Page 38 of The Reaper's Vow
This is bad. Really bad. My cycle has never hit like this before. Normally, I could get by with over-the-counter suppressants and stubborn willpower, locking myself away until it passed. But the mark has magnified everything and I can barely think straight.
My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, whimpering with need. She has a simple solution. Find Damien. Let him take care of this burning ache inside us. Let him finish what he started.
“Absolutely not,” I mutter, shoving her suggestions aside. I don't need him. I can handle this myself.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the cool air against my overheated skin providing momentary relief. The bathroom door is closed, but I can hear water running behind it. A shower. Of course. The mental image that conjures…Damien’s powerful build under the spray, water cascading over him, sends another jolt of arousal through me that I absolutely do not need right now.
I force myself to stand, my legs unsteady beneath me. The movement sends my scent spiraling through the room, rich with arousal that makes me want to crawl under the covers and hide. But hiding won't make this go away.
I need clothes. Clean clothes that don't smell like sex and desperation. My duffel bag sits on the dresser where Damien placed it last night, looking small and out of place among his belongings. I rifle through it, grateful I packed practical items, pulling out jeans and a simple sweater.
The shower shuts off behind the bathroom door, and my wolf perks up with interest. I can practically feel her pushing against my skin, eager to be closer to Damien.
“Stop it,” I hiss at her, grabbing my clothes and heading for the door. “We're not doing this.”
But my wolf has other ideas. The moment my hand touches the doorknob, she floods my system with images. Damien's hands on my skin, his mouth at my throat, his body covering mine. I grip the doorknob harder, trying to push her suggestions away.
The bathroom door swings open before I can escape, and suddenly he's there—towel slung low on his hips, water dropletsstill clinging to his broad chest, his hair slicked back from his face. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, my wolf practically purring with appreciation.
““Going somewhere?” His voice is rough from sleep despite the shower, a low growl that curls through the air. His gaze sweeps over my face before dropping to the fresh wound at my throat, and satisfaction rolls off him in steady, invisible waves.
“I need space,” I manage, my words embarrassingly breathless. “This is… a lot.”
His nostrils flare as he inhales, and I know he’s tasting the heat coming off me. The bite at my neck throbs under his attention, a pulse that sends another shuddering wave spiraling through my body.
“Your heat’s worsening,” he says, moving closer, each step deliberate. “What I did to you sped it up.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, retreating until my shoulders press into the wall. “I’ve managed this before. For years. Alone.”
“This isn’t like before.”
He’s right, and I hate that he’s right. My skin feels fevered, every nerve ending so hypersensitive the brush of air over it makes me tremble. The wound at my throat pulses with each heartbeat—a constant reminder of what we’ve begun but haven’t finished.
“It will only get stronger,” he continues, closing the distance between us. Warmth radiates from his still-damp skin, soap and pine mingling into a scent that makes my knees weak. “You’ve never gone through this with your mate near. Only humans.” He spits the last word like a challenge.
Inside me, my wolf whimpers, clawing at my skin as though she’s trying to break free. She knows who she wants. She knows what she wants.
“I can handle it,” I insist, though my voice trembles. Water beads trail down his chest, and my mouth goes dry for reasonsthat have nothing to do with thirst. “I just need some air. Some space to think.”
“Space won’t help.” He raises his hand, fingers hovering near the place where his teeth broke skin but not quite touching. Even that almost-contact sends electricity tearing through me. “Distance will only make the hunger worse.”
“Let me help you. Take some of the edge off, I mean.”
“Help me? What exactly are you suggesting?”
“Not what you think.” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “But there are...other ways to ease the pressure.”
A flush fills my cheeks as his meaning sinks in. “Absolutely not.”
“You're in pain.” He takes another step closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “I can feel it through the bond—the ache, the need burning under your skin. Let me?—”
“No.” I duck under his arm, escaping to the relative safety of the main room. But there's no real escape, not when his scent clings to everything. “You said you’d give me three days to decide.”
He follows me, that towel still riding low on his hips. “I am still upholding that agreement, kitten. What I am offering is relief.”
“Relief.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore how the movement makes my oversensitive skin spark with sensation. “You mean sexual relief.”
“I mean, taking the edge off so you can function.” His voice drops to that rough growl that makes my wolf stretch beneath my skin. “So you can sit across from an alpha in two hours without broadcasting your need to every wolf in the room.”
