Page 87 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

My cock hardens at the thought, at the sheerneedof it.

I drag in a breath, trying to steady myself, but it's impossible with her so close. My grip tightens on her waist, just a fraction. She gasps, her body shuddering, and it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

She wants this.She wants me.

Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted, her body trembling against mine. Like she's barely holding herself back. Like all she wants to do is?—

A growl rumbles in my chest. My fingers flex on her waist.

"Elara," I rasp. I don't even know what I'm asking for. Permission? Control? Or justher.

She shudders, andgods,her scent—sweet, dark, intoxicating—thickens in the air, flooding my lungs, my mind.

Then, slowly, carefully, she leans in. Her lips brush my jaw, soft and burning all at once. A single, fleeting touch. A taste.

I snap.

My mouth crashes against hers, teeth and heat and desperation. She gasps, but she doesn't pull away. No—sheleans into me,her fingers twisting in my hair, pulling me closer.

I grip her hips, drag her against me, let her feel how hard I am for her. She whimpers against my lips, and the sound makes my vision go dark with need.

I want her. I need her.Now.

I break the kiss, panting, my forehead pressed against hers. She looks up at me, her lips swollen, her breathing uneven.

For a moment, we don't move.

Then—

A distant howl cuts through the haze.

Reality slams back into place.

We don't have time for this.

I let go.

She pulls back too fast, too abruptly, like she's just realized what almost happened.

For a moment, she doesn't say anything. Then she swallows hard, nods. "We have to go."

I nod back, but something in me knows—whatever this is between us, whatever almost happened—it's not over.

Not even close.

The fight rages on as we re-enter the battlefield. Once she's sure that I'm fine—my wounds have already begun to feel better—Elara goes back into her vicious mode, ready to tear through any attackers.

She doesn't hesitate.

One moment, she's human, fierce and untouchable. The next, her body shifts, bones snapping, muscles stretching, reforming. It's seamless, almost beautiful, the way her human frame melts into something lethal, somethingmore.

Her wolf form takes over with fluid ease.

She's magnificent.

Her coat is a deep, midnight black, catching the flickering torchlight like an omen of death. Her eyes burn, liquid gold, reflecting the battlefield in every wicked detail. Power coils in her frame, raw and deadly, and when she lunges, she moves like she wasbornfor this.

She tears through loyalists with a brutal efficiency that's mesmerizing.

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