But Kellan's touch was gentle. His face was sober, eyes full of heat and regret as he bent his head down and kissed the white knuckles on both of her clenched fists.
Mira's body heaved with impotent fury. She wanted to scream at him, but all that slipped past her lips was a choked little moan. She couldn't move, could hardly pull air into her raw lungs, as Kellan's gaze bored into hers. His grasp loosened, and he reached out to smooth his fingers along the side of her face, tracing past the tiny teardrop-and-crescent-moon birthmark that rode at her left temple.
His breath left him on a whispered curse as he put his mouth to her forehead and pressed a kiss there, his trim beard gently abrading her brow. Another kiss to her Breedmate mark . . . then still another, this one landing softly, sweetly on her parted lips.
She wanted to tell him no, but everything female within her responded to his kiss with melting, undeniable welcome. His lips brushed over hers, warm and wet, making her thirst for something more. She darted her tongue out to meet his and felt his strong body go tense against her. He broke away only for a moment, just looking at her, his breath hot against her cheek with his growled curse.
His big hands trembled as he brought them up to cradle her face in his palms. So gentle. So heartbreakingly reverent. His thumb caressed the line of her jaw, then drifted down along the side of her neck, pausing over the pulse point that throbbed like a drumbeat with every careful stroke of his touch. Wordlessly, he bent forward and kissed her again.
She couldn't stop him from claiming her mouth, any more than she could stop the wild jolt of pleasure that traveled through her like liquid fire. Kellan seemed equally moved, equally helpless to keep from touching her, kissing her, desiring her as much as she craved him. His skin felt hot to her touch, his dermaglyphs pulsing in reaction to his body's needs. His arousal was swift and obvious, a ridge of unyielding granite pressing with demand against her abdomen. She reveled in the feel of him, so hard and wanting, so powerfully alive.
No matter what he said, he wanted her. There could be no mistaking that now. Not even the circumstances that held them apart - the untenable situation that put them on opposite sides of the law - could erase the desire they once knew. The desire that hadn't banked in all the years Kellan had been gone, no matter how badly they both might wish it had.
And he was hungered in another way too.
She felt that hunger swelling as his mouth left hers on a snarl and drifted along her jawline, then down the sensitive column of her neck. His fangs grazed her skin, sharp and deadly, a bite she craved more than her next breath. The vein beneath her earlobe went electric with each teasing abrasion of his fangs against her throat.
Desire swamped her, pulling her head to the side as his sharp kiss roamed the length of her neck. As reckless as it was to wish for it, she wanted to feel that delicious scrape linger at her carotid. She wanted to feel her tender flesh yield for him - only him - something she'd craved from him for as long as she could remember.
Something he'd resisted with an iron will that seemed unbreakable, even now.
"No," he growled, a savage, raw sound. His eyes were searingly hot, pupils razor-thin, otherworldly. He was shaking, his beautiful chest and arms livid with the colors of twining thirst and desire. And yet his hands remained on her, strong fingers trembling as they continued to caress her. "Jesus Christ, Mira . . ."
She knew he felt the same powerful pull that she did. She knew he desired her, craved her body and her blood. She knew he wanted to sink his fangs into her with the same fevered need that she felt to be the Breedmate beneath his binding bite.
God help her, she would give him that right now, right here, and to hell with everything else. Kellan would be hers, again and forever. They would figure the rest out somehow, together, bound by blood.
"Please," she whispered, not caring a damn for how weak and vulnerable she sounded. All that mattered was Kellan's hands on her, his breath warm and moist on her throat, fangs pressing deliciously against her willing flesh.
"No," he snarled, more forcefully this time. His fingers dug into her arms as he set her away from him with a gruff shake of his head. "I won't, Mira. I can't. Don't let me make a bad situation worse."
He didn't wait for her to reply. No, he didn't even give her that chance. He dropped his hands from her and backed away. Then, with a further, vicious curse, he wheeled around and stalked out of the room.
What the f**k was he thinking?
Kellan stalked out of his quarters, every nerve ending on fire and snapping at the bit for a taste of Mira. His pulse hammered hard, echoing in his ears and temples, throbbing in his chest and groin. Everything male in him was lit up with need. Everything preternatural, otherworldly and wild, was roaring with the urge to take what he so badly wanted.
Mira.
In his bed, na**d and hot beneath him. He wanted to feel her wet heat swallowing him whole. Wanted to pleasure her until she screamed his name, not in anger or distress, but urgent, desperate release.
And yes, he wanted to pierce her vein and draw her lily-sweet blood into his body until nothing else mattered.
Until she was bound to him as his eternal mate, where no laws, no lies, no damnable fate could keep them apart ever again.
Holy hell.
The urge to make that a reality - right here, right now - nearly set his boots on a reverse course, back to his chamber. It took all the self-control he had to keep himself moving on his forward path. His footsteps echoed sharply on the earthen floor of the bunker's corridor. His transformed eyes threw a bright amber glow against the dingy concrete walls. His head rang with the fevered pound of his pulse, each beat a reminder of the thirst that raked him.