Page 145 of Moon Claimed

“What’s your problem?” I hissed. “There was no need for that.”

“There’s a need,” he disagreed in a savage tone, dropping my pack.

I was crushed against his hard chest, eyes wide as his arms wrapped around me, palms splaying across my back.

Warmth pulsed between us, easing my tension. Chin on my head, Greyson sighed, stroking my hair and back in turn. That apparently wasn’t enough to reassure him. Scooping me up, he took us to the green, leather couch lining the far wall, and sat us down.

“I’m soaking.” But my grip on his suit jacket tightened.

Why did it have to feel so right?

And unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

Perfect.

Off-limits.

Doomed to fail.

“My friends will search for me.” I pulled back, averting my attention.

Greyson captured my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. “I thought you were leaving the valley.”

That’s why they were so upset? “I can’t leave the valley.”

He glanced away. “I know. And even knowing that, we feared.”

My reply was soft. “I see.”

“I want to bite you, Andie,” he growled. “I want to chase your wolf and claim her with my fangs.”

I shivered, genuinely afraid at the thought. His fangs were fucking massive.

His nostrils flared, and his eyes blazed brighter still.

“Youlikemy fear.” I glared, crossing my arms.

Greyson didn’t deny it. “The scent drives me wild. Wild to protect you. Wild for you. But I am of the understanding that biting you without permission could make you very upset.”

Sascha had been at work. I almost smiled. “Yes, I would be upset. It’s my body, and I get to decide when things like that happen.”

Greyson kissed my forehead. “I will wait as long as I can, but I recognise neither human nor wolf custom, only instinct. What is offensive to a human is rarely offensive to a wolf.”

I had a living, breathing predator within me now. She certainly didn’t share my boundaries, likes, and dislikes. Especially pertaining to buttholes and who saw them. “Thanks for telling me, I guess.”

His eyes darkened once more, and honey returned.

“Andie.” Sascha’s smooth tone curled my toes.

Our scents swirled, dancing and touching and merging. The combination made my head swim.

His lips were inches from me.

So painfully close.

Should I kiss him?

Would he let me?