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“I am not your enemy,” I repeat softly. “If I can trust you not to hurt me, you can trust me with your name.”
He hasn’t stopped staring at me. Hasn’t blinked. That raw vulnerability making him irresistible. I want to break down those walls. I want to destroy them and anyone responsible for their creation.
“Be careful looking at me that way,” he says, his voice low and gravelly with warning.
“Or what?”
“Or I won’t be able to leave.”
“Then don’t. If that’s what it takes to get the name of my mate.” What the hell am I saying?
But it’s too late. He prowls toward me until we’re inches apart. His hands slide over my waist, cool and claiming. His thumbs begin circling low on my belly. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“My mate. Say it.”
A rush of air escapes my lips. I hadn’t meant to utter that phrase, but there it is. A wave of dizziness crashes over me as the words come to life on my tongue, heavy and terrifying and final.
The moment I release them, I won’t be able to take them back. Not a second time. And I can see in his eyes what that means.
But I can’t stop my rebellious mouth from parting. My traitorous lips from curling to form each syllable. My errant lungs from sending a surge of air to release the two words that will change my life forever.
“My mate.”
His hands leave my hips and frame my face. Then his fingers slide over my jaw to cup the back of my head. Two of his fingers twine in my hair, gently controlling my head. His lips crush mine. The force startling. When his tongue enters my mouth, my eyelids snap shut, a soft moan rumbling in my throat.
Instinctively my hands go to his hair, fisting the silky strands.
He stiffens before growling into my mouth.
“Tell me you don’t want this, Summer,” he whispers. “Tell me to stop and I’ll walk away.” It’s almost a plea. Maybe he feels as out of control as I do. But I couldn’t stop this thing between us at this point even if I wanted to.
Everything after that is a blur. I’m in his arms. There’s a flash. A portal. We’re in his bedroom. Snow speckles the air like dust motes and fall over my feverish skin, tiny pinpricks of cold. My crystallized breath spills from my throat in milky bursts.
He settles me onto a pile of furs over his bed and then stares down at me with a predatory look that sets my insides ablaze. He drops to his knees and spreads my legs. I watch as his hand fists the hem of my dress. Watch as he tugs it up to my belly, his other hand stroking the inside of my exposed thighs. My newfound muscles respond to his touch, clenching and trembling.
All the nerves inside my body are melting down. I feel everything. The impossibly soft fur against the back of my bare thighs. His fingernails flicking over my skin. My silk dress as it slides up my stomach and over my head. His hungry gaze unapologetically raking over every inch of me.
I watch, mesmerized, as his slender hands move over me. Curling a finger beneath my panties, he tugs them off. My bra is next.
His eyes never once leave mine.
He wants me to see his intentions. To take in the full force of his desire. Every time I gasp, it ripples through him. Every time his fingers graze my flesh and I tremble, one corner of his mouth curls in amusement.
At one point, his gaze snags on my tattoo. His brand. He captures my wrist between his hands, holds the inside of my forearm up to his lips, and kisses the inky swirls, his mouth tracing up my arm.
There are no words between us. My rapid breathing creates a symphony in time with the wild hammering of my heart. I don’t even have a chance to feel awkward at my lack of experience because he does everything.
I wish I could say when he lowers himself onto the bed that I protest a little. Wish I could say I hesitate, even for a moment, as he claims my body as his. That Mack’s warning and Evelyn’s predicament and my own misgivings give me pause. But nothing matters except satisfying the savage, primal urge raging through every cell in my body.
I have to quench the inferno or I’ll die.
“Promise,” I breathe as his teeth capture my earlobe. My heart punches into my throat. I toss the phone and lunge for the door. The moment it opens and I see the prince’s face, I slam it shut and slide the deadbolt.
“Oh God,” I mutter. “He’s here.”
“How?” Mack screeches. She jumps from bed, sending the dark green covers sliding to the floor. “What about the wards?”
