Verret’s Pov
“What do you mean, me?”
Her words still echo in my head, light, trembling, daring me to repeat what I’d said. I don’t even think before I move. My breath fans against her ear as I whisper, low enough for only her to hear.
“You know what I mean, Delilah.”
She freezes. Her pulse flutters against her neck, and it’s the sound that undoes me — that fragile reminder that she’s real, that she’s right here, and yet somehow still not mine. My lips find the skin just beneath her ear, a dangerous place where restraint dies easily.
“Don’t ask me what I'm doing, or tell me about your mate” I said to her.
Her scent is maddening, something like crushed roses and iron, warm and alive. I don’t even remember deciding to touch her. One second I’m breathing her name, the next my mouth is a
