bullshit in the back of his mind. Nothing good could come from it. He had to get his life back, because a life with Juliana Sabin was not something he could live with.
Not now. Not ever.
It infuriated him that he was being manipulated by the supernatural phenomenon, as if fate itself were plucking the strings of his life for a laugh. But even worse was the fact that he’d always found Juliana—a woman who, given his past, should have made him cold—too fascinating to ignore. Instead, he’d found himself watching her, thinking about her, working to puzzle out her contradictions too many times to count. She was so strong, and yet vulnerable. Brave, but with big gray eyes that burned with fear.
And, God, but she had the sexiest mouth he’d ever seen.
“Ashe, we need to get out of here.”
Exhaling a ragged breath, he finally turned to face her again. His muscles ached as he ran his gaze over her body, tension and misery and hunger twining together in an unbreakable knot that would eventually break him down. It was a fact he needed to face as an absolute given, like the rising of the sun and the corruption of power. Until then, he’d just have to do the best he could with what he had, and hope to hell he didn’t go too far.
Since he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his gaze off the creamy swell of flesh revealed by her torn sweater, the Lycan’s claws having caught her just above her left breast, he slipped off his leather jacket and held it out to her, silently amused by the way she cautiously crept closer, as if wary of what he would do. A sudden thought struck like a hammer in his brain, lust punching his gut so strongly he nearly dropped to his knees.
Did her hesitation mean she felt the same searing pull that he did? He knew the Burning didn’t affect the females of his species in the same way that it did the males, but it was rumored that there were some women who experienced a nearly irresistible need to be close to the man fate had chosen for them.
Something inside him started to splinter and crack, a force growing and rushing beneath his skin, gaining momentum with the raging strength of a storm. His hands shook at his sides. Sweat slipped down the hollow of his spine. He could feel each heavy pulse of his blood pumping through his veins.
Was she aching as badly as he was? Did she feel the same grinding, relentless pull?
Goddamn it. Knowing she might be feeling even a fraction of the need twisting through him was too much, shattering his control. Unable to stop himself, Ashe reached out and snagged a handful of her sweater, quickly pulling and pinning her between his body and the willow, his fist jammed right against the hammering beat of her heart.
She gasped and started to tell him to go to hell, but he cut her off, taking her mouth in a blistering kiss that was anything but soft. Hard and brutal and flavored with anger, it was more punishment than pleasure—until she moaned.
Their eyes shot open at the same time, rough breaths soughing together, and from one instant to the next, everything changed.
With a hoarse curse on his lips, Ashe shuddered against her. The night felt warmer, the air heavier…richer, as it pressed in on them. Lust spilled through his veins in a thick, decadent slide, more potent than any narcotic as it poured through his system. His tongue flicked against the velvety softness of her lower lip, coaxing her to accept him…to kiss him back. She shivered, blinking, then relented, her lips parting with a sigh…inviting him in, and he couldn’t resist, sliding his tongue against hers in an explicit kiss that was wet and deep and hungry.
“Damn it,” he gasped, breathing the words into her mouth as the heat in his body turned molten and thick. “It’s too good.”
Lush. Sweet. Delicious. God, she was everything he’d known she would be, his hands shaking as he drank in the taste of her.
Drugged by the pleasure, Ashe kissed her harder, deeper, his hands tangling in her thick, silken
Learning to Kill: Stories