I was frozen in place. I didn't know what to do or how to react, but my body did. My breasts tightened and something, right there, at the apex of my thighs, strummed. Heat spread from my core and had me sucking in a sharp breath, my eyes flaring wide.

"Is that your first feel of an erection, little bird?" He drove his hips up, angling and shifting me back and forth to bodily rub up against him in an obscene carnal move.

The friction of rubbing against his erection had my sex throbbing with an exquisite, greedy sensation. Pleasure exploded from my core, sweeping down my legs to the tips of my toes, up my chest, over breasts growing heavy, nipples tightening—

Holy.

Hellsgate!

Gods, it felt like nothing else.

Once or twice I'd touched myself with inexperienced, fumbling fingers. But that was nothing compared to this.

"Is it?" he coaxed, voice gone velvet.

He knew it was. He knew I was a virgin, that I'd confessed I'd never kissed anyone.

He groaned, low and guttural, his eyelids growing heavy, as he slid me back and forth. His smoldering eyes, dark and primal, were locked on my mouth. My gaze dipped down as his tongue darted out to wet his full bottom lip, white teeth flashing.

And I inhaled a tiny gasp, everything inside me melting at the sight. His gaze flicked up, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't let him see my weakness. That every single inch of me hummed—for him.

Yet, I couldn't resist from purposely squirming against him to deepen that lustful ache spearing through my center. My movements made his erection pulse and grow harder, and gods, the feel of that considerable length only intensified that greedy strumming between my legs—

His erection felt enormous—

My core grew slicker, dampening my panties.

My eyes flew open and shock rounded my mouth.

How could I be aroused by someone who despised me this much? How could he?

I didn't understand. "You don't even like me."

"I despise you," he said with a half-smile, almost with sorrow.

"Your..." What do I say, what do I call it?

"My what?" His gaze sharpened and his smile broadened. He knew exactly what I meant. "Go on, my what?' he purred, challenging me.

I cleared my throat. "That thing pressing into me says otherwise."

"Cock."

I spluttered, my cheeks heating, refusing—

He flipped us both in a whirl of male strength. His hard body pressed me deeper into the soft mattress as he raised my arms above my head. One of his hands caged mine and the other hand wound my braid around his wrist. His fingers fisted my hair, tugging to arch my neck and give him access.

I stilled, inhaling through my nose, my scalp burning.

Wh-what is he doing?

Heat. A sting. Soothing.

The contrary sensations of his mouth slowly registered as he worked his way up my throat. Pain and pleasure plaited together. A lick. A nip of teeth. Open-mouthed kisses. His rough voice rumbled against my flesh. "Go on, say it, little bird. Say cock."

The words were a sensual lick between my thighs.

And my mouth went bone dry.

I should have been shocked. I should have been shoving him off. I should have been screaming at him.

But I was doing none of those things.

The words were humiliating, my reaction more so. My inner sex painfully clenched around nothing.

I gasped, as he kissed tiny kisses along my jawline. His scent, that woodsy cedar scent washed over me, intoxicating and heady.

His face drew flush with mine and his forehead rested against my own, his black eyes hazy with lust. His lips ghosted mine as he said, "Say, that cock pressing into my pussy says otherwise."

And he rocked into me—

And everything, everything—

Caught fire!

I was adrift in a sea of feeling. Tossed and pushed and dragged under on heated, whirling currents of sensation. Pulsing. Skin alight and tight. Aching. My voice was gone. All coherent thought eluded me. Just lust. Desire. Need. Want.

The creature inside arched and purred and thrummed in time with my heartbeat, with the pulsing of my clit.

And the air stirred. A warm breeze swirled, ruffling curtains and loose papers on my nightstand, as that power I kept locked inside slipped free.

What is happening to my body?

Gods, what is this?

Why did the feel of him, that masculine bulge, the thin fabric of my panties, the fine material of his dress pant—even the harsh zipper, the placket—added something obscene and desirous as he rocked again and again and again, and some dark part of me craved it, craved him.

He chuckled, his breath kissing my lips. "You like, little bird? Want more?"

No.

Yes.

I don't know.

He ground himself against that small bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, winding me tighter and tighter and tighter.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I whispered on a rough breath.

"If you want me to stop, tell me."

Yes.

No.

I couldn't think. My world was spinning around me, so many thoughts threading through my mind. But the loudest: more, more, more.

And when he touched me—those calloused fingertips releasing my wrists to lazily glide down my arm, my neck, my shoulder, brushing along the curve of a breast—those thoughts exploded into fragments I couldn't hold onto anymore. Couldn't string into sense. I became something else, drowning beneath an undertow of sensation.

Freed, my hands pawed at him, pushed him away only to pull him closer, tightened and released, and grabbed for more. His muscles rippled wherever I touched him.

He groaned, low and gruff and desperate, his breath hot against my throat. "Gods, that fucking scent of yours...." He slowly ground his hips against mine. And this time—

I knew, I just knew, I was on the cusp—

Just one more rock—

One more grind of his erection against my clit—

And I'd fall fall fall—wings spread wide to take flight—but I'd fall instead.

My back bowed. My eyes squeezed shut. My teeth bit down on my bottom lip hard—swallowing back the cry, the moan, the desperate need to push back, to grind back against him and steal it for myself.

