Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)

Like he just threw down an invisible gauntlet, something wild rises in me demanding that I snatch it the fuck back up. “Oh, Ace,” I purr, assigning him my own condescending little nickname. “You don’t have the first clue about what I can handle.”

The black of his pupils almost blots out the light gray of his irises completely. The heat coming off his smooth, sculpted frame laps at me, and a heady scent I can’t identify has me feeling light and untethered. One side of his lush lips tilts in a needling grin as he leans forward, his large arms caging me in against the banister.

“Tell me more about what you can handle then, kitten.”

Mayday. Mayday. The ship is going down. I’ve officially lost control. A crash is imminent.

I try not to go brain-dead, not to gape at his proximity or the suggestion soaking his words and my panties. He’s so damn brazen, so annoyingly insolent. He’s pushy where the others have given me space. He’s assertive when they’ve been understanding. And I hate that I like it.

The wind brushes a few strands of my hair into my face, and I reach up to sweep them back. Gannon’s hand twitches as though he wants to be the one putting the wayward strands in their place.

We stand there, on the precipice of something. Both of us pushing and nipping at one another, neither willing to back off even if it means we go careening off a cliff—at least we’ll take the other one with.

My eyes flit back and forth between his challenging gaze. I could back off. Admit that he might be right, that I’m not ready for where this road most definitely leads. But that’s the thing—I think I am.

Maybe not right this minute, because I could just as easily punch Gannon in the throat as fuck him. But even that’s not the deterrent it was days ago, because this back and forth is doing things for me. No, where this connection with the den is heading, my being here, what it could mean and turn into, it doesn’t freak me out like it did.

It’s gone from what the fucking hell to hmmm…

The smug glint in his eyes and the cocksure way Gannon is leering at me, like he knows he’s backed me into a corner I can’t escape from, make the decision for me.

“Fuck it,” I declare, and then I press up on my tiptoes and kiss him.

He does nothing for a split second when my lips meet his. His mouth is soft and pillowy, and his body is both hard and pliant against mine. And then it’s like a crackle of lightning shoots through him, shocking him from his stunned stupor. He kisses me back.

The hands that were gripped on the railing, boxing me in, lift, and Gannon’s long fingers thread through my hair. He takes control and I gladly hand it over as he angles my mouth and deepens our kiss. His tongue teases mine, dipping in and tangling. Desperate passion floods my senses, as we nip, and suck, and fight to dominate one another.

His thick thigh presses between mine, and tendrils of need skate down my skin, pebbling my nipples and pooling between my thighs. The stubble on his cheeks tickles my palms as I cup his face and take what I want from him.

Gannon groans, and I lap it up, thirsty for more, eager to dine on his desire. He kisses me into a floating, breathless place. He ignites my soul and holds me like my place in this world was always supposed to be in his arms.

Pulling me closer, his hard length presses into my stomach, and my nipples grow peaked and sensitive as they brush deliciously against the fabric of my shirt and his bare chest. I whimper, needing more, and his hands drop to my ass, squeezing once before lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist.

Desire is an inferno burning through me. It consumes every thought other than the driving need to devour and be devoured. I’m vaguely aware of Gannon setting me on the railing of the deck, of his hands skimming up my sides.

I scarcely feel the wind darting through the closing gaps between us. I hardly notice the cold or dark. The scents of pine and mud fade as Gannon’s scent becomes the only one I notice. His lips. His teeth, which are so disappointingly flat and not sharp enough to bite through skin the way I’m suddenly craving.

I jerk back as that thought invades my bliss.

Bite? Why the fuck do I want to bite him?

Gannon gives a disgruntled growl as I pull my mouth from his, but then he moves his lips to the side of my neck and I lose focus. I moan and pant as he drops kisses down my throat, nipping at the juncture of where my shoulder meets my neck. Blistering pleasure that’s so intense it borders on pain engulfs my entire body, and I swear I almost come.

The feel of his scruff against my skin is driving me crazy, and all I want to do right now is rip off my clothes. He’s already naked. I could be ready in under ten seconds, then ride his cock while he marks me.

Seriously, what the hell?

Marks me?

What does that even mean?

“Why do I want to bite you?” I pant, and Gannon laughs as he sucks on that spot just under my ear lobe that I’ve always heard about but no one has ever been able to find. I feel like game show alarms should be ringing, because this contestant deserves a prize. What do we have for our winner, Johnny? Just me—a moaning, wet, writhing mess.

“That’s the mate claim, kitten,” Gannon answers, his lips and hands gentle and warm as they skim over my body. A wicked smile sneaks across his lips as he takes in the flushed, disheveled chaos he’s left in his wake. “That overriding need to fuck, bite, and mark is your wolf wanting to solidify her claim on us, and demanding that we do the same to you.”

I jerk back at his words, stunned, and confusion flickers over his face. He studies me for a beat, and then his features harden and his gray eyes become shards of ice.

“You talk a good game for someone who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing.” His tone turns glacial.

“Aaand we’ve exited the roundabout back onto Dick Street,” I grumble, pushing him away from me and throwing my hands up in defeat. “What the hell’s your problem now?”

“My problem is you’re playing with fire and you don’t even know it!”

“I’m not coming at anyone with a lighter and kerosene,” I defend. “I’m just trying to figure this all out. Isn’t that what you wanted? Is it that hard to find a sliver of empathy like your denmates have and cut me a little slack?”

Gannon laughs but there’s no real humor in it. “Oh, it’s not empathy my denmates are feeling for you, kitten, let’s get that straight.”

“Fine, basic human decency then,” I argue.

“Wrong again, we’re not human.”

I glare at the hard glint on his face. “What do you want? What’s the real problem here? Why are you dead set on being an asshole?”

He holds his hands up innocently. “Hey, I might be an asshole, but at least I’m an honest one.”

“Oh, please,” I scoff. “Honest? Or hurt? You can pretend you’re being real here, Gannon, but all you’re doing is pouting over some shifter slight I didn’t even know I was making. This feels a hell of a lot like retribution. I just wish you’d grow some balls and explain why. What did I just do that set you off?”

Ivy Asher, Ann Denton's books