"May I kiss you?"
Not would you, not what if, but may I. A request, not a hypothetical. My heart hammers against my ribs, the sound deafening in my own ears.
"Yes," I breathe, the word slipping out before all my careful defenses can stop it.
He moves slowly. One hand rises to cup my cheek, his touch feather-light, careful, as if I might shatter at any moment. The electric sensation beneath my skin surges at the contact, pleasure cascading through me from that simple touch.
His eyes hold mine as he leans closer, his breath warm against my lips. "Last chance to change your mind," he murmurs.
In answer, I close the distance between us.
His lips are soft despite his fierce appearance, the contrast sending a shiver down my spine. The kiss begins gentle, almost questioning. Then deepens as I respond, my hand rising to curl around the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.
The electrical sensation explodes through me like a live wire dropped in water, every nerve ending singing with it. The world narrows to the points where we touch. His lips. His hand. My fingers.
I've been kissed before. Not often, not recently, but enough to have a basis for comparison. This isn't just a kiss. It's like drowning and breathing for the first time simultaneously. Like finding something I never knew I'd lost.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless, my heart racing as if I've run miles. The look in his golden eyes makes my stomach flutter. There’s hunger, wonder, and something deeper I can't name all swirling around inside me.
"Astrid," he whispers, my name in his mouth sounds like a prayer.
CHAPTER 24
A Kiss And A Betrayal
* * *
Fenrir Thorsson
I pull her mouth back to mine.
The kiss transforms something fundamental between us. That electric current that's been humming beneath my skin since I arrived on this planet explodes into brilliant, burning life where our lips meet, like two stars colliding after eons of circling each other across the void.
She tastes sweet, like fresh pastries from the oven, like coming home after centuries of wandering. Her scent intensifies with arousal, making my head swim in a dizzying haze of desire and recognition. I want to taste all of her, to map every inch of her skin with my lips, to brand her with my touch as surely as she has branded me with hers.
When her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging slightly, a growl of approval rumbles from deep in my chest—primal and possessive. I cup her face with one hand, the other moving to her waist, thumb tracing the curve of her hip through tactical fabric that suddenly feels like an offensive barrier between us, a cruel reminder of the worlds that separate us.
"Come here," I murmur against her mouth, gently pulling her body toward me, the request both plea and command.
She hesitates only for a heartbeat before shifting across the center console and into my lap, knees braced on either side of my thighs.
The weight of her settles against me. Perfect. Right.
My cock hardens instantly beneath her. Five centuries of control tested by the press of her body against mine. The wolf inside me growls with approval. Mine.
Her scent surrounds me completely now—clean sweat, gun oil, and beneath it all, the unmistakable musk of arousal that makes my pupils dilate and my fingers tighten at her waist.
Power courses through me. Ancient. Primal. The hunt ending exactly as it should, with her in my arms.
"This is a terrible idea," she breathes, even as her hands frame my face, her eyes dark pools I could drown in willingly.
"Not at all," I say, the understatement of five centuries. How could something that feels like destiny made flesh be terrible?
Then her mouth is on mine again, and rational thought disintegrates like ash in the wind. My hands slide up her back, feeling the lean muscle beneath her shirt, the strength in her lithe frame. She's all controlled power and deadly grace, this GUIDE agent who carries a piece of my soul within her. A paradox of hunter and hunted, danger and salvation.
Mine, my wolf whispers again. Ours. Finally. Always.
When her hips shift against mine, seeking closer contact, another growl escapes me. Deeper, hungrier, a sound from the ancient forests of Asgard where my ancestors first ran wild.
