She cups my face with both hands, forcing my head toward her. Her palms are warm, grounding, but it’s her scent—home and fire and everything I can’t live without—that pushes through the haze. “Keith. Look at me.”
It’s a fight. A real fight. My beast wants him. My mate wants me.
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “Don’t let your anger overtake you. This isn’t real. The Queen… she laced you with an aphrodisiac.”
The words hit like a bucket of ice. I blink, dragging in a breath that doesn’t burn quite as much.
“He wants you,” I tell her, voice low, a growl under the words. “I saw it in his eyes before this.”
Camille lifts his hands slowly, like I’m a wild animal he’s trying not to spook. “I didn’t come here of my free will.”
That’s not the same as saying he doesn’t want her. I file that away.
“So
