Chapter 8

Ishouldn't have been listening in on their conversation. The furious expression on Ali's face tells me that much. I shouldn't feel such pleasure in her obvious discomfort, either. Pleasure, however, is all I feel, the smile I can't tamp down stretching my mouth in a wide grin.

She wants me. I'm not so sure if her comment about having a pulse is entirely complimentary but hearing her admit the truth has caused satisfaction greater than I've ever known.

Yet.

"How long were you standing there?" she whispers, her entire body tense as a bowstring.

I do not want to make her angry.

"Long enough," I answer truthfully.

"Fuck!" She shakes her hands at the ceiling, and I follow her gaze, not sure what she sees up there.

"We can do that if you would like, you know. If you have an itch? Like you said?" I should not bait her further, but I can't resist.

Her blue eyes snap to mine, fury flashing in them. And something else too, something that sends my pulse pounding.

She wants me.

I can feel it, her arousal, faint as it may be, through the unfinished mating bond that tethers me to her.

"I need to go walk." She moves to step around me, but I don't let her, blocking her body with mine. Her pupils dilate as I close the distance between us, placing my palms on either side of her head against the wall.

Everything in me tightens in anticipation.

"That is not what you need, Ali." I murmur her name, bowing my head and breathing in her scent. Even though she's dirty from our journey here, she still smells sweet and irresistible.

"You're right." Her voice is soft too, gentle and kind, and I've waited so long for her to speak to me like this—to say I'm right—that I nearly lose my last vestiges of restraint.

She leans forward, tilting her head up. Silky blonde hair slips around her face, her blue eyes pinning me in place. For a moment we're breathing the same air, and everything disappears with the force of my need.

"What I need is a bath, food, and sleep," she finishes, then shoves me away. Despite her words, there's no mistaking her body's response to mine.

I let her go, watching the sway of her hips, the curve of her ass, as she saunters into the kitchen.

My blood sings with the need to claim her, the magic we've trapped with our oath clambering for a chance to leap out of me, to shift. The need to pursue her, to seal the bond between us and make her mine grips me hard.

I don't move. I breathe, and I ride out the turbulent feelings and magic, my control slippery at best. I finally relax against the wall, savoring her scent still perfuming the air.

She'll come to me when she's ready.

And when she is, she'll never slip from my embrace again.