Lowrane grabbed Darius’s center from behind.
Darius’ head snapped back as his breath caught, the back of his head striking the large shifter’s broad chest, his eyes strained upwards, trying to see his face. His injured hand held the bottle up as the other lay heavy on his side.
Pheromones had filled the room, and they were not from him.
“What?” he rasped, his vision blurring from the strength of the musk, salt, and fierce heat in the air. Within it was unmistakable spice laced with something fresh, something that reminded one of summer rain.
“No, please…”
“What’s wrong, Noble Alpha?” Handel continued casually.
“Don’t, please…”
“Why not? You’ve been thinking of us since we met.”
“I… No…”
“And you did this very same thing to our Luna, no?”
Darius froze. “I… I’m sorry,” he rasped.
