10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

N atalie

The cabin door bangs open, startling me from my contemplation of the dying fire. Fury stomps in, Shaddai tucked under one arm like a furry football. Snow dusts the wolven's hair, shoulders, and tail, glinting in the low light.

"Holy shit, Natalie," he grumbles, setting Shaddai down. The pup immediately scampers over to his nest of blankets, burrowing in with a contented sigh.

Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what he's walked in on. Me, perched on the bed, my injured foot propped up, hands massaging the still-tender joint. I hadn't exactly planned on him seeing me like this—post-shower, my flannel nightgown rucked halfway up my thigh.

"Um… sorry." I reach to throw the covers over my bare legs, wincing as the movement jostles my ankle. "I was just…"

"Soothing your pain, from the looks of it." He's across the room in two long strides, looming over me with a scowl. "Why didn't you tell me you were still in so much pain?"

I open my mouth to protest, to insist I'm fine, but the words die on my tongue as he drops to his knees at the foot of the bed. How is it he's even more imposing up close, all coiled strength and barely leashed intensity ?

"Here, let me." After shrugging out of his snow-dusted coat, his hands, so large and rough, wrap around my knees with a gentleness that steals my breath. He pulls me down the bed so my feet are hanging off the edge. "You've got to be hurting yourself more, contorted in that position."

I sit up, leaning back on my hands and I stare, transfixed, as he massages the inflamed joint, his gentle fingers unerringly finding the sorest spots. A sigh escapes me, my eyes fluttering shut at the exquisite mix of pressure and relief.

"That's it," he murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers arcing through me. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

Oh. Oh, those words should not affect me the way they do. But I can't help the way my body responds, the way my pulse kicks and my skin prickles with heat.

It's just the intimacy of the moment, I tell myself. The raw vulnerability of having him so close, touching me so tenderly. It doesn't mean anything.

But as I force my eyes open, catching the look on his face, I'm not so sure. Because Fury is watching me with an intensity that steals my breath, his silver eyes almost metallic in the firelight.

There's hunger there, barely restrained. And something softer, more reverent. Like I'm precious, something to be cherished.

It's too much, that look. Too close to the secret desires I've been harboring, the ones I can't let myself acknowledge. Because he's a wolven and I'm… dear God, I'm part of the system that has oppressed his people from the first day they arrived on Earth. Worse than that. From what he told me earlier, he wasn't simply one of five thousand Others who humans have treated badly since they arrived. I'm pretty sure he was one of the hundred who were experimented on, tortured. By my father. The man who saw him as nothing more than a test subject, a thing to be used and discarded.

Guilt, cold and bitter, rises in my throat. I should tell him. I should confess the truth of my identity, the shame of my father's sins. He deserves to know, but I can't tell him. Not now, not when he's looking at me like that, not when his hands on my skin are the only thing tethering me to Earth.

So I do the only thing I can. I surrender to the moment, letting the rest fall away until there's nothing but the heat of his touch and the pounding of my heart.

"Fury," I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper. "I…"

"Shh." He keeps his gaze from me as though he knows what will happen when our glances collide.

It's bliss, pure and simple. His hands are magic, coaxing the pain and tension from my body with every firm stroke. But more than that, it's the connection, the unspoken understanding flowing between us.

In this moment, we're not wolven and human, predator and prey. We're just two people, two souls finding solace in each other's presence.

The crackling of the fire and our mingled breaths are the only sounds, a soothing counterpoint to the howling wind outside. The orange glow haloes Fury from behind, softening the harsh planes and angles of his usually angry face.

He's beautiful like this, lost in concentration. His brow furrowed and his lips parted. Those pearly fangs flashing in the firelight. I drink in the sight of him, committing every detail to memory, knowing that when I spill my secret, he'll despise me and all of this will be lost. That molten look in his silver eyes will never flash at me again. Instead, it will be filled with hatred.

He's handsome now, though. The strong line of his jaw, shadowed with salt and pepper stubble. The proud jut of his nose, the high slash of his cheekbones. The lush curve of his mouth, so often set in a grim line but now relaxed, almost soft.

I want to touch him. Want to trace the arch of his brow, the furred points of his wolven ears. I want to glide my fingers through the thick pelt of fur that covers his shoulders and falls halfway down his back. I want to press my lips against the pulse beating strong and steady at his throat. Want to feel the silk of his hair sliding between my fingers, the rasp of his beard against my palm.

I want…I want…

"Tally." My name on his lips jolts me from my reverie. He's staring up at me, his eyes no longer pure silver, but dark as a cloudy sky, bottomless in the dancing light. "Tell me to stop. Tell me you don't want this."

