"Rook," she whispered against my mouth, the sound of my name on her lips more intoxicating than any drug I'd ever known. Her fingers unclenched from my shirt only to slip beneath it, her palms flat against my abdomen, exploring with a hesitant curiosity that made me growl low in my throat.
I pressed closer, pinning her more firmly between the wall and my body. The sweet pressure of her curves fitting perfectly against my harder planes sent shockwaves of pleasure through my system. I'd denied myself this for too long, convincing myself it was for her protection. Now I realized it had been my own fear keeping us apart, fear of what she made me feel, fear of losing control.
The wolf inside me didn't care about control. It recognized her as ours, had from the first moment. As my teeth grazed her lower lip, tugging gently, her shudder of response traveled through both our bodies like electricity.
The blue markings on her skin flared brighter, her prophetic energy responding to her emotions. I could feel it humming against my skin, wild and ancient, but I wasn't afraid. Not of her. Never of her.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers. Reality was already creeping back in, reminding me of all the reasons this couldn't happen.
"I shouldn't have done that," though I made no move to release her.
"I'm glad you did," Winter was quiet but certain.
I stepped back reluctantly, putting space between us. "This isn't the place."
Her eyes searched mine, looking for rejection, for regret. She wouldn't find either. What she would find was more complicated, desire warring with duty, need fighting against caution.
"I should walk you back to the apartment," I joked, as if we weren't already standing in it.
Winter smiled, understanding what I couldn't say. That I needed time. That this, whatever it was between us, couldn't be rushed or forced.
"Okay," she nodded, smoothing her shirt where my hands had gripped it. "Lead the way."
As we left the apartment to walk the hallways in a circuit that would eventually bring us back, I felt something shift inside me. The wolf that had been fighting to claim her was quiet now, satisfied with the small territory we'd marked.
For now.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Winter
The abandoned factory loomed against the cliffs, its broken windows staring down at us. The sea wind whistled through the crumbling brick, creating a sound that made the hair on my arms stand up beneath my jacket.
It was creepy as fuck.
"Are we seriously doing this?" I pulled my coat tighter around me, eyeing the factory's rusted entrance gate. "This place looks like it was condemned before I was born."
"That's what makes it fun!" Milo bounced on his heels, eyes bright with excitement. "It's just cultist urban exploration! With friends!"
I glanced at Zane, who stood slightly apart from us, his mismatched eyes scanning the perimeter with professional suspicion. Unlike Milo's enthusiastic grin, his expression was tense, jaw set in a hard line.
"I don't like it," he ran a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "Anonymous tip about 'ritual activity' in the lower tunnels? Screams trap."
"Everything screams trap to you," I reminded him, though I couldn't shake my own uneasiness. My knee throbbed dully, a lingering reminder of my recent recovery. The blue markings on my skin pulsed faintly beneath my sleeve, responding to my anxiety.
It had been only a week since I'd been released from the Bureau's medical wing. A week of nightmares filled with broken prophecies and shadowy Harbingers. A week of trying to pretend I was healing while the markings spread further across my skin. A week of feeling like I was balancing on a knife's edge between who I had been and whatever I was becoming.
And now we were investigating creepy abandoned factories based on anonymous tips.
"Winter?" Milo's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "You okay? We don't have to do this if you're not feeling up to it."
I straightened my shoulders, pushing away the guilt that had become my constant companion. "I'm fine. Just thinking about how many horror movies start exactly like this."
"At least three of my skeleton crew are wearing red shirts," Milo grinned, gesturing to the tiny skeletons peeking out of his backpack. "So we've got sacrificial characters ready to go."
Despite everything, I laughed. Leave it to Milo to make me smile even when facing potential danger. Horrace, who was draped around my shoulders like a living scarf, made a musical sound that might have been laughter too.
