"I'm trying," Perrin mutters, and I hear the scrape of his belt buckle, the rushed tug of a zipper, and the sound breaks something in me.
I lunge at Perrin.
My hands find his shirt, his arms, his shoulders, anything I can grab. He pulls back, and an inhuman snarl rips out of my throat.
I need Perrin’s skin.
I need the scent.
He can't take it away from me.
He can't leave!
My instincts are screaming that if he leaves, I’ll die, and I believe it completely.
"Jesus—Cliff, she won't—" Perrin's stepping to one side, trying to detach my fingers without hurting me, but I'm climbing him again, fisting his shirt, dragging myself up his body.
Heavy footsteps cross the tent in three strides.
"What thefuck, lady?"
A hand clamps around my upper arm and yanks mebackward, and the alpha—Cliff—is right there. So close I can see every striking feature on his face.
He has high, sharp cheekbones under warm tan skin. A strong, straight nose. A jaw that looks like it was cut from stone, hard-angled and clean. His dark hair has fallen over his forehead, damp with sweat, and his brows are heavy and expressive over deep-set eyes that are nearly all black.
He looks about forty years old or so. Maybe a few years younger.
And his body…
Every line of him is sculpted. Broad shoulders rolling into thick arms corded with muscle, a chest that expands with each heavy breath, abs that I can see flex beneath his thin, black T-shirt.
He looks like something out of a myth.
And his scent…
It hits me like a freight train. Smokey dark chocolate.
Mine.
It’s not the faded aroma on Perrin's cock. This is the source, undiluted and devastatingly wonderful. It pours off Cliff’s tan skin in waves so thick I can literally taste him in the air. It fills my mouth, my lungs, the hollow spaces behind my ribs, and every nerve in my body ignites at once.
My grip on Perrin goes slack.
My hands fall to my sides.
And my body turns toward the alpha like a compass finding north.
Cliff's grip on my arm loosens, but he doesn’t let go.
Yes, hold onto me. Pull me closer. Soak up my scent.
Kiss me.
Fuck me.
Claim me.
Cliff’s eyes narrow, scanning my face like he's trying tofigure me out. His nostrils flare, once, twice, pulling in short, sharp breaths through his nose. And it hits me…
