Page 82 of A Trial of War
“Zola,” I breathed.
She blinked up at me, leaning against the frame with arms crossed at her chest. “Shaw.”
Her cheeks were faintly flushed under her tawny skin. Her normally biting gaze was a little too soft, a little too unfocused.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in, shifter?”
“You don’t need an invitation,” I said, stepping aside.
She raised her brow, pushing off the frame, and entered. It was endearing how she was trying very, very hard to hide it. The slight sway of her stance and the way her fingers curled against the doorframe for balance would have gone unnoticed by anyone—aside fromme.
I’d spent enough time studying her to catch even the smallest crack in her armor.
The toe of her boot caught on the edge of the rug, and I moved without thinking. I caught her around the waist and turned her toward me, her body crashing against mine. Heat shot through me so fast it stole my breath. Her hands gripped my shoulders, fingers digging into bare skin. And her eyes? Her eyes swept boldly, hungrily, over every exposed inch of me.
The world narrowed to a single heartbeat. And every stupid question once swirling in my head vanished. I could sense my female’s emotions rising, threatening to break through the walls that kept everyone in her life at bay.
Then, the bondflaredin a violent pulse of heat, swirling with desire and longing. The need for a connection.
My panther slammed against me with a snarl, claws scraping, fangs bared. The instinct to seal our bond gnawed at the final threads of my self-control.
My mate.
Claim her. Bite her.Consume her. Take her.
The instinct was so sharp, so primal, it punched the air from my lungs. I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself as her body pressed into mine. Her scent of rain and steel wrapped around me like the shadows at her command.
“Shaw,” she whispered, her voice soft and breathy.
My grip tightened involuntarily on her waist, keeping her upright, keeping her close. Gods, she felt like fire in my arms, and I was willing to burn alongside her if she’d let me.
Every breath in my body… every piece of the caged, tortured, hardened male I’d been forged into roared with a single truth:Zola is mine.
I forced a breath past the pounding heat, voice low. “Zola,” I said, trying to remain in control, “what are you doing here?”
Zola’s fingers curled into my shoulders, her breathing brushing warmth across my chest.
“I was coming to find you,” she murmured, before swallowing heavily.
This was unlike her. My head was spinning trying to figure her out.
“I came here to tell you that I-I wanted…” Her words tangled, drifting off.
A pulse of desire roared through me, threatening to swallow reason whole. But I forced myself to settle and hold on to the thin thread of control I had left.
My female wasn’t herself. There was a hesitation in her voice that I couldn’t bear to hear. No matter how much the bond burned, I would not claim her tonight.
I pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “No.”
The word came out low, strained, and her face snapped up at me, offense slicing through her haze. She jerked back, stumbling, brows narrowing into a scowl.
But my arms tightened, steadying her before she could leave. Icouldn’tlet her go.
“Shaw?” she asked, hurt and anger flickering across her features. “Don’t you want to—”
“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” My voice was firmer than I intended, strained with everything I was fighting back. “Iwon’t allow it.”
Her lips parted as her look of shock softened. She gazed up at me, eyes glassy and searching. “If we’re not going to sleep together,” she said slowly, each word dipped in confusion, “then what are we going to do?”
