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She climbs out of the truck like everything hurts, although I spent most of the night feeding her body a steady stream of healing magic. My own reserves are low, sharpening the pang of my hunger. She follows me to the front of the truck.

I eye her, then shed my sweatshirt. It leaves me in just a t-shirt in the middle of winter, but she doesn’t object to me shoving the heavy fabric at her. In fact, she puts it on in a hurry. It engulfs her, and my cock twitches. It has horrible timing.

But I like her in my clothes.

She lifts the collar to her nose and inhales. Pink blooms across her cheeks.

I grin. My heart thunders. She leads the way into the restaurant, and I smell the singe of magic a second before Astra seems to change before my eyes. Her Mark disappears, the grime melts away. My hackles rise, but I can’t object. If she walked in as she is, they’d probably call the police.

As it is, the hostess blinks at us with uncertainty. She leads us to a table, dropping menus and striding away. We’re both other. Maybe it’s that.

There are some humans who are more sensitive to us in that regard.

“I’m going to clean up,” Astra murmurs as soon as I’ve sat.

I rise again.

She eyes me. “What are you doing?”

“Do you remember the last time you were left in a bathroom unattended?” I roll my eyes. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight, you’re deluded.”

Her whole face grows red, but she doesn’t object until we get to the door marked women. I push in ahead of her, and she lets out a squeak.

It’s just a one-person bathroom. No stalls. My stubbornness sets in, and I lock the door.

The scent of her magic, the mix of honey and lemon that is her, fills the room. Her glamour falls away, revealing her Mark, the dirt clinging to her skin. The shadows under her eyes are worse in the glaring fluorescent lights.

She crosses her arms. “What are you doing?”

“Humor me, Astra.” My voice is husky. I need her close, if only to destroy the mate bond once and for all. To rid myself of this need to be so close to her. It’s painful. Why do wolves choose this?

All I can focus on are her damn lips. She leans on the sink counter, gripping its edge, and tips her head back when I step up close to her.

I kiss her.

Can’t help it.

What starts gentle becomes an inferno. She grasps at my waist, and I draw her closer. I want her flush against me. I nip her lower lip. She gasps.

I take advantage, sliding my tongue into her mouth. Every inch of me wants to possess her, and I can’t hide this feeling—I won’t. Not after I just strode into my cousin’s territory and fought him. Not for myself, not for the betterment of my pack. For her.

I nip her lower lip again, coaxing a whimper from her. Her hands fist my shirt. I lift her onto the counter and spread her legs, stepping between them. She locks her ankles behind me, and our kiss never breaks.

Does she like my taste?

Does she feel how deep my obsession runs?

Did she miss me or pray that I would come?

I hope she didn’t give up.

Her hands coast under my shirt, across my abdomen. Her fingers find the healed claw marks from my fight with Gage, seeming to probe for a reaction. When I give her none, she moves lower. She unbuckles my pants and shoves them down.

I tense when she wraps her fingers around my shaft. My hips flex, sliding my dick in her grip. Her hold is too light, but her inexperience is charming.

“Have you done this before?” I ask her. Has she touched someone else like this? Because I’ll hunt them down and cut their appendages off.

She shakes her head.