My blood boils even while I yearn to experience what it means to belong to Ilan. How dare he make such a claim without telling me the reason he’s denied our connection. For years. I’ve felt it. I thought I was crazy for the intense longing too. Apparently, I wasn’t crazy, and Ilan better have a good reason for making me feel like I was pathetic for desiring someone who acted as if I didn’t exist.
The moment Mira and Josh leave, I carry the sleeping baby to the bassinet, close the door to the first floor where Ezra’s jaguar form retreated, then step into the kitchen. My flannel, the comfy kind that’s meant for around the house, is still where I left it. I snag it from the chair and slip my arms into it.
Ilan grips the edges before I can button the shirt.
Standing this close, I’m reminded how built Ilan is compared to other men I’ve known. I feel tiny next to him, and I’m not exactly petite. Far from it, actually. I’m sturdy. Tough. Even if I am a Goody Two-shoes. At least I can pull off a two-minute plank.
“Why were you in a bra when I walked in here?” The growl to Ilan’s voice is more prominent than normal.
“Skin-to-skin contact is important for babies, especially shifter newborns. Mira thought it’d be best if he gets used to my scent too. She seemed to think I’d be taking care of him.” I crane my head back to look at Ilan. “Is she right?”
“Yes.”
Ilan doesn’t specify which part of my statement is correct, however. I can’t allow for misunderstandings. No longer will I be ignored. Not now that I know my importance to Ilan. Of course, I don’t actually know what I am to him other than his. Mira never pushed the point. I could simply be this baby’s caretaker.
Brow raised, I stare at Ilan. The corner of his mouth rises ever so slightly, and his eyelids lower a fraction of an inch. Had I not been absorbing every nuance of his expression, I might’ve missed the little clues to his amusement. “Yes to the skin contact, my scent, or my role?”
“All of them.” Ilan pushes the shirt off my shoulders so the flannel slides to my elbows. “Now ask me the question that’s put that glint in your eyes.”
How does this man know when something is eating at me? I guess this moment isn’t any different from the one outside my house earlier this morning. Both times stemmed from a major revelation. He was honest with me last time. Hopefully, he will be again.
“Okay.” I nod. “You told Mira I’m yours. What exactly does that mean?”
His eyelids lower more. His lips part on a slow exhale. He lowers his head. With his mouth a fraction away from mine, he breathes. His inhale steals the air from my lungs and replaces it with his. Light-headedness grips me after a moment. Reaching between our bodies, I fist his shirt. The flannel hooked at my elbows stretches, reminding me of my half-dressed state. While I didn’t feel uncomfortable in front of Mira and her husband, I do now.
A vulnerability settles over me. My heartbeat quickens, the sound of my blood racing in my veins pounding in my ears. Weakness leaves my limbs trembling. I tighten my hold on Ilan’s shirt, bunching the cotton in my hands.
The soft caress of Ilan’s fingertips over the thumping vein in my neck eases the tremors in my legs, saving me from crumpling to the ground at Ilan’s feet.
“Do not fear this.” Ilan’s lips brush mine with each word. “It’s as natural as the cycle of the moon.”
Ilan’s comparison makes my heart flutter and slows the rapid beat. I feel my body calming under his touch, much as the baby’s cries had slowed last night under Ilan’s caress. “What is this power you hold over me?”
He moves his hands to my shoulders. His firm hold is the gentlest I’ve ever felt. Odd that his grip could elicit such a sensation of reverence within me. “It’s the same as you hold over me, Sara.”
“I don’t understand.” My breathless voice doesn’t shake. It’s not weak either. There’s an anticipation surrounding this moment I don’t understand. As if it’s life altering.
“You will.” Ilan’s softly spoken words wind through me, revving the expectancy until every inch of me is aware, excited for what Ilan will do.
“Will I?”
“Yes.”
Ilan tilts his head. The press of his lips against mine firms, urging me to open to him. I do. No thought of resisting crosses my mind. I’ve been dreaming about kissing Ilan for nearly all my adult life.
