The rain danced on her eyelashes, caressed her cheeks, and outlined the expensive bra beneath the silk blouse. We were both soaked, the chill beginning to seep through, and Ididn’t give a fuck.
Because right then?
In this moment, this untamed and primitive moment, alone in nature, a moment that reminded me so much of the world of my birth that Iached?
Something inside me shifted.
MyKteerknew this female, knew her scent, knew her heartbeat, and I would make her mine.
Mine.
Lila was laughing when she slid her arms around my shoulders and beamed down at me, sodden hair making a curtain around us. All I could do was stare hungrily at her.
“Thank you for tonight, Kardok.”
My, “Not over yet,” was a growl ripped from my throat. Half a promise, half a plea to give me a sign.
She did.
Still grinning, Lila cupped my face. “We’re too wet to sit in your car, Kardok,” she murmured. “Take me to your apartment.”
And as I squeezed her to me, myKteerhowled in my chest.
Take claim love fuck taste taste TASTE CLAIM.
Chapter Eight
Lila
I was soakingwet from more than just the rain. My mascara was almost certainly somewhere it wasn’t supposed to be, and I could not stop laughing.
Kardok’s apartment door had closed, and we were both juststandingthere, dripping onto his entryway floor, struggling to breathe, looking exactly like we’d sprinted three blocks in a complete summer downpour.
His hair was plastered flat. Mine had given up any pretense of its earlier arrangement and was doing something architectural and alarming against the side of my face.
“Your floor,” I managed to gasp between the laughter.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s going to be very wet.”
“Lila.” His voice had gone all deep and gravelly, reaching down into my core. “It’s fine. It’s not the only thing that’ll get wet.”
I laughed again, sounding slightly manic and beyond turned on—since that kiss—and pushed my hair out of my face with both hands.
Everything felt slightly electric—the rain, the bar, the way the night had expanded fromone drinkinto something I hadn’t planned and couldn’t regret—and underneath all of it was this hum, thisfrequencyI’d been ignoring for days and had apparently just decided, somewhere between the third drink and the downpour, to stop ignoring.
I feltgood. Recklessly, stupidly, invincibly good.
Like someone had finally given me permission to want something.
Kardok was watching me the way he watched me on the ice when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, that focused, quiet attention that felt like being the only thing in the room worth looking at. He’d shed his jacket somewhere in the sprint, and his shirt was transparent with rain, and I was making very deliberate choices about where to direct my gaze.
I was finally allowed towant him.
“I should—” I started and gestured vaguely at myself. At the state of myself. “I’m dripping on your floor.”
“You mentioned.”
