Page 49 of When Two Worlds Collide

“Yes.”

This kiss is nothing like our first—no violence, no battle for dominance. This is surrender. Mutual destruction. We both know exactly what we’re doing, what lines we’re crossing, what we’re risking.

And we’re too exhausted from fighting it to care.

His mouth claims mine with desperate hunger, weeks of denial pouring into this moment. I moan into the kiss, my body recognizing its mate with painful relief. My hands tangle in his hair as he backs me against my desk, lifting me onto its surface.

“We can’t do this again,” I gasp when he moves to my throat, finding the spot where he almost marked me that night in his tent. “Last time almost destroyed your authority. The questions, the suspicions?—”

“Let them question.” He bites me down and I see stars. “I’m tired of pretending you’re just another diplomat.”

My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. “The council?—”

“Fuck the council.” His hands slide under my formal jacket. “Fuck the pack. Fuck everyone who keeps us apart.”

The raw honesty breaks something in me. “I can’t be your mate,” I sob even as I arch into his touch. “I can’t give up everything I am.”

“I know.” He kisses me again, softer now, tasting the salt of tears I didn’t realize were falling. “I know, wildfire. Neither can I.”

The pet name—when did he start thinking of me that way?—shatters my last defense. We’re both breathing hard, hands roaming, bodies pressed together like we can merge through sheer will.

Then footsteps in the corridor. Reality crashes back.

I shove him away, sliding off the desk on unsteady legs. We stand apart, chests heaving, clothes disheveled, the taste of each other making everything worse.

“This changes nothing,” I lie, straightening my jacket with shaking hands.

“It changes everything.” His voice is rough, wrecked. “Just like last time.”

“Last time we pretended it didn’t happen.”

“And how did that work?” He laughs bitterly. “I still feel your claws on my back. Still hear you calling my name. Still wake up reaching for you.”

“Stop.” I wrap my arms around myself. “Please. Just... stop.”

The footsteps pass by. We’re alone again, but the spell is broken.

“I should go,” I whisper, unable to meet his eyes.

“You always run.” There’s no accusation in it, just tired acceptance. “Just like that night.”

“Because staying means destroying everything.” I finally look at him—hair wild from my hands, lips swollen, eyesdark with the same desperate hunger eating me alive. “Your pack. My position. The peace we’re building.”

“I know.” He turns toward the door, then pauses. “But Ember? We can’t keep denying this. The bond won’t let us. We’re dying by degrees.”

He leaves before I can respond. I sink into my chair, touching my lips, feeling the echo of his mouth on mine.

We’ve crossed the line again. And this time, with the mate bond screaming for completion, I don’t know if we’re strong enough to keep running from what we both need.

11

ZANE

Iremain alone in Ember’s office, the door still vibrating from her abrupt departure. Her scent surrounds me—fire and spice with undertones of panic—filling the small space until each breath scorches my lungs. The wolf inside me howls at her absence, demanding I pursue.

Resist. The command echoes in my mind, but my body refuses to obey.

I’ve faced alpha challengers twice my size. Battled Mountain Bears in their own territory. Held my dying father while blood soaked the forest floor. None of it prepared me for this assault on my senses—this raw need clawing beneath my skin.

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