Chapter 1 #2
So he did. He turned on the machine, pulled milk from the refrigerator and honey from the cabinet.
He did everything by rote, while each motion reinforced the human side of his personality.
He ground the beans, measured out the espresso shots, and filled a large mug.
Without conscious decision, he added chocolate and whipped cream, then drizzled the honey across the top before offering it to her.
A gift for the woman who would be his mate.
No.
The man cut off the thought, knowing that it came from the animal. This was a gift for the woman who’d risked her life by waking him. That made her stupid, not a life mate. And why the hell would she come here when she was fertile? Good God, who would be that stupid?
Every normal human woman would be that stupid, he answered himself. It was only the shifters who scented fertility and thought about what that broadcast to the world. Which meant this woman was fully human and completely ignorant of his kind.
He ought to throw her out of the county. Until her cycle ended, she was a temptation to every young boy in the flush of his first season. Though, if he were honest, she was in the most danger from him.
She looked perplexed as he held out the drink.
He ought to be drinking it instead of giving it to her.
He needed all the caffeine he could get right then.
But she was his female—a woman, the man corrected, and not his at all.
She was a woman in his home and this was as polite as he could manage.
If she took it, though, that would seal her fate.
The grizzly would take it as a sign of agreement to mate.
There was nothing Mark could do to stop that. Her only hope was if she left while he remained in control of himself. Which made it the man’s job to get rid of her as soon as possible. For her own sake.
And all the while, he just stood there, his hand beginning to burn from the heat of the mug.
Take it, the bear urged.
Run, the man screamed. While you still can.
But no words formed on his mouth. And after a long, slow moment, she reached out and lifted the mug from his fingers.
Her touch was light, the brush against his skin sending bolts of desire into his hard dick.
It jerked toward her, but he didn’t move beyond that.
And then she smiled, her expression clear enough for even the bear to understand.
A wary greeting. Her face said, Hello. And maybe added a “thank-you” as she pulled the drink to her mouth.
He watched, mesmerized, as her lips pursed against the white cream. Her eyes drifted closed, and her throat shifted as she swallowed. Then he heard it. A soft release of sound, too quick to be a purr and yet was undeniably delight.
Oh, hell. She was appreciating his gift.
His cock stood up ramrod straight, and if his muscles hadn’t been locked tight, he would have reached for her.
She’d accepted his gift of food, even murmured her appreciation of it.
She was his now, according to the grizzly.
The man wondered if she’d just signed her death warrant.
She lowered the mug and licked the cream from her lips.
His breath caught, and he had to tighten his hands into fists so that he wouldn’t reach for her.
He had to leave before the grizzly caught him unaware.
Willing or not, the bear would impregnate her because that was its number-one, absolute drive right now. Get her with child.
With a strangled sound, he jerked himself back to the machine. He could make his own drink and pray that the caffeine helped him keep the grizzly caged.
So long as she didn’t speak. And if she touched him, she was doomed.
He began to order himself about, his mind becoming a drill sergeant to the body.
Put in the coffee, slam on the machine, watch the dark liquid of sanity pour from the spout.
He focused on those simple details while beside him he heard her breath catch.
There’d been fear in her scent from the beginning.
An acrid tang that helped keep him away from her.
The man detested that scent and would do nothing to make it continue.
But now he wished it would overwhelm him.
Now he wanted her to be bathed in the scent because while he tried to focus on making coffee, he scented her arousal.
The musk deepened, the scent akin to roasted nuts.
He knew that scent. It was imprinted on his brain as clearly as a brand.
Who is she? He wanted to remember.
He finished making his latte, sweetening it only with honey before gulping it down.
It seared his tongue and burned his throat, but it was better to feel pain than smell her.
It was a skill he’d perfected in these last years while slowly going feral.
He focused on one sensation and blocked out the rest. His throat burned, therefore he couldn’t know that she was attracted to him.
He couldn’t be drawn in by her body’s interest because all he felt was his own scorched tongue. Or so he told himself.
And then—thank God—she did something smart enough to preserve her virtue. She began to speak, her words high with nervousness and too rushed for him to process without recruiting his higher cortex.
Yes. Yes. Make me think. Make me hear. But for God’s sake, don’t touch me.
More words. What did they mean?
“…my father…computer…notes…have them?”
It took three tries before he could form a word. Even so it came out more like a grunt. “No,” he said. Then the most important thing for her own safety. “Leave.”
“…can’t.”
Hell.