His hand cupped my breast and he pinched my nipple beneath the silky fabric of my dress and the soft thin cotton of my bra. "Oh gods—" A moan escaped my throat. My hips bucked. Bucked again, when I felt his mouth kiss and lick my throat, his firm lips brush along my jawline.

I was there, right there, swaying on a precipice, ready to fall—

"I want inside, little bird," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "I want the first feel of your pussy clenching my cock."

And the words speared through my haze of heat.

My eyes flashed open to find his half-hooded and glazed over with lust, the abyss of those black eyes endless with want.

This was Graysen Crowther. My enemy.

I couldn't want him.

You do.

I don't.

This was a joke. He was making me into a joke. A joke he'd probably share with his brothers. How easily he'd made me wet. Made me want him back.

His mouth hovered over mine. My lips parted—

He groaned, the vibration from his throat dancing along my lips, nearly undoing me.

And there was an incessant need to let him kiss me, to feel his tongue push inside—

But he was wrong, so wrong.

His tongue slowly slid along my lower lip and even I couldn't hold back the moan. Couldn't stop myself from pushing my hips back against his, my hands clenching and releasing his shoulders over and over and over again.

He answered with a desperate growl, and his lips claimed mine, tongue licking into my mouth—

Gods, his mouth, his lips were so right—

But I couldn't. I just couldn't—

I didn't want to be the joke, the girl he laughed at.

And I bit. Hard.

He jerked back, infuriated, his words muffled behind the hand he pressed to his mouth. "The fuck?!"

And I slapped him with everything I had. His head whipped to the side with the force.

He roared, the sound of his fury exploding through the room. He surged forward, grabbing hold of my arms, and leaning over me.

I bared my teeth. "Sage." Barely a whisper. But the soft sound was nothing to a wraith-wolf.

The mattress dipped and Graysen froze. Pain flared in his eyes, overriding the lust and rage. He gritted his teeth and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Tell your fucking dog to unlatch its fangs from my leg."

"When you let me go."

He uncurled his hands from my arms, one finger at a time. I scrambled from beneath him, scooting from the bed and rising to face him. We glared at one another, and this time my fury outmatched his.

Sage, snarled and wrestled his head from side to side, his jaws digging around Graysen's calf, as he tried to drag him from the bed.

I deliberated a moment, a good lengthy pause before calling Sage off. The wraith-wolf took even longer to obey my command, panting hard and still snarling as he unlatched vicious fangs from Graysen. Blood dripped onto the carpet.

I jabbed a finger at the door. "Now get the fuck out of my bedroom!"

His pant leg had been shredded, slick with blood and saliva, but it didn't seem to disturb him in the slightest. Without a wince or even a limp, he pushed himself off my bed, stalking toward the open doorway. Before he left, he turned back, lingering at the threshold, his hands loosely gripping the door frame above as he relaxed his posture, his body swaying forward. He gave a smug grin as his gaze slowly swept over my body. His voice was low and lazy. "You can hate-fuck me anytime you want, little bird."

Rage burned my blood. I knew there was no possible way I could actually kill him, but I couldn't resist the attempt.

My skirt flared wide as I yanked it out of the way to snatch out my dagger—

Whipped my arm back—

And threw it so fast he barely had time to react.

Graysen jerked his head back just as his hands clapped around the flat of the blade, stopping it from outright burying itself in his forehead. But the very tip of the deadly weapon had broken skin. He glared at me while blood dripped from the wound in long, thin streaks, over a thick eyebrow, running down the side of his nose in lines of crimson. A creaking sound filled the space between us as he shifted his hands so his fingers clenched around the hilt and the tip of the blade, threatening to snap it in half with his anger.

At that moment, in those heartbeats separating us from what could have been to this, he could have done anything. He could have thrown the dagger back, faster, harder. Could have lunged for me again and made me hurt. Instead, he did the one thing I didn't expect. He tossed the dagger up into the air in a careless arc so it thudded into the mattress of my bed and he threw his head back and burst into laughter, a full belly rumbling of genuine laughter that shook his entire body. His black eyes sparkled in amusement. "See how it'd be, little bird?" A wink accompanied his cocky grin. "War. Fucking. War."

The door slammed behind him when he left and I spun around and flopped down onto my bed, only to jerk back up after smelling his intoxicating scent on my linen.

I was angry at him, at the humiliation. But I was angrier at myself, at my body's betrayal. Why the hells did I want him? Why did he inspire such a reaction? His touch, his taste, his scent...Gods it was all over me.

I should shower, definitely.

Only pride had kept me from kissing him back and doing other more sensual, intimate things with him.

Despite all his threats, all his past denials, I'd aroused him. Me.

He'd aroused me too.

I shook my head, trying to shake the thought of him from my mind—how he felt, his hard body pressing against mine, pushing me deeper into the soft mattress, rocking into me—

I squeezed my thighs together. Gods, I was still simmering and scorching and wanting some kind of release.

Sage nuzzled into my side, disrupting the building sensation between my legs and the ache in my breasts.

But part of me wondered, as my gaze flicked to my bedroom door, what it might be like with someone like him. Graysen Crowther wasn't the type of guy to make love. He'd fuck. And he was right, it would be war.

I paced the room. I wasn't in the mood to rejoin Evvie and the Pelans, too jumpy and twitchy, my nerves too strung out. "What am I going to do, Sage?"

Ignore him? Avoid him? Two more days with him is going to be hells.

The creature let out a rasping chuckle.