Her hands shot into his long thick hair, holding tight to the soft strands. He made a grunting sound and snatched her by her bottom to pull her against his hard cock. His erection was massive, harder than stone, and he rubbed her up and down it. She was losing control. Sweat coated her skin, her mind sang only one word over and again—yes.

She needed him, desperately, intensely. A soft moan left her lips and she pulled him even closer as her hips rocked against him. She was so close. Just a little more and her swollen core would explode in a flood of release.

His hands kneaded her cheeks with a strong sure touch. The second he sucked on her tongue her nipples reached a painful degree of hardness and her body began trembling. Still he rocked her, pressing her harder, quicker against his cock, rubbing her clitoris over it.

The kiss turned hard and so wet. She was sure the grip she had in his hair hurt him but he didn’t seem to care. He plundered her mouth with his tongue thrusting deep and thick inside. Jackie had to tear back her head to breathe. She panted wildly, sucking in gasps of air as her body reached to that peak. She quivered, core pulsing as it readied its climax.

He thrust her away.

Jackie almost collapsed. Her knees felt like they were filled with water. He stood more than ten feet away, breathing heavily, fists tight, lips flat.

“Remember what you almost had when you think about me. All you have to do is come to me, Jacquelyn. Come to me and say yes and I’ll give you the world.”

With those haunting words, he turned and walked away. Once he was out of range, Jackie finally let her knees give out. She rolled onto the ground and panted up at the bright silvery moon.

Confusion, anger, lust spiraled inside her, blending until she didn’t know what she felt. All she knew as she stared up at the sky was that Thane Vanner twisted her up inside like no other.

And he was her mate.

Draven didn’t hesitate. He barged into the bedroom, ready to fight, to do whatever it’d take to get her back in his arms.

A week he’d spent away from her, punishing himself, telling himself not to make the same mistake. He must be a slow bastard because he finally realized...that he didn’t care. He’d laughed when the anti-climactic answer hit him. He didn’t care if she ever betrayed him or not. Because he needed her. Needed her sweet smiles, her easy conversations, and curiosity. She made him feel...good.

He had no idea how much groveling he’d have to do after the way he left but he was ready to beg. If he couldn’t spend a week without her and stay sane how was he supposed to be without her for a month—or longer? Impossible. One taste of her blood, her body, and he was a goner.

Looking around their shared bedroom, Draven realized two things very quickly. One, that the room was dark for once with neither the soft glow of the lamp or the light from the fireplace illuminating the room. Second, Lucinda wasn’t here.

Had she finally grown too bored and wandered around the pack seeking anything to alleviate the boredom? The thought flared a spark of jealousy inside him.

“Damn that woman!”

She was beautiful and sweet and around a bunch of horny shapeshifters. Draven started to turn to go find her but then something caught his eye.

A single piece of paper on the bed. Flicking on the light, he cautiously picked up the paper as a feeling of unease settled inside him.

The paper was thick like parchment, dry to the touch, and folded thrice. He unfolded it and found a message written in elegant, bold cursive letters. Each letter was perfectly formed and styled with a winding twirl. It was the kind of writing that spoke of the old days, where letter writing was a serious endeavor, a gift to receive.

Dearest Draven,

It took me many tries to think of the best way to say this.

Alas, all I have is this to say to you.

I relinquish you as my host.

Love tenderly,

Lucinda

Draven stared at the words in shock.

He read them again and again as a ball of lead formed in his gut like a bowling ball. She relinquished him? He was no longer her host?

“Love tenderly?” What did that even mean? His heart raced at a fearful speed as his mind tried to make sense of it all.

The letter crumpled in his fist. With a quiet calm he walked to the tall, antique dresser and swung open the drawers—empty. He flung open drawer after drawer, searched the closet, under the bed. All empty.

She was gone. She left him.

Draven heard a strange sound and slowed his mind enough to discover what it was. It was his own ragged breathing.

In slow movements, he flattened out the letter with the pretty, italicized writing. Then he folded it and pocketed it. He was out of the room a moment later.

The pack wasn’t very big and with his vampiric speed guiding him, he was able to track her scent to a single location—the pack’s bar. He entered The Wolf’s Den and headed straight for the barkeep.

“Where’s Lucinda?” All conversation stopped in the packed bar, gazes locked on him in open curiosity. The shapeshifters around here weren’t shy about nosing in other’s business.

The barkeep crossed his arms defiantly. “I don’t know no one by that name.”

Deep breaths. “She was here. Where is she?” Her scent was too faint for her to still be here but she’d been here. Probably in a matter of hours before. She couldn’t teleport like he could but she could still get far. Away from him. The thought sent his gut twisting like a knife inside him.

“Like I said—”

“Tell me or I’ll tear your throat out.”

That got everyone’s attention. Male and female alike the shapeshifters stood and faced him with blatant aggression in their eyes.

“Lucinda’s a sweet gal. What do you want with the likes of her? ‘Specially if she don’t wanna see you?” the barkeep said.

Draven refrained from pointing out that he just admitted that he had in fact seen her, since he knew he had anyways.

“She’s my frimar. She belongs to me; I protect her. And right now with every second you string me along old man she is out there, vulnerable and alone.”

That got his attention. The old man frowned and uncrossed his arms. He looked around at the other shapeshifters as if searching for some kind of answer. He seemed to get it.

“She came in here looking for someone to give her a ride. She got a few offers when she said she was looking to get away from you.”

Draven slowly rolled his neck in a circle to release the bunched muscles trying to kill him.

“Who gave her a ride?” he gritted between clenched teeth. She was his! he wanted to scream. He’d slaked her virginity, claimed her with fangs and body. She didn’t get to run away. She’s mine.

“Don’t know if I wanna tell you that,” the man said slowly.

Draven clamped his mouth shut to keep from baring his fangs at the old shapeshifter. Didn’t matter what the race was, the older people got the more stubborn they did too.

He didn’t have time for this. “What do you want from me?” He felt useless, helpless—something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling. And he hated it.

The barkeep cocked a bushy gray eyebrow. “You gonna swear to keep her safe and protect her?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“Don’t believe you. Hard to trust a vampire.”

Half-vampire, he mentally corrected.

“Aw, come on now Tom. Can’t you see how mad he is for her?” cried a woman in the back. She wore the silly expression of one who’d drunk way too much and would be ecstatic at anything.

“I’m not mad. She is mine and I need to get her back.”

A man leaning both elbows against the bar hollered, “He loves her. Look how desperate he is. We know how that is.” Several approving murmurs sounded.

Draven felt as though he’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone. “I do not love her. She is my frimar. I require her.” The bar erupted in laughter. Everyone except the barkeep who kept a close eye on him.