“What?” he asks, voice low.
“Then kiss me.”
His eyes darken. “Yeah, you should’ve.”
My stomach flips. “I didn’t mean…”
“You did,” he cuts in, calm. “You just didn’t think about what it means to say that to me.”
I swallow hard. “What does it mean?”
Wolf stands.
The movement is smooth and controlled, but it changes the whole room. He’s taller now, closer, and the air feels thicker. He walks toward me like he owns the space between us.
I don’t move. I can’t.
He stops in front of the couch, close enough that I have to tilt my head to look at him. His hand comes to my jaw again, thumb brushing my cheek.
“You climbed into my lap,” he says, voice rough. “You asked me to claim you.”
My throat tightens. “I needed…”
“I know,” he says, and there’s no anger in it. Only certainty. “And I meant it.”
My heart stutters.
He leans down, mouth close to mine, close enough that his breath warms my lips. “When I told him you’re my woman, I meant it.”
My body goes hot all at once.
“That was supposed to be pretend,” I whisper, and my voice betrays me because I don’t want it to be.
Wolf’s mouth brushes my cheek, not a kiss, just a touch that makes me shiver.
“Angel,” he murmurs, “I don’t do pretend.”
His hand slides from my jaw to my neck, fingers resting there like he can feel my pulse hammering.
“You’re mine now,” he says.
The words should scare me.
They don’t.
They settle in my chest like something I’ve been starving for.
My breath catches. “Wolf…”
His eyes lift to mine, and for a second I see it. The broken man. The cold he built. The control he clings to like it’s life or death.
Then I see something else.
Want.
And it’s aimed straight at me.
He swallows, jaw flexing.
