Page 98 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

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The drive back to the cabin was torture.

Axel’s hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make the leather creak. Every bump in the road made Rebecca’s skirt shift against her thighs. Every breath brought him her scent, mixed with something sharper now. Arousal. Need.

She’d been driving him mad all evening. That bloody skirt. Those sheer black hose that covered nothing and everything at once. The way she’d laughed and smiled and lit up the whole damned festival. The feel of her in his arms on that dance floor, soft and warm and his.

Mine, his wolf growled. Ours. Claim her.

He wanted to, even if he wouldn’t.

Rebecca was quiet beside him, picking at the hem of her skirt. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and bit back a growl. She had no idea what she did to him. No idea that every time she touched that fabric, all he could think about was shoving it up around her waist and burying his face between her thighs.

“You’ve been tense since we left,” she said softly. “Everything okay?”

Tense. That was one word for it.

“All good.” It came out rougher than intended.

“Axel—“

“Can’t stop thinking about that damn skirt,” he admitted. “About the way other males were looking at you tonight. Staring at your legs. At your arse when you bent over to pick out those wee pumpkins.”

“They were not!” Her voice had gone breathless.

“They were, sweetheart. Trust me, they were.” His jaw clenched. Because if he wouldn’t claim her, then he had no right to keep her from others. The thought made him ill. “Wanted to rip their eyes out. Every last one.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and charged. He could hear her heartbeat quickening. Could smell the way her arousal intensified.

“And me?” The question was soft. Teasing. Knowing.

His hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles went white. “You know exactly what I promised you, little witch.”

Her breath hitched. “You promised you’d use your teeth.”

His cock throbbed painfully against his jeans. “Aye. That I did.”

The cabin came into view and he’d never been more grateful to see it. He barely remembered to shift into park before cutting the engine. Rebecca was already unbuckling, reaching for the door⁠—

“Don’t.” The command in his voice stopped her cold. “Stay right there.”

He climbed out, rounded the truck, and opened her door. The porch light illuminated her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath that infuriating sweater.

Beautiful. His. For now, at least.

He held out his hand. She took it, and the moment her palm touched his, something in him snapped.

He hauled her against him, backing her up against the truck, caging her in with his arms. Her gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her—hard, hungry, everything he’d been holding back all evening.

She responded instantly, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. Her tongue swept against his and he growled into her mouth, grinding his hips against her belly so she could feel exactly what she did to him.

“Inside,” he rasped against her lips. “Now.”

They stumbled toward the cabin, hands grabbing, mouths fused together. He got the door open—barely—and kicked it shut behind them. The bunnies froze in their enclosure, standing on hind legs to watch, but he barely registered it.

All he could see was Rebecca. Flushed and breathless and wanting.

“Axel—“