Once our gazes connect, he moves his palm up my leg to my calf. Nothing intrusive, certainly not indecent, just a soft graze filled with the hint of what he'd like to do next.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Do I want this? Want him? It's a question I've been avoiding, a truth I've been running from.

But here, now, with his hands on my skin and his eyes boring into mine, I can't lie to myself anymore.

"I'm not sure exactly what I do want, Fury, but I know I don't want you to stop right now," I whisper, my heart in my throat.

He inhales sharply, his fingers flexing on my calf. For a moment, I think he's going to pull away, to retreat behind his walls once more.

But then he's surging up, his firm hands on my waist moving me, setting my head on my pillow. He straddles me, his knees on either side of my hips, as his hands cup my face. One more long moment, our gazes locked, as he waits for me to say the word, to protest, to refuse him.

"Yes…"

Before I can even finish my sentence, he leans to crash his lips onto mine in a fiery kiss. My breath hitches as his tongue expertly dances with mine, igniting a spark that arcs to every inch of my body. The taste of him is exhilarating—crisp like snow and earthy like pine, with a hint of something wild and untamed that lights my skin on fire .

He pulls me closer, his arms enveloping me in a cocoon of heat and desire. His groans vibrate against my lips, making me melt into him further. It feels as though we've been waiting for this moment all our lives, and now that it's finally here, I'm completely lost in the sensations.

His grazing palms send rivers of heat through my veins. I can't get enough of him, craving more of his skilled touch and delicious taste. With each passing second, I give more of myself over to him, my hands tangling in his hair as I arch toward him in pure desire.

It's an explosion of need and want unlike anything I've experienced before, consuming me and leaving me wanting more. And as our bodies move in perfect harmony, I know that this moment is everything I've been craving and denying myself—it's even better than anything I could have possibly imagined.

I'm lost in him, drowning in sensation. The heat of his body, the strength of his arms around me. The way he groans into my mouth, low and desperate, as though he's waited a dozen lifetimes for this moment.

It's everything I've been craving, everything I've been denying myself. And it's so much better than I ever could have imagined.

My hands fist in his hair, anchoring him to me as our chests press together, my nipples hard enough to dent his chest. Heat sizzles through every muscle, cell, and fiber of my being as I give myself over to him.

Even as I told myself this would be a mistake, that I should never act on the desire that's been simmering since I woke from unconsciousness and saw those gorgeous silver eyes, I wondered what it would be like to kiss a mouth that hid a dangerous set of fangs.

How can his kiss be so passionate? How can he devour me with lips and tongue, yet be so tender, making sure those sharp canines do nothing more than nudge my mouth wider?

As our lips finally part, I'm left breathless and gasping, my heart racing like a herd of wild horses charging through a mountain pass. Fury looks at me with an almost feral intensity, hunger radiating off him.

His fangs are just barely visible now, and his piney scent envelops us, the air rich with it.

"Tally." That one word is a statement, a question. His gaze flicks from my mouth to my eyes to my lips again as he awaits my answer to his wordless question.

"Yes."

He leans close, his soft lips brushing against mine before diving back in.

His tender kiss morphs into something more urgent, more demanding. His tongue darts to trace the seam of my lips, and I open eagerly for him. His masculine taste is all I'm aware of as his soft-as-velvet tongue explores my warm, hidden depths.

He pulls me to sitting, and with one hand cradling the back of my head and the other at the base of my spine, he pulls me closer. Our breath mingling, he nips my bottom lip, then delves inside me again. Our tongues dance, coordinating without a misstep as though we've been lovers for years.

His furry shoulder pelt is silken under my palms as we grind against each other. My weight is on my knees as our hips move in a slow rhythm that ignites a fire deep within me.

I moan into his mouth as he kisses me harder, his fangs gently scraping my bottom lip. It sends shivers down my spine and straight to my core.

His warm breath grazes my face as he growls low in his throat, a primal sound that vibrates through him and me, making my channel clench, igniting a desire for more than these intoxicating kisses. His hands move down to grip my ass, pulling me tighter so I can press harder against his hard, masculine ridge.

The soft feel of his fur, his skin against my cheeks and hands makes me realize just how much I've missed this connection to another being. These kisses are hungry, desperate, as if we've been apart for an eternity.

His tongue sweeps into my mouth again, tracing along the ridges of my teeth before diving deep to explore my depths. It's intoxicating—wild yet tender all at once. His raw, unrestrained animal energy makes me ache for more.

His beard rasps lightly against my palms. His partially extended claws dig into my skin just enough to remind me he isn't entirely human. He's part wolf. But it only adds to the thrill.

The world around us fades away as our kisses grow more intense, more desperate. The sounds of our passion fill the air: soft moans and whimpers, low growls that rumble from his chest, vibrating against my hardened nipples.

