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His sculpted face stays carefully blank.
A dinosaur-murdering meteor craters the pit of my gut.
Blank is worse.
“I’ll go.” Before my socks hit glass, Jin yanks, tipping me onto the bed.
I land beside his long body. His fingers curl with mine, the only place we touch, but his magnetism locks me in place. “What’s it going to take to prove that you’re mine?”
My pulse thrums.
I want to ask what he scented, but I know Jin well enough to guess his nightmares.
His father’s pepper. His mother’s perfume. Reese’s hospital room.
Maybe he’s not tossing me, but he doesn’t realize what that means. “You’d have to meet Serafina.”
“Not reject?”
“Just meet. Then you’ll know who to reject.”
“Marisol.” His growl melts my bones. “Ask for what you really want.”
Now that I’m lying flat, purred by my ideal packleader, exhaustion pokes holes in my willpower.
I’ve warned Jin.
I’ve showed my evidence and all but passed him throat-first to his real mate.
Even the regret police deserve a donut break. “Hold on to me.”
Jin’s purr hitches, sultry and seductive as his rainstorm scent. “Come.”
I move across the sheets.
When I cross his invisible line, Jin drags me to his body, wrapping me in dominance as heavy and satisfying as a weighted blanket.
His rumbling purr doesn’t spark rejection.
Jin feels so safe, my eyelids sink.
I want to sleep for fifty years.
We lie together for minutes, maybe hours. Jin thumbs my hip while I breathe his reassurance, soothed by his presence and the gentle lap of waves. One-by-one, my inner tangles loosen until I’m liquid, floaty and content.
“The pack is waiting,” Jin murmurs. “Do you want them in your bed? Purring you to sleep?”
“What if I hurt—”
“Nothing hurts them worse than being away from their mate, knowing she’s in pain.”
I shudder.
Feels like teaching a toddler.
Don’t touch the stove.
I’m not your mate.
