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“What if I never want it?” she asked, lifting her chin defiantly.
“You will.” I crossed the distance between us in three long strides. “It’s chemical. Undeniable. Your body will crave the feeling of being stretched,” I stared into her eyes as a gasp fell from her lips, “filled and used. Ravaged from the inside out until you’re writhing in pleasure.”
I brushed her plump bottom lip with my thumb, and my wolf hummed.
Her eyes dilated, but she didn’t shy away from my touch. The perfume of her heat filled the kitchen with its sweet, spicy scent.
Blood rushed to my cock.
I leaned in. It would be easy to take her mouth—to feel her go pliant in my arms.
Her warm breath ghosted over my lips, and I bit back a groan.
“Take your pills,” I said thickly, grabbing her wrist and shoving the bottle into her hand.
I took several steps back, ignoring the look of surprise on her face. It dimmed the spark of lust between us.
Fuck, I shouldn’t be alone with her.
Using the kitchen island as a barrier, I removed bowls and a cutting board from the cabinets and vegetables from the fridge.
I should’ve spent some time showing Myla around the den. We had arrived late last night, and all she saw was our room—which we left her alone in to make her feel safe—and the sitting room. She hadn’t even set foot in the kitchen until this morning.
I couldn’t give her a tour, though. Not right now.
Being alone with her messed with my head, and I needed a clear mind so I could form a hormone-free opinion of our mate.
After taking the heat suppressants, she timidly walked to my side of the island. “I can help with that.”
“It’s all right. I’ve got it,” I said, my voice harsher than intended.
I risked a glance at Myla. Her eyes flashed with dejection before a look of pure rage twisted her features.
I slapped some carrots on the cutting board and started chopping.
“You’re ridiculous,” she snapped. “One minute, you’re hot, then you’re cold. You want me, then you can’t stand to be near me. Why am I even here if you’ve already made up your mind about me?”
She has a point, my wolf huffed.
Shut up.
“You’re our mate,” I stated, refusing to give her an explanation.
I moved on to the onions and peppers, more thankful than ever to have something to do with my hands.
“If you don’t want me here, take me back to the medical building,” Myla said. “I’m sure I’ll find so—”
My wolf growled at the suggestion.
“No,” I interrupted.
She took a step back, shocked by my abrupt response. “No? What do you mean no?”
“You heard me.” I placed pots and pans on the burners. “You will stay in our den with us. As it should be.”
“So you’re going to lock me up.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Myla made a good show of appearing calm, but I saw it for what it was: a show.
