Page 29

“You’re warm,” she murmured. Her voice had gone lower. Slower. “And you bake bread... and protect me... and all the things.”

My hand found her hip, pulling her infinitesimally closer. Flannel bunched under my claws. Her scent—wet earth, crushed herbs, the warm green of life—coiled around me. Dangerous.

“Why are you shaking?”

The question startled a laugh from my chest. I caught her wrist, stilling the slow exploration of my ear. “You’re touching a monster. What did you expect?”

Her other hand joined the first, now fully bracketing my face, tilting my chin down so I had to meet those assessing eyes. No fear. No hesitation.

“I think,” she said deliberately, her breath ghosting warm against my jaw, “that I want to be reckless.”

And then her lips met mine.

She held still against me, giving me room to pull back, but I didn’t want to.

My arms went around her. The flannel shirt I’d given her bunched beneath my palms, and underneath, it she was warm in a way that made my hands stupid. Her fingers curled into the fur at my chest.

I pulled back. “One of us is supposed to be sensible about this.”

“Probably.” She kissed the corner of my mouth. “Not me.”

I kissed her again, deeper this time, my lips parting hers, my tongue teasing the seam of her mouth until she opened with a soft, yielding sound. Her hands slid into my hair, fingers gripping the longer strands at my nape, holding me captive.

I cupped her head, angling her perfectly, my other arm banding around her. She came willingly, molding to my frame with a sigh.

One palm pressed flat against my sternum, as if feeling the echo of my pulse beneath layers of cloth and fur. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

I made a noise somewhere between a growl and a laugh. “Debatable.”

“You know, if the rest of you is scaled up,” Hazel murmured, “the, ah, relevant parts must be quite...”

I choked out a cough. “Everything’s proportional. Just... more of it everywhere.”

I’m too big. Too much. She’ll take one look and⁠—

Her eyes narrowed playfully as she leaned closer, her small hand brushing my groin through the worn denim.

“Hazel—”

“I think I can handle one oversized—mmph!” She popped the snap. “Let me assess the, ah, specimen.”

The clinical tone nearly made me laugh despite my mortification. Then her wide blue eyes flicked to mine. “Oh my.”

I covered her mouth with mine, groaning as her laughter vibrated against my lips.

“Feeling is better than seeing,” I murmured against her mouth. I curled my claws safely under and slid the pads of my fingers beneath the lace of her plain cotton underwear—careful, always careful—and found her slick and unbearably warm. Proof.

Her hips lifted into my hand like she’d been waiting all day for me to do exactly that.

A low rumble rose from my chest, shaking the floorboards. The top of her head barely grazed my chin. Gravity pulled me down. My head dipped, jaw angling, fur brushing her temple. Her breath ghosted over my lips—sweet and warm. Closer.

I was trapped between the fear of breaking her and a savagery howling beneath my skin. Mine. Taste. Claim.

Her fingers curled into the thick pelt at my chest. A small sound escaped her, half sigh, half demand. Permission.

The leash snapped.

My arms locked around her as I kissed her harder. Her teeth scraped my lower lip, and I growled against her mouth. She answered with another breathless sound, louder this time, and I tasted oranges, cinnamon, and salt on her tongue.