Bastien’s nostrils flared. “No.”
“No?” Muscles clenching around an emptiness she knew only he could fill, Kirby poked him in the chest. “Don’t you try to tell me you know best.”
He leaned in with his hands braced on the trunk on either side of her head, stubborn male will and feline temper. “When you’re bruised and hurt inside, I damn well will.”
She bared her own teeth at him. “Who made that rule?”
“I did.” A nip of her kiss-swollen lower lip.
She growled low in her throat, wanting to claw him. Not to hurt. Never to hurt. Just so he’d know she wasn’t helpless, was a worthy playmate.
Bastien hissed out a breath, his lips curving. “Hello, little cat.”
In front of him, Kirby snatched back the hands she’d had on his chest, staring once more at the curved tips of her claws. The most stunning change though, was one she couldn’t see; her eyes had turned a pale, pale gold with a vivid black pupil.
Tapping a claw, Bastien grinned. “Cute.”
A dangerous pause. “Cute?” Placing one hand back on his chest, she dug those pretty claws in enough that he felt it. “Want to take that back?”
“Hell, no.” Not when it got her claws on him. Not able to resist in spite of his attempt at good behavior, he kissed her again, rocking his painfully aroused body into the inviting softness of hers.
Melting, she rubbed up against him, her claws going up to prick at his shoulders as she kneaded. His cock threatened to explode and embarrass him at that unambiguous sign of welcome. Cupping her jaw, he indulged himself in another deep, raw kiss before putting at least a meter between him and his mate—who’d drawn his blood just enough for it to be foreplay.
Face flushing, she reached down to undo her coat and throw it aside. “I’m all hot,” she said, her breasts pushing against the shirt she had on underneath.
Bastien thought for a second that she intended to win their sensual battle by baring herself to the skin—and yeah, who was he kidding, he’d never last if Kirby pressed her naked curves against him—but then she tugged at her collar, said, “I’m really hot.” Kicking off her shoes, she tore off her socks. “Bastien, why is it so hot?” It was a plea, her eyes flicking from gold to hazel and back again. “I can’t breathe.”
And he realized they’d run out of time.
CHAPTER 8
Thinking back rapidly to what Dorian had told him, he said, “Kirby, look at me,” putting every ounce of his dominance in his voice. No matter the nature of the creature that lived within Kirby, it wasn’t as dominant as Bastien’s leopard. That knowledge was instinctive, a survival mechanism built into every changeling, predatory or not.
Whimpering, Kirby met his gaze, unable to refuse the order. It was why he’d never given her any such order in their time together thus far, and never would in their ordinary life. He didn’t ever want his mate to obey him simply because her animal saw him as the more dominant, would tear himself to shreds before he stole her free will.
Today, however, she was frightened, panicking, the fear a shivering darkness in her eyes; both parts of her nature needed him to take charge. And though he was unprepared for such a violent and sudden shift, having expected to have time to ease her into it with the pack healer’s help, no way in hell was he going to allow anything to go wrong.
“Give in,” he ordered, Dorian’s advice about the need for Kirby to trust the trapped creature within resonating in his mind. “Give in? Kirby.”
Crying out, Kirby went to her knees, pressing a fisted hand to her abdomen. Her eyes were huge and wet when she looked up. “Bastien, it’s clawing at me!”
She was, he realized, too confused to understand him, her focus shot. Going down in front of her, he put his hands on either side of her head, anchoring her in the instant. “No, it just wants out.” He kept his tone firm, steady. “It isn’t trying to hurt you.”
When her breathing went shallow, perspiration breaking out over her skin in a fine shimmer, he locked his eyes with hers. “Stop fighting, Kirby,” he said, once more using his dominance to force her to concentrate. “Accept your animal. That’s all it wants.”
Her face disappeared under his touch and he felt the plush kiss of fur before she was back, terror in every jagged breath, her eyes cycling between human and cat too hard, too fast. “No, no, something bad . . . something bad is happening!”
Partial shifts could be held on purpose, but it took considerable skill. This was dangerous, parts of her going in and out—because her arm had just done the same thing. “Kirby,” he growled, too afraid for her to temper his voice. “Listen to me. Nothing bad is happening.” It had been a child’s cry that had come out of her mouth, of the cub she’d been when her world went up in flames. “This is a good thing, a beautiful thing.”