I'm not sure what happens first. Does Fury make a sound as he pulls away, which causes Shaddai to wake with a bark, or does Shaddai's bark cause Fury to snap upright as though he was struck by a bolt of lightning?

Either way, our bodies, which had been plastered together as we kissed and dry-humped like adolescents, are no longer touching, though we're only inches apart. My body hasn't gotten the memo that this kiss is over, though. Desperate need is sparking through me, my nipples are hard points in need of friction, and my core feels so empty it's bereft.

If it's any consolation, Fury's chest is heaving and his eyes are wild. He looks as wrecked as I feel, just as desperate and hungry.

"We can't," he rasps, his voice raw and ragged as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. "Tally, we can't do this. It's not right."

He's right. This, whatever this is between us, is a mistake. A beautiful, terrible mistake that will only end in heartbreak.

But goodness, I don't care. In this moment, with the taste of him still on my tongue and the hot imprint of his hands still on my skin, I would gladly burn the world down for just one more kiss .

"Fury, please." I reach for him, aching for his touch. "It's complicated, I know. There are a million reasons why we shouldn't. But right now, I don't care about a single one of them."

He shakes his head, leaning farther away even as his eyes devour me. "You don't understand. I'm not fit company for anyone, not really. Neither human nor Other."

"Then tell me." I sit up so our faces are only inches from each other, our breaths grazing each other's cheeks. "Make me understand. Because from where I'm sitting, you're the most honorable, most loyal, most fucking amazing man I've ever met."

He barks a harsh laugh, the sound bitter and disbelieving. "I'm not a man, Tally. I'm a wolven who carries so much anger and resentment it's a miracle I fit inside this little cabin with you. And you're so good. So pure. I won't taint you with my darkness."

My heart cracks at the self-loathing in his voice, the certainty that he's not worthy of love, of happiness. If only he knew the truth about who I really am, about the male who spawned me, he would never use the words good or pure to describe me.

But I can't tell him. Not now, not after the incendiary kiss we just shared.

So instead, I close the distance between us, my hands coming up to frame his face. He flinches but doesn't pull away, his eyes searching mine.

"You're a survivor, Fury. A protector. You saved my life, and Shaddai's." I stroke my thumbs over his cheekbones, marveling at the softness of his skin. "And whether you believe it or not, you deserve good things. You deserve to be happy."

He leans into my touch, his eyes slipping shut as he releases a shuddering breath. "Tally…"

"Shh." I brush my lips over his in the lightest of kisses. "Just let yourself have this. Just for a little while. The rest… the rest we can figure out later. "

For a long, tortuous moment, he remains still as stone; the only sign of life is his thundering pulse beneath my fingertips. I hold my breath, silently begging him to give in, to take what I'm offering.

And then, with a groan that seems to come from the depths of his soul, he's crushing me to him, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that sears me to my very bones.

Yes. This. This is what I've been waiting for, what I've been needing. The rest—the past, the future, the secrets that stretch between us—none of it matters.

All that matters is the heat of his body against mine, the desperate way he clutches me to him. The little sounds he makes in the back of his throat like he's dying and being reborn all at once.

I pour everything I am into this kiss, every ounce of longing and tenderness and desire. I want him to feel it, to know that this is real, that I see him, all of him, and I'm not running.

That I… lord help me, that I'm falling for him.

The realization hits me like a bolt of lightning, shocking and electrifying. I gasp into his mouth, my fingers tightening in his silken hair.

Falling? Is that what this is? This wild, reckless, all-consuming feeling?

It can't be. It's too soon, too intense. We barely know each other, and what we do know is a minefield of pain and prejudice.

But as Fury eases me down into the bed, his hands hot and possessive on my shoulders, I can't deny the truth any longer.

I want this male.

And… the feeling is mutual.

But just as quickly as the realization hits me like a sledgehammer, he yanks himself away, leaps off the bed, and backs up. His quicksilver eyes are wild, his palm wiping his lips back and forth as if he could erase what we just shared .

He's shaking his head, hair wild about his face. Even his shoulder pelt shakes with the movement.

"I'm stopping this now, Tally. You shouldn't make this decision in the heat of the moment. It's too big. Too risky."

Is he talking about me, or is he trying to protect himself?

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and assess my emotions. Frankly, I don't think I'm being impulsive. If he gave his consent, I'd be naked, my thighs spread for him by now. But he's the one who's not ready. He's protecting his heart. I can appreciate that.

"Thanks, Fury. It's a good idea for us to take our time."

It's silent for the longest minute in history, and then I lie back down and curl up, my back facing his side of the bed. "But I'd sure be mad if you slept on the floor. I had the best sleep of my life since you've shared my bed. You're warmer than the hearth."

He chuffs, and I imagine every lithe movement in detail as I listen to him pull off his clothes and climb into bed.