Page 167 of Primal Bonds

She couldn’t do anything about her size—she had her mom’s slim build. But both her parents had been clan soldiers, and they’d trained her and Adric in fighting techniques from the time they were toddlers. But her parents were dead, and Leron’s mate was even more afraid of him than Marjani was.

So Marjani had trained even harder until her body was a finely honed machine, and she was a wizard with knives. She knew the best way to cut a man so that he’d bleed out in less than a minute, and she was never without two or three blades concealed around her body.

And none of that had helped that night in Baltimore when Shania had slipped the aphrodisiac into her drink. A woman she’d thought was a friend—a den mate.

You survived.

She had to focus on that or go insane.

But is it survival when your nightmares make you mewl like a cub?

Her hand flexed on Fane’s chest. Gods, she was pathetic, snuggled up to a man she barely knew—and a part-fae at that. But she liked that wild meadow scent of his. Her cat wanted to roll around in it, take the scent on its fur.

Even the thump of his heart beneath her hand was comforting.

You’re weak. A female, and a scrawny one at that. You should’ve been drowned at birth.

She ground her teeth.

Maybe Adric was right—she was too broken to be out in the world. But she’d spent the past year hiding in their den. Sinking deeper and deeper into her animal.

Fada healed more quickly as their animals, so no one had questioned it. In fact, Adric had encouraged her to remain as her cougar.

By the time she was stronger, it was too late. The cat often overrode the human part of her. Not even Adric knew how much. She’d let the cougar remain in control for long days as she’d healed.

Because she felt afraid as a woman. The woman was weak, vulnerable—but not the cougar. If those men had attacked her cat, it would’ve ripped out their fucking throats.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Fane murmured. “Go to sleep.”

She grimaced. “Sorry.”

He sighed. “You can’t, can you?”

Her cheeks heated. She mutely shook her head.

He set his other arm around her waist, and she stiffened, but he kept the touch nonsexual. His long fingers spread over her stomach, warm and comforting. He hummed, low and hoarse, a rough purr like something out of a ratty old tomcat.

She bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh.

He began to sing, and her jaw slackened. He was good, his rough voice perfectly on pitch, but with an edge that made it intriguing…and fucking sexy.

Deep inside, parts of her stirred to life. Parts that hadn’t shown any interest in more than a year.

The man could bottle that voice and sell it as a love potion.

She didn’t recognize the song, but she guessed it was an old folk song. Dark and mournful, about a woman and her dead lover.

Her breath released. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Sleep.” He switched to another sad song.

I can’t.

She was out before the end of the second verse.

Fane woke before her. In the night, they had turned so that his back was to her and she was curled up against his side. Marjani came awake as he slid out of bed. She turned over and watched, slit-eyed, as he moved around the room. Not embarrassed, exactly, but not wanting to talk with him either.

He disappeared into the bathroom and the shower came on.

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