Page 82 of Blood & Claw

She nipped his lower lip with her teeth, gently tugging at his hair now. Making it clear that she needed more. In response, his kisses grew hungrier still, another moan rumbling through his chest.

The sound was raw, stirring something inside her.

She wanted to hear him moan again, to drag it from him.

And as his tongue plunged into her mouth, mating it, Dale ran a hand down her flank, over her hip, and to her thigh. He then hiked up her skirt and caught her leg under the knee, lifting her up and bringing their groins together.

She wore woolen leggings underneath, yet he was closer to her now. His hardness pressed against her softness then, and Ailsa gasped.

Grazing her lower lip with his teeth, he ground against her, letting her feel every inch of his iron-hard prick.

Want tightened low in her belly, sharp and demanding. She was aching for him now, rolling her hips to meet his as they moved against the wall in a steady rhythm. They were both still fully clothed, yet, somehow, it made what they were doing even more erotic.

Pleasure drew tighter and tighter every time he ground against her. It felt so good, she could hardly bear it.

“Gods!” she whimpered as he buried his face in her neck.

Her outburst roused him, seeming to draw him out of the haze of lust. He lifted his head, and their gazes met.

Ailsa stiffened. His eyes had changed again—bright gold, rimmed in black, the pupils drawn thin and predatory.

She should have recoiled at the strange sight. His eyes should have frightened her, yet they didn’t.

Instead, a strange ache tightened in her chest.

Marking her reaction, he stilled. “What is it?” His voice was hoarse with lust.

“Your eyes … they’re—”

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

And then, cutting his gaze from her, Dale reeled back, as if scalded.

Alarmed by his reaction, she reached for him. “Dale, it’s—”

He stepped away, his movements jerky now. The cold rushed in where his body had been.

He moved toward the door. “I need to check on Rùn,” he said roughly.

He glanced at her once more, and then, before she could ask him anything else, he yanked open the door and disappeared into the night.

Ailsa watched him go, heart racing, lips still tingling.

20: EASIER SAID THAN DONE

“WHAT THE FUCK were you doing?” Darach snarled under his breath as he limped across the courtyard. “Do you have dung between your ears?”

The tattoo on his thigh pulsed with each stride. His skin felt too hot, too tight.

Shit.

His teeth hurt. He’d been grinding them all evening.

Every sound felt too loud.

Every smell too sharp.

The beast had awoken—it had growled in his ear all through supper.