The Mate Hunt
The way Maeve faced down death as if she might seduce it, bargain with it, turn it aside for the sake of someone she loved.
That thought sent a jolt of heat through me... imagining her pressed against a tree, breathless but defiant, her body thrumming with challenge, her eyes daring me to try and claim her. I wanted to catch her, pin her wrists, feel her struggle and surrender.
Her scent lingered in the air, sharp and sweet, and my mouth watered at the idea of tasting the sweat on her skin, the wildness under her pulse.
I straightened, letting my voice carry through the trees. “You’re slowing down, little wolf.”