CHAPTER 43: A SHADOW WOLF

As soon as he asked the question, his hand moved. He tugged at the edge of the blanket, and it slipped from her fingers before she could stop it. The fabric fell to the floor in silence, leaving her exposed.

Emira’s first instinct was to grab it back, to cover herself, but before she could move, Zen caught her wrist, stopping her. "Don’t," he said softly. She felt herself flush from head to toe as his gaze moved over her slowly. Everywhere she felt him look, she could feel the heat so intense that she forgot to breathe. There was no teasing look in his eyes now...only heat that made her heart pound harder.

She shivered, not from the cold but from the warmth spreading under her skin, rising until it felt like she might break apart. Before she knew what she was doing, Emira stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

She pressed herself against him, her movements shaky, desperate. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t careful. It was raw need that had been building until she couldn’t hold it back anymore. It was better to throw herself at him rather than some stranger. Just as the thought come to her head, she came to a shattering conclusion. Prince Zen was a shadow wolf... which meant that the others were... Before she could complete her thoughts, the prince wrapped his arms around her, his hands coming to rest on her lower back.

His arms tightened around her, holding her still.

She felt his breath against her hair, warm, steady, too controlled. Like he was fighting himself.

"Emira," he said, low. Almost a warning.

But she couldn’t stop. Her body pressed closer, chasing the cool she felt rolling off him in waves. The steady thud of his heart pounded against her ear, and it only made her grip him harder. She wanted to get closer still and she tried to, as if she could merge her body with his.

His hands moved. Slow, deliberate over her naked body. One up her spine, the other gripping her waist like he owned it.

Her breath hitched.

"Do you even know what you’re asking for?" His words were quiet, dangerous.

She shook her head. She didn’t. Not really. All she knew was the fire under her skin, the way his touch lit it higher and cooled it at the same time, confounded her until she couldn’t think straight.

He shifted then and the motion pulled her tighter against him. She felt every line of his body, solid and unmoving, holding her like he was the only thing keeping her upright. And then she hated it. She wanted to feel his skin against her. Not the clothes... They chafed.

And she wanted him to kiss her. She needed to feel his lips...She raised her face to his. And still, he didn’t kiss her. Didn’t push. It made her burn even worse.

His jaw clenched as she tilted her face up. Her mouth close, waiting.

Zen’s gaze lingered on her lips before dragging back to her eyes, and something in him snapped. His arms crushed her against him, hard enough that she felt the edge of control shudder through him.

She trembled but didn’t stop. Her hands moved to his shoulders, then lower, exploring him through the layers he wore, frustrated when all she felt was fabric. It wasn’t enough.

He groaned, a sound deep in his chest, rough and torn from him like it cost him something to let it out. For a second she thought he would finally give in—right here, right now.

But instead, he moved.

One moment she was on her feet, the next she was off the ground, his arms lifting her effortlessly. She gasped and clung to him, her legs tightening around his hips instinctively as he carried her across the room.

The bathroom door slammed open under his shoulder.

He didn’t slow, striding straight into the small bathing pool sunk into the floor. Water lapped around his legs as he stepped in, holding her close, his grip iron and unyielding.

Her chest rose and fell fast against him. The heat inside her raged higher, wild and raw, as she clung to him. She thought—hoped—this was it, that he was about to lose the control he clung to so fiercely.

Instead, the water rose higher, surrounding them both, and for a moment, disappointment cut through her confusion. Was this all he meant to do? Cool her down?

Then his mouth crashed down on hers. The kiss burned through everything—the water, the restraint, the ache that had been driving her mad. His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back as his mouth claimed hers hard, deep, a sharp answer to every desperate, wordless plea she hadn’t spoken.

She rubbed herself against him, feeling the hardness of him pressing near her heat, even through the layer of clothing...

He broke the kiss only long enough to drag in a breath, his forehead pressed to hers, eyes shut like he was hanging by a thread.

Then his mouth was on her again, harder, stealing the air from her lungs as the heat in her belly twisted tighter, hotter, until she didn’t know where to put her hands, her legs, her mind.

She clutched at him helplessly, nails scraping his shoulders, the water moving around them in ripples as she trembled in his grip. The pressure inside her built fast, merciless, until it felt like she might tear apart from the inside out.

And when he shifted his hold, pulling her even closer, and his hand touched the core of her... She unraveled then, coming apart with just a single touch. Mindlessly, she had only one thought in her head, "The edge came rushing up too fast to fight."

Her body locked, a sharp cry lost against his mouth as everything shattered at once, heat crashing over her in a blinding wave she couldn’t control and could only tighten herself around his hand