Page 76 of Wrongfully Magicked
I wait for them to agree, but they remain silent.
“Right?” I ask, unable to smother a spark of excitement at the thought of having not only one mate but two, and flames dance under my skin at the idea of claiming them both.
Only then do I realize how much I want that.
Want them.
If Soren is right, then I’m willing to do anything for the chance to claim them. I won’t let my family take that from me too. Inhaling deeply, I glance at Soren, slightly suspicious of his easy capitulation. I cross my arms protectively in front of me, then lick my dry lips. “What kind of test?”
“Kiss him,” he says simply.
“W-What?” I sputter, my face burning at his order.
He lifts a challenging brow, a silent dare, then he speaks slower, as if I had trouble understanding him the first time. “Kiss. Him.”
I swallow hard, more heat filling my cheeks, and I wish I could say it’s in embarrassment, but I’m surprised by how much I want that kiss. Wiping my sweaty palms against my pants, I turn to glance up at Stryker with more than a little trepidation, almost afraid to look at him, and it takes all my courage to meet his bright blue eyes.
STRYKER
Idon’t move, afraid to even breathe and scare her off. She looks so terrified that I want to strangle Soren. I wanted to go slow and work my way into her heart, not giving her a choice to love me until it was too late.
Now I might never get the chance.
Maybe I should be jealous she already has a mate, but I’m not surprised someone like her has already been claimed.
It’s smart.
She needs a strong guard to keep her safe.
One mate is not nearly enough, but joining an existing pack makes everything both easier and harder. Beastlings are overprotective of their mates and very territorial. The fact that he even allowed her in a room alone with me is a small miracle.
While the ultimate choice is up to the woman, not every beastling survives the selection process. Accidents happen to prospective mates who fail to meet the expectations of the rest of the pack. No beastling would take a risk when it comes to their mate’s safety.
A woman like Anita attracts danger as easily as breathing. Though she might smell like sugar and spice and everything nice, the darkness clinging to her says she battled nightmares and came out a warrior.
She doesn’t need a mate to keep her safe, which means she can be super selective. That Soren would push her toward me fills me with hope and trepidation.
This is a test, one that I can’t fail, or I fear I won’t get a second chance.
When Anita shuffles toward me, stopping only inches away, I inhale her delicious scent, and my breath stalls in my lungs, desperate to savor every little bit of her.
I should protest—this is not part of my plan—but I so desperately want her kiss, I can’t find my voice. My beast won’t allow me to pass up this chance, afraid we might not get another one.
As I wait for her to make the first move, I hold myself so rigid that my muscles tremble under the strain. I’ve been imprisoned for so many years that my body doesn’t remember a time when even a simple touch hasn’t brought pain. I’m terrified my control might snap, and I’m not sure if I’ll lash out or take what I want.
Tiny shards of red shimmer in her amber eyes, and my breath catches. Instead of putting me off, my cock strains againstmy pants, desperate for her attention. Never taking her gaze from mine, she rests her hand against my chest as lightly as a butterfly, but it hits with the strength of a sledgehammer.
A purr immediately catches in my chest, and I can’t stop the embarrassment that heats my neck and blooms across my cheeks. My breath leaves me in a shudder, and my cock actually leaks.
From just a touch.
I’m so fucking screwed.
Heat spreads through my chest at the contact, and it feels so good that I reach behind her and latch onto the counter to keep myself from grabbing her like a handsy kraken. The movement brings my face even closer to hers, and my claws sink into the wooden countertops as I struggle to remain sane.
She smells so good that my mouth waters and my fangs ache to mark her with my bite. Logically, my brain knows it’s too soon, but my leopard has been deprived of human contact for so long that he’s nearly feral.
I close my eyes to resist temptation, afraid to meet her gaze. Something inside me would wither and die if she ever looked at me with fear.
