He didn’t need to think. Viktor volleyed questions at her like he’d been saving them up for years. What time do you normally wake up in the morning? What’s your favorite color? Have you ever seen Kaz having a bad hair day? What’s it been like on the vineyard? Do you want to keep running it? Did you go to college? What did you study?
The serious mingled with the silly and the blessedly mundane. Camille gave back as good as she got, though she did her best to steer around the landmines of their past. Instead, she asked about life in the pack, how he’d become so good at making investments in m-tech startups, what his favorite — disgusting — food was, and whether he could sleep sitting up.
It was fun, and it had been so very long since she had fun that Camille almost forgot what it felt like.
“How about you tell me exactly how this elvish courtship is supposed to go? Aren’t we technically skipping ahead? I’d hate to get you in trouble with your big bad cousin for not following the rules.”
Camille hid her smile behind her knees. She had always broken the rules for Viktor. The moment she laid eyes on him that day in the garden, she broke her own biggest rule: never love like her mother had.
And yet there was no stopping it now. As inexorable as the hope that blossomed in her chest, her feelings for Viktor had their own power, their own agency. They fought to survive even when she did everything in her power to kill them.
They were strong, and now that they had hope, they were unstoppable.
“Well, you could say this is the second meeting,” she allowed, feeling the giddy, if cautious, urge to play with him. To tease. “We’re supposed to have some sort of chaperone, though. And no one would have a second meeting so soon after the first. That implies favoritism.”
Viktor didn’t move, but she got the uncanny sense that he sank into a hunting crouch, as if he was prepared to spring at the slightest provocation. His smile turned just shy of wicked when he purred, “Does that make me your new favorite?”
Heat pulsed between her legs. Camille’s breath shortened. Flushing, she lifted her head to primly inform him, “I never said that.”
“So you’re still trying to convince me you’ve got another favorite? Cute.”
“I do have an elvish favorite,” she shot back, though it sounded weak even to her own ears.
He tilted his head to one side, sending several blond curls tumbling across his tanned forehead. The way he narrowed his eyes did not convince her that he actually believed her bluff.
“Hm, interesting. I wonder if he could make you come as hard as I did, or if he knows that you like it a little rough.” A distinctly lupine smile turned his expression into something feral, hungry. “I wonder if he knows how badly you want my bite.”
Camille opened her mouth before she thought about what might fly out of it. “Well, seeing as I’ve slept with him—”
A growl shook the air between them, cutting her off before she could say something even more stupid.
In one smooth motion, Viktor was on his hands and knees, his lethal body lowered in a deep, predatory crouch. Golden skin rippled over tense muscle as magic, wild and animalistic, permeated the air. His eyes were two furious circles of luminous gold.
She should have been afraid. Viktor looked about half a step away from shifting, and being an alpha of his strength meant he might actually be able to do some damage to her if he chose to.
And yet, she didn’t feel any fear.
Her blood pumped faster, rushing in her ears, as adrenaline and lust came hard on the heels of her sense of danger. Uncurling her legs from her chest, Camille flexed her claws on her thighs. Play, instinct whispered, sending a shot of pure joy through her chest. Finally, he wants to play!
“You really want to test those claws on me, don’t you?” he rumbled, lip curling over straight white teeth and rapidly elongating canines.
Strangely breathless, she answered, “Maybe. I’m not sure you can handle it, though.”
Another hair raising growl made her squeeze her thighs together. Desire was a molten heat between her legs, only made worse with every beat of her pulse.
“Sweetheart, I don’t care if you slept with every man on the West Coast.” His voice dropped into a low, low purr. The light of the fire danced in his heavy-lidded eyes. He rose up onto his knees slowly, one hand resting on the elastic band of his athletic pants, above the tantalizing outline of his rigid cock. Every deep breath hollowed out the arch under his ribs.
He hooked his thumb under the waistband, taunting her, and murmured, “I wouldn’t care if you fucked the entire UTA, sweetheart, as long as you admit I made you see fuckin’ stars.”
She swallowed a whimper of pure, unadulterated want. “And if I don’t?”
His smile was a knife’s slash, hard and sharp. “Then I guess I’ll have to try harder next round. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name.”
She barely remembered his name now. “Oh?”
He pushed his hand down, ever-so-slightly, baring more tantalizing skin and a sprinkle of crisp blond hair. The mouthwatering arches of his Adonis belt drew her eyes downward, until she was gazing hungrily at the hard outline of his cock.
His reply was a silken purr. “Yes, oh.”
Camille’s heart raced. She wanted to lunge around the fire and tackle him into the sand. She wanted to lick every salty, delicious inch of him. She wanted to feel his fist in her hair and his mouth on hers. Gods, she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
She felt that deep unraveling again, faster than before. If they made contact, that was it. No more choice. No more ice baths. No more union. Her life would be over.
Or it would finally begin, her heart whispered.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she stared at him. He didn’t move, though he nearly vibrated with tension. He didn’t breathe. He waited, despite what she guessed was a crushing wave of instinct, for her to choose him.
Because she was his mate. Despite the obstacles and the years, he loved her still. He wanted her. More importantly, he wanted her to want him back.
Everything in her shifted.
Affection glowed, rich and vibrant, in her chest. He’s a good man — and better, he could be mine, if only I had the courage to give myself to him in return.
“Vik, I—”
A low whine, barely audible over the whistle of wind, was their only warning before the bolt slammed into Viktor’s shoulder.
Chapter Twenty-Two
At first, he only registered the impact.
Viktor felt the slam of some great force into his shoulder, throwing him back into the sand. His teeth clacked together, clipping his tongue, and the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth. There was a dull roar in his ears as his mind fought to catch up with what had happened.
In the space between blinks, reality bled into his awareness. So did pain.
I’ve been fucking shot, he realized, trying to breathe through the agonizing burn. Pain threatened to blot out his vision. Black spots floated in front of his eyes, muddying the glow of the fire, the sight of Camille lunging around it to cover him with her own body as sand sprayed in a wide arc around her.
Dazed, it took him a second to figure out why that was bad and why on Earth she would do it in the first place.