Page 133 of Revealing Fate

She swallowed, settling her cheek back against his chest. “So your second form allows you to process poison?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said, shifting his weight to accommodate her position. “It strengthens every physiological system. For my second form to suffer the same effects of whatever sedative he used on my first form, he would have needed roughly five times the dose he had.”

“And you’re not…out of control?” Felíne remembered what Kal told her on their way to Stillwater Wood: that shurii who were allowed to utilize their second forms growing up were capable of controlling their heightened instincts. But she also remembered Kal brutalizing the grimalkin in the arena, racing back to his cabin in the woods, and narrowly restraining himself from wringing her neck.

Kal tilted his head as he assessed her, furry ears twitching. “No, Kitty,” he assured, seeming to sense the direction of her thoughts. “If you’re referencing the time after the arena, I was…angry. More than angry.”

Felíne swallowed.

“But I would never hurt you,” he said, his deep voice soft. “For all the power in this form, all the strength in my body, you have nothing to fear from me.”

She believed him.

Another thought popped into her head, and she peeked over the edge of her blanket. “You’re not wearing pants.” Skott had been clothed from the waist down after shifting. But Kal had come out of the darkness like some hellish spawn composed of smoke and shadows.

Kal’s golden eyes glittered with what could only be amusement. “Should I be worried?”

“For what?”

“My virtue?”

Felíne opened her mouth to reply. Closed it. Tugged her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Kal’s whole body reverberated with a deep rolling laugh. He uncoiled himself from around her, and Felíne immediately missed his velvety warmth. “I hadn’t expected to shift,” he explained. “Those clothes weren’t made to accommodate the transformation. When we got home?” He shrugged. “Other things seemed more important at the time.” Without waiting for a reply, Kal turned and padded toward his bedroom door, tail swishing along the floorboards.

Felíne pushed to her feet, stretching stiff muscles. She watched him disappear down the hall and, without giving herself a chance to reconsider, followed quietly after him.

Chapter 47

HOT OR COLD

FELÍNE PAUSED WITH HER TOE at the threshold of Kal’s bedroom door. She dragged it along the ridge of wood that separated the hallway where she stood from this forbidden space.

Kal’s back was to her. His second form’s broad shoulders curled forward, and Felíne traced the thick line of hackles that followed the curve of his spine. His tail twitched as though feeling her gaze.

She watched, fascinated, as silken midnight fur turned to flesh. That hackled ridge became a strong line of vertebrae beneath caramel skin. The tail retreated, leaving behind the most glorious set of glutes Felíne had ever beheld. She wasn’t even aware glutes could be glorious. Kal turned his head, gifting her a heart-stuttering profile. She could have sketched the heavy line of his brow, slightly ridged nose, perfect lips tipped in the ghost of a smile, and stubbled chin from memory. But what she wanted was to trail her finger along their contours.

My, how deep she floundered in the ocean of this man.

“Kitty,” Kal said, voice low. “What are you doing?”

“I…” What was she doing? Did he find her spying lecherous? Would she have, were their roles reversed? Perhaps it was best not to consider that answer too closely just yet. “I wanted to watch you change.”

A dimple appeared in Kal’s half-turned cheek. Heat flamed her face.

“I mean, not your clothes,” Felíne stammered. “Your form. I just…I wanted to watch you shift.”

Kal stepped into a pair of linen pants, covering that tantalizing backside. He turned to her fully, gold-flecked gaze lingering where she leaned against the door frame, still wrapped in his blanket. “And? Did you find it enlightening?”

She could barely follow a complete trail of thought with him standing there, looking like a mortalized god plucked from the heavens. His dark hair was rakish, the soft curls unruly. His gaze heated. The lines of his body were masterfully drawn. She traced an imaginary finger down the center of his chest, dividing his pectorals. Slid a phantom touch over the ridges of his intercostals, dipping between each rib before reaching his defined abdomen. The hip flexors and the valley they created at his tapered waist she’d save for last, just before…

Felíne froze, realizing her attention was fixed on the linen tie that Kal held—the one threaded through the waistband of his pants. Short black hair curled, a light dusting down the center of all that glorious skin.

He was made like a god.

Why couldn’t it have been Kal?

The thought came unbidden. Why couldn’t Kal have been the Primordial Male? Her godchosen mate. Why couldn’t it have been him? She should have been ashamed of the blasphemous contemplation. But just then, with Kal so beautiful before her, his attention so intimately fixed, Felíne couldn’t find the obligation beneath all her longing.