His tongue slides against mine, a sensual caress. Not a kiss, exactly. It’s more intimate. He curls his tongue around mine before exploring my mouth as if he’s memorizing every inch. The rolling thrusts steal my sanity. I’ve never been kissed like this. As if Ilan is trying to crawl into my body, love me in a way no man ever has, and leave a piece of himself behind.
On an exhaled sigh, he swallows, I arch into him. As if it’s the sign he’s waiting for, Ilan makes a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan. Not a sound any human would make. He’s not human, though. He’s a predator, one who fought to protect me. One who promised I’d never be alone. One who claimed I’m his.
Sharper teeth descend the longer our tongues duel. Fangs. My mind supplies the detail. Ilan’s fangs are poking through the line of his straight teeth, turning this kiss into a dangerous melding of mouths. One of those sharper teeth nicks me. The copper tang of blood fills my mouth. A hint of chocolate overcomes the bitter taste and destroys the twinge of pain.
Ilan sucks on my tongue, jerking my body and awakening needs I’ve ignored for years. The instant punch of desire leaves me trembling.
It’s been so long since I’ve held a man inside me. Ilan will shatter every notion I have of what good sex is supposed to be like. I don’t doubt that. Having his lips on mine has obliterated memories of kissing other men. I’m in unfamiliar territory, a human in the arms of a primitive male.
A whimper tears from my throat. The sound’s muffled, but my body quivers as a tremor runs down my spine. Ilan’s hold on my shoulders firms more, his fingertips biting into my skin and pushing me to the cusp of pain and submission. After seeing the primal side of this powerful man, there’s only one choice I want to make.
I abandon my tight grip on his shirt and link my hands behind Ilan’s neck, giving myself to him and forcing him to hold me up. I don’t fear Ilan. I crave him. Always have. And I won’t lose my opportunity to indulge my hunger.
Ilan presses one hand to my lower back, the other between my shoulder blades, and tilts my body so only his hold on me is keeping me upright. He bends over me, surrounding me. Every breath I take fills my lungs with Ilan’s forest scent. His warmth beckons me closer. I want to rip his shirt off and press my chest to his.
I need Ilan to ease the ache deep inside me, to complete me. Only he can. The thought takes hold. I can’t lose him. He’s mine too.
With my nails scraping Ilan’s scalp, I hold him in place and take control of this kiss, leading where I only followed moments ago. A wildness I can’t explain consumes me. Deeper and deeper, I kiss Ilan until I know every inch of his mouth as he knows mine.
More chocolate-flavored blood enhances the melding of our mouths. The taste pushes my needs higher. I abandon Ilan’s head and drag my nails over his back. The elastic waistband of his sweats meets my wandering hands. I grip it and tug, exposing the backside I saw only briefly last night.
On a raw curse, Ilan breaks the kiss. In the next heartbeat, I’m spun, my back to Ilan’s chest. My hands are tugged behind me, the flannel finally slipping free. He holds my wrists in a firm grip with one hand and my chin with the other, then turns my face so I’m staring into glowing orange eyes.
“Sara.” The growl to Ilan’s voice rumbles in his chest. “Tell me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” I focus on those inhuman and breathtakingly beautiful eyes. “I want you to prove to me I’m yours.”
The orange color overtakes the white. Black and brown streaks bisect his all-orange eyes. I suck in a sharp breath at the sight of them. These are his wolf’s eyes. I’ve brought out his primitive side, unleased a primal male on myself.
“Oh God.” Anticipation builds within me, stronger than before.
Ilan smiles. Well, he raises the corners of his mouth, revealing his wickedly hot fangs. “With you, I can be godlike. Only with you.”
I don’t get a chance to question his odd words. He kisses me again. Held immobile against his chest, I can’t arch into him. I can’t lead him. I can’t move. All I can do is feel. And I do. I experience everything, from the press of his mouth to the sharp tug on my wrists as he holds me firmly in place for his bruising kiss. Mostly, though, the truth resonates within me.
Ilan owns me. I’m his. Just like he said.
