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But most of all, I saw it in her eyes, flashing silver in the moonlight.
And in her bite.
She tried to mark me.
When a lycan bites another near one of the arteries, it does something to lock us together—like the chemical equivalent of a knot. I didn’t let her at the time because I understood she wasn’t aware of what she was doing. But now, a deep sense of shame settles over me, my heart in my throat as I wait to wake her up. I almost let her mark me, binding us together for good.
I have to tell her.
Even if she hates me for it. Even if she thinks none of this is real.
At this point, I’m not even sure if what happened last night was because she actually wanted me or because of her instincts, and that doesn’t sit right with me in the slightest. But in the light of the unfiltered moon, I don’t think either of us could’ve stopped ourselves.
And I hope to whatever god there is that she wanted last night as much as I did.
She stirs, her brow creasing and a groan slipping over her lips. I watch as she yawns, stretching her arms up over her head, her ass arching back toward me. I exercise as much control as possible, taking care not to move in case she’s disgusted by me.
But she rolls over and smiles, and it’s like she’s cracked my chest open and ripped my heart out still beating.
“Morning, Sunshine,” I say, my voice husky from sleep.
“Hi,” she whispers. Her smile is brilliant, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. I commit this moment to memory, afraid of all the things I’m not telling her, knowing I'll need these flashbacks if I want to survive when she’s gone.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks.
I smooth her hair back with my bitten hand, wanting nothing more than to fuck her again. But her heat is in full swing now, and I don’t want to risk getting her pregnant. If she wasn’t Lycan, it wouldn’t be possible without the bite, but she’s definitely a wolf.
“Oh no,” she says, grasping my hand. “I…I don’t know what I was thinking last night. Ihurtyou.”
I shake my head, hovering over her, the blanket soft underneath us. “It’ll heal,” I say. “But Charlotte—I have to tell you something.”
She frowns. “Is this the part where you break up with me? Because I should tell you, I’m not just going to let that slide.”
I snort despite the growing dread in the pit of my stomach, leaning my forehead against hers. I can feel her soft body curling up toward me, ready for round two. And she smellsfucking delicious, which means I probablyshouldn’tfuck her.
“No,” I say. “It’s just that—”
I stop short.
Because there’s a familiar scent in the air: the same one that I smelled in Waco, right before the bridge collapsed.
“Do you smell that?” she whispers, fear in her big brown eyes.
“Lycanthropes,” I say. “We need to go.”
I push myself to my feet, scrambling for my jeans and yanking them on. I don’t have time to throw on anything else—and if I have to shift, I want to be ready. Instead, I sling my pack over my shoulders as Charlotte gets dressed in a hurry, wincing a little as she pulls her jeans up. I rush to her and take her by the shoulders, getting in close and resting my head against hers. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says, nodding. “Just…a little sore.”
“If things were different, I would spend the whole day feeding you and coddling you and kissing it better,” I say, and she smiles sadly. “But right now, we have to run.”
“I’m ready,” she says.
I know she is.
She’s stronger than she realizes.
And I’m already starting to shift, my muscles straining and stretching and changing. I wish I had more control—if I did, she could get on my back and we would be faster. But as it is, I’m still barely learning this skill, and we’ll have to go on foot.
