Hand to the goddess on high, Kane growls. It’s so low, I’m not entirely sure I heard correctly, but then Kane’s friends back off.
“Easy, boy,” the man with dark hair says, even as he backs away. “I meant no harm. Just wanted to tell the witch she has nice eyes.” He winks at me, even as Kane growls again.
I guess that’s how you fuck with your friend if you’re a shifter—you make him seem weirdly possessive of a girl he just started chatting with.
And maybe if I hadn’t been pining for Kane for years, I would’ve let those growls scare me off. But my happy little heart finds the whole thing thrilling, self-respect be damned.
It helps that Kane is grimacing, as though frustrated with his own reaction. He glares after his friends as they walk away.
“I’m sorry,” he says, turning to me. “There are things about being a lycan…” His jaw works a little as he tries to find the words.
Kane struggles with people accepting parts of his identity? I didn’t expect that.
I wave it off. “Believe me when I tell you, I understand.”
CHAPTER 23
The next several hours blur by as I chat and drink with Kane. By the time the two of us move to the dance floor, magic has thickened the air, the various colors of it swirling and blending. I breathe it in, the power calling to my own magic, demanding I let go of my inhibitions.
This is one of the aspects of witchery they don’t talk about that often. The wild, nearly frenzied nature of our magic that exposes itself when we gather under a night sky.
I can feel that primordial need for release as I dance with Kane. My clothes feel too heavy and constricting, and I have the urge to strip myself of them. I need…more.
Empress…I hear your call…
My blood heats at the sound of Memnon’s voice in my head, and my need rises. I don’t know when I went from dreading the sorcerer to having this reaction.
I mean to look for Memnon, but my eyes catch on Kane as his nostrils flare, like he scents something. A moment later he cups my cheek on the dance floor, our sweaty bodies sliding against each other.
He stares down at me, and again, I see the lupine glint of his eyes. He leans into my neck, running his lips and nose along the skin there. Whatever he’s doing, it feels…animalistic—like perhaps he’s smelling me or marking me.
His mouth skims along my jaw before he pulls away. He looks into my eyes for a long second, and then slowly, he leans in once more, his eyes dipping to my lips, giving me plenty of time to back out.
I don’t.
His lips brush against mine, and then dancing turns into kissing. I’m unable to stop—my mouth likes the taste of his far too much to stop. Something about it tugs at me, like an itch I can’t quite scratch, and that only makes me fall deeper into the kiss, chasing that elusive sensation.
I don’t know how long we stand there, making out instead of dancing, before Kane lifts me to carry me off the dance floor and then out of the cabin altogether.
Without really looking, I sense that most of the party has already moved out here. Lycans have paired up with witches and one another; somewhere between alcohol, magic, and instinct, the evening turned carnal.
Kane only puts me down so he can press me against a tree, his hands coming back up to cup my face. I close my eyes as he kisses me roughly, and the dominance, the power, it’s stoking a memory…
I open my eyes and frown when Kane’s features don’t align with what I expected.
A love like ours defies everything… I am yours forever…
The phantom words tease out a shiver before I force them away, falling back into the kiss.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
My hands are moving all over him, and I take a moment to appreciate his muscles through the fabric of his shirt before my fingers dip beneath its hem and run over the rigid planes of his chest.
Kane groans into my mouth, pressing himself deeper into me, and there’s no missing the rigid length of his shaft. Now it’s his turn to touch, his hands moving up my sides, his thumb skimming my breasts.
I moan. An ache grows between my thighs, one I don’t want to resist.
I need…I need…
Little witch, your voice is so pretty when it makes its demands…
I gasp at Memnon’s voice in my head, my core clenching for some perverse reason.
Kane grinds against me, and my mind is a mess—is it the shifter or the sorcerer working me to a fever pitch?
I peer over Kane’s shoulder, looking for…I’m not sure exactly what. My eyes sweep over our surroundings, and I notice just how many other revelers have paired up with each other. I hear heavy breathing and sounds that would make me blush if I were sober. Even now, I see couples and small groups disappearing into the deep night.
Maybe it’s not the men at all—maybe it’s simply the intoxicating combo of booze and magic.
Whatever the cause, I’m flush with desire. But our surroundings…
My grip tightens on Kane, and he pauses to see what has me tensing.
“What’s wrong?” he says, his voice husky.
I swallow. “Witches have been killed in these woods…” Slipping off into the forest right now is a supremely bad idea.
“None of my pack will let any harm come to your coven sisters.”
Unless, of course, a lycanthrope is the one killing them off. The body I saw was brutally torn open.
I squeeze my eyes shut against that thought.
“Hey, you okay?” Kane asks, tipping my chin up with his hand.
I nod, maybe a little too fast, before I open my eyes. “Do you want to get out of here?” I ask.
I’m not above shooting my shot with Kane, even when I’m hearing Memnon in my head and panicking about these woods.
Kane’s wolf peers out from the back of his eyes. “Yeah, I do.”
My heart pounds hard in my chest. Goddess, this is really happening. I’m taking my high school crush home with me.
I take his hand and start leading him away from the party. Then I hesitate. “I came here with a friend, and I was planning on taking her home.”
“Then let’s grab her,” Kane says.
I don’t actually know if Sybil wants to go with me at all, but luckily, I spot her across the clearing, making out with a shifter.
“Just a sec,” I say to Kane. “I’ll be right back.”
I head over to Sybil, a little hesitant to interrupt what looks to be a very heavy make-out session.
“Sybil,” I whisper.
No reaction.
“Sybil,” I whisper louder.
Still nothing.
“Sybil!” I finally shout.
My friend pauses, dragging her face away from the lycan’s. “Hey, Selene,” she says, trying to pull herself together.
“I was going to take Kane back to the house, but I didn’t want to leave you,” I say.
“Leave me,” she insists, her eyes hazy with booze and desire. “I’ll be fine. Sawyer here has promised to walk me home.” She smiles and winks at him. Sawyer looks surprised but thrilled at the prospect.
I hesitate. I don’t want to be awkward here, but—
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“Forget the plan.”
Still, I’m unsure.