Page 99 of A Lady’s Guide to Werewolves

“I might, actually. Just to show you how wrong you are. Because you do matter.” Incensed, she poked him hard in the chest. A soft rumble went through him. His eyes flashed gold again and stayed that way. “And I don’t actually want safe, you idiot man. I never did. I want you. As you are. A good man, and also a wolf. Honestly, I am beginning to think your wolf is the smart one.”

“My wolf is not as civilized as I am. He…wants things.”

“Such as?”

His jaw clenched, unclenched. Clenched again.

Sorcha lifted her chin stubbornly. “You made me tell you I wanted to kiss you that day in the library. So you’ll tell me this now.” She folded her arms. “I am not going anywhere. And apparently, neither are you.”

A beat of silence. Then the silent sawing of ropes against tree bark, the rumble of a sigh in Aidan’s chest. That ever-present hint of growl. “He wants…the chase. The hunt.”

“To chase me?” she asked quietly. “To hunt me.” A shiver went through her. Not fear, exactly. More of a thrill. Her nipples pebbled, tight and hard under her dress.

Apparently, being chased was not something she was opposed to when it came to Aidan.

“Interesting,” she murmured.

He groaned. “Sorcha, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do whatever you’re contemplating right now. It’s not a game. I wasn’t born a wolf; I was turned. I told you that.”

“Why does that make a difference?”

“Those who are born wolves are better at controlling the wolf.”

She snorted, thoroughly unconvinced. “Are you telling me you think that Lorcan has better self-control than you? Or Brutus?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “You don’t trust your wolf.” She stepped closer, pressing against him, her breasts flattened against his chest, his breath on her cheek. She reached around to tug at the knots. “But I do. I trust you both.”

The rope fell away.

Aidan surged away from the tree, nose dragging against her throat, breath turning ragged and desperate, hands gripping her hard. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” he muttered.

“Don’t I?”

“I can smell you everywhere, on me, in the air. Fire and salt and raspberries and fresh bread. Your taste is still in my mouth. Sometimes I think I could come from just one lick of you, one bite.” His teeth were sharp under her jaw, along the line of her shoulder. It made her whimper. It made her want. “My wolf could eat you up.”

“And if I said stop?”

Aidan released her, staggering back, every muscle, every tendon, every bone in his body responding. His eyes burned gold; his breath was more wolf than man. Power surged under his skin.

And yet he stopped.

“Exactly as I thought,” she said. “Your wolf protects me.”

“Yes. But—”

“Aidan?”

“Aye?”

She smiled, slow and smug. A dare. “Come and get me.”

Sorcha was used to running over the hills and through the forest chasing paper birds and wounded monsters.