"I'm alert. And there's been zero activity for six hours." I stood, stretching muscles that had stiffened from sitting too long. "Even cultists need sleep."
"They don't sleep. They wait."
I moved closer, drawn by something I couldn't name. "We should talk."
That got his attention. Rook turned from the window, amber eyes finding mine in the dim light. "About?"
The word came out guarded, defensive. Classic Rook.
I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall near the door. "Us. Our attraction we keep fighting."
His entire body went rigid. For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared at me with an expression I couldn't read. I was about to give up, to retreat back to my chair and pretend I hadn't said anything, when his voice cut through the silence.
"Yes, there is an attraction." The admission sounded torn from somewhere deep. "I'd be stupid to keep trying to deny it. But what do we do about it?"
The question hung between us, honest in a way Rook rarely allowed himself to be. I pushed away from the wall, taking a step toward him.
"We can see where it goes."
His eyes tracked my approach, predator-wary but not retreating. "And Winter? Milo? Fenric?"
"What about them?" I stopped just within arm's reach. "We're all part of this thing. All connected. Doesn't mean you and I can't explore what's between us."
Rook's jaw worked, processing. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling. "I don't know how to do this."
"Neither do I," I admitted, taking another step. I'd never been with someone who could take me. "But I'm tired of pretending I don't want to."
The air between us crackled with tension. Close enough now that I could smell him, pine and earth and something wild that made my fae blood sing with recognition.
"Zane." My name was a warning. Or maybe permission. Hard to tell with Rook.
I closed the remaining distance in one smooth motion, sliding my hand to cup the back of his neck. His skin was furnace-hot beneath my palm, pulse hammering against my fingertips.
"If you don't want this, say so now," I gave him one last out.
His answer was to grab the front of my shirt and yank me against him, his mouth crashing into mine with none of the careful control I'd shown with Winter or the gentle exploration I'd shared with Milo. This was raw and demanding, teeth and tongue and barely restrained violence.
I opened to him immediately, meeting his aggression with my own. My fingers tightened in his hair, pulling hard enough to sting. He growled into my mouth, the sound vibrating through my chest where we pressed together.
We broke apart for air, both breathing hard. Rook's eyes had gone full wolf-gold, pupils blown wide with desire. Before either of us could second-guess what was happening, he spun me around, pressing my front against the glass door. The cool surface was a shock against my overheated skin.
"This what you wanted?" His breath was hot against my ear, his body a solid wall of muscle at my back. "To see what the wolf tastes like?"
"Yes," I didn't bother hiding my arousal, my cock already hard and straining against my pants.
Rook's hand slid around to grip my throat, not squeezing, just holding. A claiming gesture that sent heat pooling low in my stomach. His other hand found my hip, fingers digging in possessively.
"We do this, there's no taking it back." His voice had dropped to that rumbling growl that was more animal than man.
"Good," I pressed back against him, feeling his own considerable arousal through the layers of clothing between us. "I don't want to take it back."
He released my throat only to spin me back around, his mouth finding mine again with bruising intensity. I gave as good as I got, my hands already working at his shirt, needing to feel skin. He yanked my own shirt over my head without breaking the kiss, tossing it aside carelessly.
When we finally pulled apart, his eyes raked over my exposed chest, taking in the scattered scars from centuries of demon hunting. His fingers traced one particularly vicious mark that curved along my ribs.
"Battle damage," I explained unnecessarily.
"Makes you real," Rook's thumb brushed the scar with unexpected tenderness before his expression hardened again. "On the floor."
