Page 67 of Feral

“Yer not doin’ anythin’ wrong,” he said, his voice now that deliciously low tone with just the hint of a growl behind his burr. “It’s me, lass. It’s…it’s the bite, what it’s doin’ to me…I’m afraid of hurtin’ ya, of crossin’ a line I could never take back.”

My heart lurched at those words and I wanted so badly to believe that he was saying he felt something for me. That this was now more than just a cover story, because as much as I didn’t want it to, I was definitely starting to want more than that.

But I tried to stay calm, to breathe. He needed me to be level headed, reassuring, not to let my imagination run roughshod.

“Ask me then. If you want to do something, if your instincts are making it hard to resist, ask me and I’ll tell you if it’s okay.”

His long hand, now without the claws I’d seen before, reached out and hesitated. His golden eyes met mine, swimming with questions.

“Can I touch yer leg?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Slowly, he lowered his hand onto my thigh, the fingers so long that he could grip it all the way around. But he didn’t do that. He just sat it there, light at first and then he flexed his fingers and I giggled.

“I’m very ticklish there,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

He began to withdraw his hand and I slapped mine on top of his to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, really.”

He studied me for a moment and then looked down at where my hand sat on top of his, only half the size.

“Yer so tiny,” he whispered.

“You’re one of the first to ever call me that.”

My voice was a little too light, too glib to cover up the lingering pain of every man that had ever judged my curves, the softness of my belly, the stretch marks on my breasts and thighs.

“They’re wrong, Daphne. There’s not a thing wrong with the way ya look. Yer perfect,” his fingers drew circles on my leg and shivers ran up my spine. “So very perfect.”

“Oy, you two can rut later! I’m starvin’!” Lowell shouted.

I jumped at the sudden interruption and Fraser growled. Then my mind caught up with what Lowell had said and I suddenly felt as red as a tomato.

“Oh my god, is that what they think we’re doing?” I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

“It’s not unusual for newly mated Weres to be…well, very focused on that part of things.”

I peeked at him through my fingers, heart pounding in my chest. Was that what was wrong? Was his libido starting to get annoyed with not being indulged?

“Are you…um, focused on it?”

His hand tightened on my thigh and he breathed deeply through his nose.

“I promised I’d never cross that line with ya, and I intend to keep it. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Should I tell him that I’m not afraid but entirely up for it?

I wanted to. The words were on the tip of my tongue, an odd sort of courage, making all of my shyness with other men a distant memory.

Perhaps that’s because no one has ever looked at me like I’m on the menu and he can’t wait to sample me.

I flushed deeper, which I had not thought possible and looked away.

“You two come the fuck on!” Lowell shouted again.

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