Another whimper escapes me. Ilan breaks our kiss. He drags those sharp teeth along my jaw, down my throat, to the spot where my shoulder meets my neck. Then breathes. His warm breath sensitizes me. Shivers of awareness skip across my skin.
My body aches for Ilan. I open my mouth to tell him, to beg him for relief. The wet swipe of his tongue over my shoulder stops me. My eyes roll back in my head as Ilan laves my skin, deliberately licking the same spot. Numbness spreads, the sensation odd but not unwelcome.
Ilan tips my head, exposing the spot he’s focusing his attention on. A nip of his fangs sends a shudder through me. No pain accompanies the almost playful pinch. Eagerness quickens my breathing. “Ilan, again.”
His groan is the most primal I’ve ever heard. More animal than man. Still no fear or apprehension seizes me. Excitement does. “Please, Ilan.”
He firms his hold on my chin and wrists. His mouth opens around my shoulder. His fangs press into my skin. I draw in a breath, my muscles tensing. Suddenly, I want to run, to escape Ilan, to hide from this moment. I don’t get the chance to act on the primal fear. Ilan’s sharp fangs sink into my shoulder.
Pain locks my muscles, closes off my throat. I can’t even scream. Ilan grinds those deadly teeth against my bones. The scraping sounds echo in my head, followed by a heartbeat. A second heartbeat. It’s not mine. My heart wants to escape my chest. This steady beat is calm. The urge to match it overcomes me. I can’t fight it. My body’s not my own.
Ilan’s inside me.
“You’re beautiful, Sara. So pure. A haven I never thought to see. Innocence for the taking.” Ilan’s praise slips through my mind.
Eyes closed, I focus on his voice. I can almost see where he’s hidden, a bright light surrounded by something sinister and dark. The need to go to him can’t be denied. I have to touch him. I have to keep him.
My leaden limbs don’t want to move, but I force them to obey me. I take a step, then another. The temperature drops. My breath fogs. Goose bumps break out. A firm push against my chest stops me. I glance down. Shadows form a wall. I press my palm against it. Ice seeps into my skin, chilling me and leaving my teeth chattering.
“Ilan, where are you?” The compulsion to wrap myself around him is unbearable.
“Don’t worry. I have you. Your soul is safe with me.”
“My soul?”
“Yes, Sara, your soul. It’s mine.” Shadows creep over the bright white sphere. Dark fingers dig into it, gripping a section. My body seizes. The shadowy hand yanks a section out. Agony as I’ve never known clamps down on me. My heart stutters. The pain is more than I can handle.
A breath of warm air on my shoulder stops the anguish, snuffing out the torture as if it had never occurred. I drop back into my body. Ilan’s fangs pull free of my shoulder. His tongue swipes over my skin. Tingles spread. Desire follows. The change in needs is happening faster than I can comprehend.
“Ilan.” My voice sounds husky, not like me. “What happened?”
“You’re mine. I told you that, Sara.” Ilan releases the firm hold on my chin and slides his palm over my belly. “And I just made sure I’ll never lose you.”
“I don’t understand.”
My kitchen door opening ends this moment, guaranteeing I won’t be getting any more answers now. Dante and Uri walk in. Both zero in on me. Their expressions turn guarded.
Dante looks from my shoulder to the man behind me, the one who just bit me after kissing me more completely than any other man ever had. “I guess I was wrong. You’re not a coward. You’re a fool.”
“Not a fool.” Ilan releases my hands and settles both of his against my stomach, holding me as if we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. “I take opportunity when it presents itself.”
“Considering Sara’s not withering under the onslaught of what’s in your past, I’d say you mean that literally. You took.” Uri crosses his arms over his chest. His disapproving look easy to read. “You didn’t give.”
The baby lets out a cry, the kind that demands an instantaneous response or else he’ll scream his head off until he wears himself out.
I try to step away. Ilan doesn’t loosen his grip. I tip my head back. “The baby needs me.”
“I need you too, Sara. Don’t forget that.” Ilan drops his arms.
Too frazzled to look at him to judge his words, I scramble away. I can’t help but think Ilan means that literally. And that satisfies me on a level I’ll never admit to.