Draven was in a rut, and every touch to his skin felt like a danger zone warning from Myra. His muscles flexed as if he was trying to fight back his primal consciousness, and Myra was in deeper crisis, clueless about what to do.
She reached for the alpha, who snarled back, “No! Stay away, Myra. This is a dangerous time right now,” he called. “Go to the exit and wait for me. I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“Is that what you think you did last night? You hurt me? Lest you forget, I asked for it.”
“But not like that. I wanted to punish you, make you hate me, and f**k—agh,” he groaned once more as his once icy sea-green eyes flickered to fiery red.
Myra's eyes were fixed on his hands, watching the claws spear out as if he was fighting for control.
Myra peered down at his pants; his membe
