this is permanent, Cassidy.” His voice drops, rough and edged with something that sounds dangerously close to fear. “You don’t get to undo this.”

A slow, wicked heat unfurls inside me. Not fear. Not regret. Need. I don’t know if it’s the bond or if it’s just him, but I do know this—I don’t want to undo it. My lips curve into a grin. I am enjoying this far too much. “What makes you think I want to?”

Rush sucks in a sharp breath, his control slipping just enough for his wolf to bleed through, turning his golden eyes molten with heat. Like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I feel it more than see it—the raw, unrelenting need clawing at him, tearing through every bit of logic and reason that might have kept him in check. He leans in, caging me within the SUV without ever laying a hand on me. His breath is hot against my skin, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“You really think you can handle this?”

I meet his gaze, feeling something dark and reckless twist inside me. “What do you say we find out?”

For a moment, neither of us moves, the desert heat is pressing in around us, the only sound the steady, heavy cadence of our breathing.

Then Rush exhales sharply, his mouth curving into something that isn’t quite a smile.

“Fuck, Cassidy,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You are a lot of trouble.”

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