Page 39 of Lycans & Lattes

I cupped his cheeks. “Look at me.” I forced him to meet my eyes. “I’m okay. We can handle this.”

“You should’ve told me,” he growled, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me flush against him.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re my mate, Willow,” he said. “I want to protect you. I need to.”

“I need to protect you too,” I countered, touching a finger to his lip. “Tell me what happened to you.”

Instead, his eyes filled with heat at our closeness, and he kissed me fiercely.

“Your lip,” I protested against his mouth.

“It’s fine,” he dismissed. “I need you.”

He shoved me back against the countertop, hand fisting in my hair and yanking until my scalp bit with pain. Heat flooded me at his possessive touch, and I moaned as he grabbed my shirt and shredded it open as if it were crepe paper.

His teeth tested my neck, biting until I cried out.

“Wyatt,” I warned. “Slow down.”

His frenzied hands didn’t slow. It was as if he couldn’t hear me as he tore away my clothes and raked his nails down my bare back. He collided into me, his fist going through the cabinet beside my head, and I screamed as wood splintered across the kitchen.

At the sound of my scream, he pulled away, eyes wide. “No,” he whispered, horrified. “No, no, no.”

His hair had grown long, his canines elongated into sharp points, and his eyes were flickering gold. He yanked on the collar of his shirt, revealing his collarbone, smooth and unmarked by Ramona’s sigil.

“Wyatt—”

“Stay away from me!” he snarled, taking another step back.

I jolted toward the door.

“No! Don’t run.” He groaned as I heard bones snapping, his body contorting as he fought off the shift.

I could only watch in frozen horror.

“If you run . . . I will chase you. Willow—when I leave, get the witches to ward against me. I . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”

And then Wyatt roared.

He launched himself at the front door and broke it under his weight before he ran into the night. Half man . . . half wolf.

18

Wyatt

Iwas feral with rage, storming through the mist-dampened night to Ramona’s house. The demon who’d made this deal with me needed to pay.

My fist slammed against the hardwood of her door, the edges of my vision fading in and out with the pounding of my heart.

Ramon’s eyes bulged for a split second before she schooled her expression back into a steely neutral.

“What did you do?” I growled, pushing past her and stumbling into her house.

“What the hell happened to you?” she asked, her nose scrunching. “You look like you fell face-first into a dozen witches’ brooms.”

I couldn’t answer.