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She was a whimpering, squirming mess as I pulled the fabric down over the windows and settled in the seat across from her. Her head hung back, her skirt bunched in her fists as she tried to keep her body from moving of its own accord. “Oh, my gods, I hate this, I hate this, I fucking hate this. How does anyone live this way?”

A half laugh slipped out of me, and her head lifted, gaze threatening to carve my heart out. “It’s not always so … torturous,” I told her. “Most lycans are raised knowing what to expect. It makes it tolerable to simply be prepared. To be able to express it. Holding it back is an explosion waiting to happen.”

“You don’t say.”

She was shaking, her hands still clutching her skirts, knuckles white. I took a deep breath and moved to sit beside her. I pulled one of her legs over mine, my hand sliding up to her slick-soaked inner thighs. I mumbled a slew of curses while I slid my fingers through her wetness. She practically melted into the carriage bench. I stroked and teased her, bringing her to the edge and then stopping before restarting.

She swore at me so loudly and colorfully that I was sure Magdalena was hearing every word. “Quiet, wolfsbane,” I whispered against the shell of her ear. “You don’t want to traumatize your friend, do you?”

“She’ll survive,” she gritted out as she moved in time with my hand.

I couldn’t help but grin.

She shuddered as the climax overtook her, but from the remaining sheen of sweat on her body as we continued traveling, and the unbearable warmth radiating from her, I knew it wouldn’t keep her satisfied.

“I hate this,” she mumbled again. “And I want you. And I hate that, too.”

Hearing the words did nothing to deflate my erection. Gods, I wanted her too, but not like this. Her hand moved to my thigh, but I pressed my palm over it, stalling her. “Breathe for a moment,” I said. “When we get to Magdalena’s place, you should hydrate. I assume she’ll have blood?”

She narrowed her eyes on me.

“Hydrate, take a bath to relax your body, and we’ll ease into this somehow.”

Words I never expected to come out of her filled the space. Heavy and unexpected. “Sylvan, I’m afraid.”

I resisted pulling her into my arms, as if that could quell her fears. I slid my thumb over the back of her hand still on my leg. “Of what?”

“Losing control. Taking this step. It’s like … accepting this part of me I’ve fought so hard to push away.”

“I know.” I laced my fingers with hers and she leaned into me. Gods, it was so strange. Aura Nygaard wasn’t touchy-feely. She wasn’t completely herself—I needed to remember that. “I’m afraid, too,” I told her. “But I’ll be there, and like I said, we won’t do anything you don’t want to. What is something you absolutely do not want to happen during all of this?”

She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked right into my eyes. “I don’t want to be bitten. By any means.”

“Alright,” I said. “I will keep these teeth to myself.”

She lay her head down again. “And De Lacy?”

“Yes, Nygaard?”

“Don’t let me bite you either.”

It hit me that the possibility was very high. Being a hybrid, she had teeth and fangs meant for biting, marking, and feeding. And in Aura’s case, for infecting. I hadn’t thought of her Lobofebris in all of this. I hadn’t thought of the effects of a bite, nor what she’d once said about vampires and feeding from a source.

Usually in the context of sex.

Shit.

“Why aren’t you agreeing?” asked Aura.

“I won’t let you bite me,” I said. “But if you’re out of control in that moment, how do you want me to stop you?”

There was a heavy pause. “You have permission to use your alpha bark.”

The thought was strangely invigorating when it shouldn’t have been. I nodded. “Then I will. But only if needed.” We were quiet for a while before I asked, “Aura, what if it’s not the Lobofebris worsening but just your Heat approaching? All the symptoms are the same.”

“I can’t let myself hope like that,” she said.

“But what⁠—”