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I was still catching my breath as I nodded. Yes. I wanted him here, but something felt off.

He frowned. “You want me to warm you up?”

“I want you to stop lying to me so I can love you. Will you swear not to lie to me again?”

He stared at me. “No,” he finally said.

“Why not?”

“It’s part of who I am. Who I’ve always been. You want the real me? Then you get a liar.”

“That’s the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever heard!” I pulled him down to kiss me. He tasted so good, honey and lightning, with a hint of peppermint.

I kissed him until he finally kissed me back, and then it was being devoured by a monster of heat and energy who touched me like he needed me, desperation growing with every kiss, every stroke of those magical fingers.

He pulled away to growl, “Why does it smell like tigers.”

I bit his chin, hard enough to give the bone pressure. Because he’d abandoned me when he was supposed to be obsessed with me like a psychopathic stalker. If he was in my bed, no way anything else would fit.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled it over my head then his mouth was on mine, greedy, hunting, taking until the tide turned, and I was the one stealing his breath, his strength, his life. It was a wrestle, a war between his energy and mine, and I was there for it. And I always would be.

I woke up with warm feet. Probably because they were tucked between the bare calves of the massive muscular man whose arm was my pillow. Whose entire body was pressed against mine. Naked.

And I’d asked for this. Because tigers. But he was a liar. And I was filing for a divorce, and this would throw a serious wrench in the works if he got a good lawyer.

“Stop thinking about divorcing me,” he rumbled, and then bit my ear hard enough to make me gasp and try to sit up. I failed because his arms were so strong, and I was wrapped up so thoroughly in them.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” I said, still struggling to escape his arms but not very hard because he felt too good. Why did he have to feel so good when he had face-tattoos?

“Stop thinking about my face-tattoos.”

I elbowed him. “Seriously, get out of my head.”

“Or I could get into your head in ways you’ve never known you wanted a man to be inside you.”

I reached back and slapped my hand over his mouth. “Seriously, not appropriate, whether you have face-tattoos or not.”

He laughed a muffled laugh beneath my fingers. He finally relaxed his grasp on me, and I was able to roll out of bed, wrapping the sheet around me. I whirled around to face the large man sprawled in the bed, making it look nowhere near as large as it was with just me. He looked so good, relaxed, almost happy.

I sniffed and raised my chin. “You took advantage of my moment of weakness.”

“And you took advantage of my inherent need to make my wife happy.”

“I’m sure. That was all about my happiness.” I glowered at him. How dare that tattoo-faced liar claim that! Although, come to think of it, he’d already turned down the deal to sleep with me.

He gave me a slow, sinful smile. “You need me.”

“I do not!”

“You do. Without me, you’re going to be wiped out by the magic users gathering outside the iron gates at this very moment.”

I stiffened up and then went to the window and opened it so I could lean out and see into the front yard. There was a group of people in suits, looking like tax collectors instead of magic users. But there was Lark, if that was actually his real name.

“What do they want?”

“No idea. Shall we ask them?” His voice was casual, amused, and completely wrong for this situation.

I spun around to glare at the man with his bare chest and tiny smirk. He looked the opposite of worried. “You could be honest, if you worked really hard.”