CIARA
"Let go of my hands, Hayes," I snapped, my voice shaking from the heat but my spine staying solid.
"Why?" Hayes growled, his black eyes staring straight into mine, his grip on my wrists tightening against the dark wood of the table. "So you can grab that silver dagger in your waistband? Or so you can pull me closer?"
"Try me and find out," I hissed, shoving my hips upward against his heavy frame.
The movement sent a violent wave of vanilla scent straight into his face. Hayes’s nostrils flared, a low, animalistic rumble vibrating deep in his chest. He didn't drop my hands, but his face dipped down, his mouth brushing right against the hollow of my throat.
"Your wolf is begging for the mark, Ciara," he whispered, his fangs scraping the skin over my pulse point. "She’s been begging
