Cain
My body’s trembling—and not from fear, but from her.
From the way her skin brushes mine like silk over fire, from the way her scent, all wildflowers and sin, wraps around me and squeezes the breath from my lungs.
Her gaze meets mine, those damn eyes—stormy, defiant, and stupidly beautiful. They could gut me if they wanted to. And right now, I think they are.
“Look at me, Saoirse,” I growl, voice low, almost desperate. I grip her chin, forcing her to really see me. “Say you don’t want this. Say it—and mean it.”
Her chest rises too fast, like she’s been running for miles. Her lips part, trembling.
But she doesn’t speak.
She can’t.
Because we both know the truth. The tension is choking the air between us, so thick I could taste it on my tongue.
“Damn it, you’re the future Alpha,
