Page 91 of Her Rabid Beasts

“Lyle.” I state his name softly. It’s a caress. It’s skin sliding against satin. I suddenly can’t remember why I’ve never touched him. Why we’ve never kissed. “I’ll tell you if you kiss me.”

His face changes. Pure agony flashes across it for the barest moment before it’s replaced by frustration.

“Stop it, Aurelia.” His jaw grinds forwards and backwards.

“Why?” I ask gently, completely enamoured by his jaw, his scent. His hands are firm on my arms and I crave more of it. Iwant his firm hands on every part of me. I want him to ravage me with the same intensity he’s using to deny me. I inhale deeply. “You smell so good.”

“It’s only natural for you to feel that way,” he says, grimacing. But I can’t help but notice his restraining hands loosen just a touch.

“I want to touch you,” I whisper, trying to implore him with my eyes.

“You cannot.” But those hands loosen a fraction further, and now they’re just holding me gently as he stares hard into my eyes.

His lips are a perfect shade of pink, not too thin, not too full, with a perfectly formed cupid’s bow. I suddenly need to run my tongue along it.

I can’t take my eyes off those lips as I say, “I thought you looked like an archangel the first time I saw you, did you know that? Handsome, and so stern.”

His hands drop off me. “What?” His voice is strained and taut, like he’s holding onto his own leash so tightly it might snap completely. But his power surrounds me then, like it did in the classroom that day during regina class. It strokes my arms, my shoulders. My neck.

Even the way he forms words is fascinating. Whether sharp or soft, his mouth is always perfect. My hand comes up to touch his lip and nothing but pleasure fills me at the soft feel of his skin.

Lyle goes so still, and I think he’s not breathing either. I can’t help but touch him more, allowing my fingers to brush the strong plane of his jaw, his chin, his throat. But something is missing there. I touch my own neck and hiss, the cut still stinging. I reach back for his throat, but he catches my hand in his own. A warning.

But I want to see it again. I’ve only seen it the once, and I need to see that it’s real.

I drop my mating mark shield. Casting it away like old clothes.

Celestial light pops to life on the side of his neck, neither gold nor silver. That skull with five beams of light. My anima caws with joy.

Lyle drops my hand and steps back, his eyes widening in a sort of horror mixed with awe. The corners of his eyes glisten.

“Oh Goddess,” I whisper. I’ve always thought the mark was beautiful. I’ve always thought Lyle was beautiful.

And both together? The vision is devastating.

I can’t help it. Gently, I step forward and put my arms around his neck. I go up on my tip-toes. Whether he wants it to or not, his power reaches for me.

“Lyle,” I whisper.

His face lowers, meeting mine. Our breaths mingle.

“We can’t, Aurelia,” he whispers.

I brush my lips across his. “I know.”

His arms come around my hips and I let out a whimper at the contact I’ve craved for so fucking long.

“We—”

But I don’t let him finish, sweeping my tongue over his lower lip, tasting that masculine arrogance. Licking away his reluctance.

He groans, crushing my body to his and, in a way that seems like the heavens have opened, captures my mouth with his own.

I invade his mouth with my tongue, burying my hands at the nape of his neck amongst all his loose, glorious hair.

He groans into my mouth and it’s a terrifying, dominant sound. He bites down on my upper lip before sweeping his tongue past my lips to claim me. I moan in my throat, my breath haggard and needy as I claw at his shoulders, his chest.

But whatever aggressive need I have, Lyle has more.

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