She was crying because of something else. Maybe the thing that made her meet me in that tunnel. I wanted to make it better, and then suddenly, I was kissing her.
Not tenderly. Not gently. Not with consent.
I kissed her like a male crazed with passion. Like a wolf who’s met his mate.
The idea occurred to me before—that I’ve been seeing her in my dreams because she’s mine.
She belongs to me.
I have to admit that holding her as she sleeps feels like a fucking privilege. I’m telling myself I’m doing it to keep her from escaping. I’m doing it to soothe away her nightmares or the fits she has when she gets her visions. But those are lies.
Holding her, touching her, breathing in her scent feels like home.
Maybe fate didn’t bring Aster to me to help find my mother. Maybe fate wanted me to rescue her from whatever nightmare she’s living out in that prison tower. Or maybe the moon goddess was connecting two mates.
Fuck. Even though the idea brings a kind of chaotic excitement to my cells, I don’t want to examine this possibility.
Mating the Adalwulf Seeress–their most protected asset–isn’t a possibility for me. I’ve spent my whole life working on this long game to infiltrate them and find where they keep their Moonborn. To try to talk sense into my mother, and if I can’t, to bring down the entire violent cult that indoctrinated her with their warped ideology.
They bred my mother like a slave. They tried to kill me at birth.
They need to be extinguished.
So yes, I will use Aster to get what I want, but complicating this plan with romance? With mating?
Not a possibility.
Chapter Ten
Aster
I ease awake from a dreamless sleep with a deep sense of peace in my body. The scent of a delicious male with amber and pine notes fills my nostrils.
For one moment, it feels right. Like I’m somewhere familiar. Like I’ve woken this way a thousand times, and every time was sweetness.
Then I remember where I am.
I gasp and try to sit up, only to discover Noah’s still in the bed with me, his heavy arm wrapped around my waist.
He jerks at my sudden movement and then slowly releases me. Something hard brushes against my ass. My body is untouched, but I’ve witnessed the Alpha Rites. I know what this means.
Noah’s aroused.
I quickly roll off the bed, squaring off to him. The soft flannel shirt sleeves of the shirt I borrowed from him flap open, hanging far past my hands.
He sits up, and I get a full view of his naked and muscled torso. When he lifts a hand to rub his mussed hair, I see the tattoos that trace his forearms, which give him a rugged, alpha look. I want to examine them up close. To see what he chose to ink on his body. I suspect it’s something intentional. He doesn't strike me as someone who did it on a whim. Or for looks. Tattooing a shifter is a painful process involving adding salt to the ink mixture to keep our natural healing from absorbing it.
His nostrils flare like he’s taking in my scent. He throws off the covers and swings his legs off the side of the bed. “You said you weren’t scared of me.”
My gaze darts to the tent in his sweatpants. How big is he? What would it be like to…
Ack! Why am I thinking this way? I’m not interested in this male. I’m not.
He glances down and adjusts himself. “You’re scared of my dick.” He samples the air again and grows thoughtful. “No, you’re scared of your body’s reaction to me.”
Heat flushes up my neck. Damn him. He must smell both my fear and arousal. I hold the flannel closed at the neck, as if to keep him from seeing my throat. As if that, alone, would be too much of an invitation.
“I’m sorry I kissed you.” He holds his palms up. “That’s not what I want from you.” He turns and stalks out of the bedroom, almost like he’s a little pissed.
