Untamed Fate (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 2)

Savannah

Jaxson’s words hit my chest like a sledgehammer, driving the breath from my lungs. His hands dug into my forearms, but it was his voice that locked me in place. It had been feral—a primal growl just at the edge of being human.

I am never going to hand you over to him. Ever.

No one had ever spoken like that to me. Not with that kind of conviction. Or possessiveness.

It’s the truth. I could smell it, clear as day.

He stared down at me with a golden fire burning in his eyes, flames of certainty and desire. His muscles rippled with a tension that vibrated down through my arms. I wanted to melt, to dissolve into him.

“Do you understand? I won’t trade you. Won’t hand you over,” Jaxson growled in that unearthly voice.

I bit my lip and nodded. The fear and despair burned away inside me, leaving only embers of determination in their wake.

Emotions shuddered through my body as Jaxson’s power pressed in around me like waters of the deep. His signature was out of control, wave after wave of forest scent rolling over me. It shook the air like an earthquake, and the sounds of icy streams cascading down a mountain slope filled my ears. I could taste the new snow on the air. It was so real, my tongue turned cold.

How I longed to warm it in his mouth.

My mind drained of its senses, and I pushed toward him, trying to reach his lips. But his hands, still clutching my raised arms, locked me rigidly in place.

I struggled and pulled back but couldn’t move. A faint part of me screamed in rebellion against his control. But the rest of me reveled in his power, his mastery of the moment. So I let him hold me there, in silence and stillness.

My world was crumbling around me. A sorcerer was trying to cut out my soul. Dozens of werewolves couldn’t wake because of me. And I didn’t even have control over my own body or magic.

And amid the storm, for one moment, I’d found something steady. Immovable. A rock that I could hold on to. A promise that wouldn’t be broken.

Our eyes didn’t part as we stood in stillness. Finally, I let my arms relax—submitting, no longer pushing back or pulling, but content to just be in his steady grip.

The tension left his body, but he didn’t let go. And then, slowly, his head began to drift downward toward mine.

I beckoned him with my lips, letting them part as I breathed him in. Did I really want this? The kiss of a man who hated my family and despised what I was? A man who had more control over my body than I did?

Yes.

Jaxson’s hands released me, and he gently traced his fingertips down my forearms, around the bend of my arm, and softly up to my shoulders. My skin was flushed and sensitive, and almost burned at his light touch. He pulled me closer as he brought his mouth to mine. Our lips brushed across each other, quietly searching.

My own were soft and dry and desperate for his kiss. We’d done it before in the Michigan woods, in the heat of despair and chaos and barely surviving death. This was everything that hadn’t been, yet the overwhelming sense of rightness was the same. My mouth didn’t just want him—it needed him.

I pressed my lips against his.

He parted them, drawing in everything I had to give. My pulse raced as I kissed him back and let my tongue search for his, wanting nothing more than to taste him, to drink him in.

Heat rose within me as the waters of my body met, and my legs trembled. I needed more. His kiss was too hesitant. Too soft. I bit his lip and pulled him to me. He gave a low, possessive growl that sent shivers along my spine and raised the hair on my skin.

He dug his fingers into my shoulders, and I moaned with delight. He bit my lip in turn, but still, it wasn’t enough. My flesh needed his. We were too far apart.

I shifted my arms and let the towel slip away, though the little dress of shadows I’d woven around myself stayed in place.

As the towel landed at our feet, Jaxson broke off our kiss and met my eyes. His pupils dilated, devouring me.

My arms were pinned between us. I pressed my palms to his chest. His steady heartbeat pounded against my fingertips as his hands began to drift slowly down my shoulders to my back and then down along my sides.

A shiver ran through me, and my skin prickled beneath his gentle touch.

At last, after an agonizingly slow descent, his fingers came to rest on my waist. I licked my lip, and he gently pulled my hips forward. He was hard and unyielding against me, and I wanted everything he could give.

I undid his shirt one button at a time, moving my hands deliberately beneath his steady gaze. Each button was a choice that I couldn’t walk away from. It didn’t matter.

After the last button, I slipped my hands beneath the cotton cloth, parting it so I could drag my fingers over the strong contours of his chest and around to his back. I pressed forward with my whole body, feeling his skin at last against my own in the space where his shirt was opened.

Warmth flowed between us like rays of the sun emerging from the clouds. My breath turned shallow, and I lifted my mouth to his.

A knock sounded from the door. My heart stopped, and suddenly, Jaxson and I were standing five feet apart. Had he pushed back from me, or had I pushed away from him?

It had better not have been him. Not again. Not like the last time. The shame. The embarrassment. The regret.

But this time, the only thing in his eyes was shock. Perhaps frustration. He glanced up and down at me and almost smiled.

The knock came again. “Jax?”

It was Sam.

My brain started working again, and I snatched my towel off the ground. The only thing I had under my makeshift robe of shadows was flesh, and it was suddenly very drafty in the penthouse.

There was no way around it. Sam was going to give us hell.

I pulled the towel tightly around me like a suit of armor. Jaxson paused at the door while he buttoned his shirt. He didn’t meet my eyes.

What had I been thinking? Jaxson fucking Laurent? Attracted to a werewolf? It was madness.

This is your doing, you hussy, I thought furiously at my wolf.

Nope. That was all you, you horny harlot.

I gasped at the foul-mouthed and foul-minded wolf.

Jaxson raised an eyebrow at my outburst, and I shook my head.

Swallowing hard, I let a long litany of denials flood into my mind. I was not a werewolf. I didn’t have to listen to the savage beast inside me. And I was not getting wrapped up with Jaxson Laurent. I plopped down on the couch, tightly crossed my legs, and let the towel and shadows settle around me.

With a click, Jaxson unlocked the door and swung it open.

Sam stepped in and cupped her hand to her mouth, covering a wide grin. “What did I interrupt? It smells like a Brazilian steakhouse in here, and you are a very rare steak, Savy!”

The scarlet drained from my hair and flooded across my face as my very soul withered.

Oh. God.

I should have let the sorcerer kill me.

Sam clapped her hands, laughing. “Oh, shit, I am so, so sorry, you two.”

Jaxson closed the door behind her with a wry smile.

My neck burned with embarrassment and rage. Where had her enthusiasm been when we’d kissed the last time? She’d ripped me a new one.

But I hadn’t been a werewolf then. Just a dirty, expendable LaSalle. Now I was some sort of half-breed. Did that really make things better?

Sam gave me a wicked grin and waved the spare clothes at me. “Are you sure you still need these? Should I come back later?”

“Cool it, Sam,” Jaxson growled. “We’re in fucking trouble, and we need a plan.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I was just excited because you seem to be embracing the m—”

Jaxson gave Sam a look that practically made the walls of the penthouse shake. My skin chilled as his power washed over us both, and I was certain the temperature had dropped twenty degrees.

She shrank back. “Right. Sorry.”

What the hell had that been about?

Clearly, I didn’t understand a fucking thing about these wolves.