Wolf instinct demands I have her. I’m still a man, but I snarl as I pull her to me, growling with an animal need as I turn her in my arms so she's facing me. I struggle to hold onto my humanity, to think logically, but red hot desire pumps through my veins. Her eyes widen, the pupils narrowing, the wolf in her responding to mine.

Then her hands are on me. Tracing the muscles of my chest, my abdomen, her fingers playing over my skin. I feel her breath on my face, warm and sweet, and I want to taste it.

I lean in, my mouth finding hers, my lips pressing against hers. She moans, a low, throaty sound that vibrates through me, making my blood sing.

She utters a sound between a whimper and a whine, more dog than girl, and then her hands are on my shirt, tearing at the fabric, and I feel it rip, feel the air on my skin, feel her hands on me. I yank her to me, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her body against my bare skin.

Her mouth opens, and I seize it with my own. I taste her, the sweet tang of her tongue, the wet heat of her mouth. My body is on fire, every nerve ending alive, every touch sending shivers down my spine, and I’m growling with the effort not to turn her over and claim her.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I say, my voice low, lusty. “I don’t know if I can hold back.”

“I don’t want you to,” she says, and she snaps her teeth at me, nipping at the skin of my neck.

I lose it then. My hands slip under her shirt, feeling the smooth skin of her back, and I'm not gentle as I tug at her clothing, pulling it over her head, baring her to me.

She gasps, and I see the way her breasts rise and fall with her breaths, the way her nipples harden in the cool air.

I dip my head, my mouth finding one breast, my tongue circling her nipple. She cries out, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding me to her.

I suckle at her breast, and she yelps when I give her a gentle bite, her fingers pulling at the scalp. My hands roam over her body, feeling the curves and lines of her. I want more. I want all of her.

I fall back against the forest floor, lying back on the hard dirt, and bring her over me. She straddles my hips, looking sexier than she should in my oversized jeans, and I feel the heat of her over my legs. I thrust against her, and she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

Her hands are at my waistband, tugging at my pants, growling in frustration as she struggles to get them off. I feel it too, the need to be free of my clothing, to be naked with her, to feel her skin on mine. I want to thrust myself inside her, feel the hot wetness of her core sliding over my cock. I want to mate with this woman.

And that’s when reality splashes cold water over me.

Everything in the universe says I should not do this.

I clasp her wrist, stopping her. The air between us stills, and she looks up at me, her eyes wide, her lips swollen from my kisses.

My heart pounds in my chest, and my body wars with my mind. I need this release.

I need this connection.

But I can't. I can't give in to this.

I have to think of her.

I clench my jaw, my body tensing, and I pull back, away from her.

“We can’t,” I say. “I’m the Alpha.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not asking to be your mate.”

“I can’t,” I say.

“Because of the curse?”

She says it so flippantly it stabs at my heart.

“It’s real,” I say, meeting her gaze. “I’ve watched it take those I love.”

She tilts her head, considering. “Then don’t love me. Just fuck me.”

Her words send a jolt through me, and I laugh. I can't help it. But she's serious, her body tense, her eyes dark with desire.

"Lyla, you don't understand--"

"I understand," she says, her hands finding mine. Our fingers lace together, and she squeezes. "I understand there's danger. But we don't have to commit."

My blood hums with her words, and I feel my heart pick up speed.

“You think you can be with me which no strings attached?" I ask.

She laughs, but there’s no mirth in it. “I never got attached to my last mate, no matter how many times I was with him.”

Something like guilt flashes through her eyes, and she averts her gaze.

I don’t ask.

I’m not like her. For me, there is no such thing as no strings attached. One taste and I will be hers forever.

But I can pleasure her.

I undo the clasp of her jeans and slide my hand down her groin. She bucks and moans as my hand slips between her legs, finding her wetness. She sighs, arching into me, and I find the hard bud between her folds and thrust against it, finding a rhythm that has her clutching at me, gasping. I work my fingers back and forth, gently at first, then more forcefully, rubbing that hard nub and pushing my fingers against her entrance as she bucks and grinds against me.

Her eyes flutter shut, and she moans, her head tipping back.

I kiss her, my lips finding her neck, her shoulder, my teeth grazing her, nipping and sucking. I want to mark her, to leave my scent on her, to claim her.

I feel her body tightening, her breath coming in short, panting gasps, and I know she's close. I can feel it, the way her muscles clench, the way her hips buck against my hand.

"Yes," she whispers, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "Yes, Kalen, please."

I growl, my body responding to her words, my need to please her overwhelming. I thrust harder, faster, and she cries out, her body arching, her muscles going tight. She shudders, and I feel her release, see the way her face contorts with pleasure, hear the way she cries my name.

I slow my movements, letting her ride out the waves of pleasure, until she slumps against me, her breath coming in short pants.

My chest heaves, desire still throbbing in me, and I want to take her, to bury myself in her.

And as if sensing this, she opens her eyes and shifts, bringing her hand to my waistband. But I grab her hand, stilling her.

Her eyes meet mine, and I see the confusion there. “Why won’t you let me?”

I shake my head. “Just you.”

Her brow furrows. “Why?”

Because if I fall in love with you, you will die.

I don’t speak.

I’m filled with fear the curse may already be stalking her life.

She’s still watching me, so I say, “You’re still healing. I can wait.”

She pulls away from me, her gaze doubtful, and I let her, my heart pounding, my body still throbbing with need.

I'm afraid. Afraid of what this means. Of what I've done.

Of what it will cost her.

I haven’t done a good job of protecting either of us.