Page 11 of My Shifty Bodyguard

And that is when Dax appears.

He bursts out of the hallway in nothing but boxer briefs, hair rumpled, eyes wild and predatory. He finds me elbow-deep in pancake carnage.

“Violet?” he demands, his tone thick with urgency. “Are you hurt?”

My emotions, which have been simmering at a low boil for hours, suddenly erupt.

“I—I was trying to make you breakfast!” I shout over the alarm.

He snatches the pan off the stove, hurries to the front door, and tosses it outside. He leaves the door open, then hurries back inside and opens kitchen windows. The smoke alarm finally shuts off.

The moment the alarm dies, the silence is somehow worse.

Dax turns back to me, chest rising and falling, pupils blown wide. Then he crosses the space between us in two long strides and grabs my shoulders—not hard, but tight enough that I can feel his hands shaking.

“How could you do this?” His voice is a low, raw growl. “If anything happened to you—”

“I know, I know,” I blurt miserably, blinking fast. “My father would be furious at your pack and it would be a diplomatic disaster—”

“The hell with your father.”

His voice cracks. Actually cracks.

“It would destroy me.”

My breath catches…and then his mouth is on mine.

It isn’t a kiss so much as a claiming, all heat and urgency. His lips crush against mine and I melt into him, hands grabbing his bare shoulders because if I don’t hold on I will fall.

I’ve kissed men before. A couple. Nice boys. Gentle boys. But this—this is what a kiss is meant to be. This is delicious heat, a devouring. My entire body lights up, my nerves singing with arousal.

And then, he jerks back like he’s been burned.

His breathing is ragged. His eyes look wrecked.

“Forget I did that,” he rasps. “Forget everything I just said.”

Forget it? How can I forget it the moment that will be tattooed on my soul forever?

My heart lurches, splintering.

And then the worst thing happens. My vision blurs, my throat tightens, and I know I’m going to cry.

Absolutely not. I will not embarrass myself even further.

So I do the only thing my panicking, humiliated brain can think of.

I shift.

It rips through me, my bones stretching, my skin shimmering, heat rolling over my body. My wolf explodes outward, all white fur and instinct and instinctive flight.

Before he can say a word, I bolt.

I launch out the front door, paws hitting the soft earth, tail streaming behind me. The world blurs into trees and sunlight and humiliation. I run like the forest is on fire, like I can outrun the memory of his mouth on mine, the sound of him telling me to forget it.

I run because if I don’t, the ache in my chest might actually kill me.

And somewhere behind me, Dax roars my name.