She giggled. “Caring for the healer wasn’t in the list of things we discussed for a banfasa, but I can take that on, too.”
Caring for him. He looked down at her, aware of the curves of her body. Imagining her hands on him. Those soft lips under his.
A different kind of heat started to burn away the chills.
“There, now, you’re feeling better, aren’t you?” She was stroking his shoulder and arm.
Soothing was no longer what he had in mind. He took the cup from her, pleased his hand was steady again, took a sip, and set it on the coffee table. “I’m definitely feeling better.”
“Margery, it’s Margery, right?” A male walked over, face flushed with lust. One of the wolves. Hopeful and focused on Margery. “Want to come and talk with me or…”
Or go upstairs? Donal’s lips curled up in a snarl, and a sound escaped that he’d never heard himself make. The sound of a panther ready to defend its territory.
“Uh, got it, sorry.” The male jumped back and hurried toward the other side of the room.
Donal didn’t feel repentant in the least.
His gaze met Emma’s. She winked at him and rose. “Since you’re doing better, I’ll go help Ben hand out drinks. See you later, Margery.”
“Um, right.” Margery watched her friend stroll away. “Was she—”
Donal interrupted by raising her hand to his lips. He kissed her fingertips, then more intimately, her palm. Her personal scent was fresh, not sultry, more like a flower garden at dawn. He breathed it in with another slow kiss before looking down at her.
Her eyes were wide and surprised. Lovely hazel eyes, the firelight bringing out the green. Apparently realizing how she was pressed against him, she started to edge away.
“Please stay, Meggie. I’m still half-frozen,” he lied.
She immediately leaned against him. “Of course. I—”
His pleasure must have given him away. Her eyes narrowed. “Sneaky cat.”
She moved away.
“Worth a try. Lust is an excellent medicine for hypothermia, it appears.”
Giggles came from the little banfasa, so he took his chance, slinging an arm around her and pulling her back against him. “Stay where you’re put, female.”
Those wide eyes again. Could she not feel the attraction between them? He needed to be more obvious. Bending, he brushed a swift kiss over her mouth.
Yes, her lips were as soft as they’d looked. And her cheeks turned a delicate pink.
Normally, a male would discreetly check a female’s interest by sniffing her wrist, but since she was right there in the curve of his arm, he nuzzled her cheek, her ear, her neck, breathing in. The scent of her desire had his shaft growing until it strained against his jeans.
How strange. Margery hadn’t been at all interested in mating again…not until Donal sat down beside her. Then every cell in her body had jumped up and started bouncing around like a shifter at her first trawsfur.
He smelled like springtime in the foothills, so enticing she wanted to rub her face on his skin and nibble on his sharp jaw.
After finishing off his coffee, he set the cup on the table and leaned back, pulling her against him again. His arm was an iron band around her shoulders. In fact, all of him was lean muscle.
What would he feel like on top of her?
“Are the panther and bear going to be all right?” she asked, feeling as if her brain had gone into hibernation. Normally, she didn’t have trouble talking with people, but Donal and Tynan often left her stumbling over her tongue.
“They’ll be fine.” A crease appeared in Donal’s cheek. “Although sometimes I think I shouldn’t completely heal idiot fighters. I could leave some scars as a stupidity penalty.”
She giggled. “Can you get the Cosantir to agree?”
“Calum? In a heartbeat. He…”
As Donal’s fingertips made circles on her bare arm, she lost track of what he was saying. “Uhhh, say that again?”
His lips curved up, turning his severe features more compelling than she could handle. “He thinks the best way to teach young males to control themselves is a hard paw swipe over vulnerable skin.”
Ouch. “I’m glad I’m female,” she muttered.
Donal’s resonant laughter was so very masculine that quivers started deep inside her.
“I’m glad, too, as it happens.” He lifted her, set her right onto his lap with her legs dangling to the left of his, then drew her arm around his shoulders.
“Are…are you still cold?”
He chuckled, curving his arms around her, molding her to his hard torso. Her hip rubbed against a hard erection. “I can pretend I’m still cold, but we both know that’s no longer true.”
In fact, his body positively radiated heat. Or maybe that was her.
He stroked his hand up and down her back, sensitizing every inch.
She swallowed.
“So, Margery, would you care to go upstairs with me?” His gray eyes were the shade of dawn through a morning fog, holding her gaze until the room disappeared. Until she saw only sunlight.
She could think of nothing better—because this was Donal. Not just a stunning male, but someone as dedicated as she was to healing, to helping. Brilliant and grumpy and funny and heart-wrenchingly kind.
“Yes. Oh, yes.” Her voice emerged husky, almost too soft, but he heard.
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Leaning forward, he lifted her in his arms and rose to his feet. Holding her, he rubbed his cheek against her hair, marking her and claiming her with his scent as a panther would.
And then his lips took hers again in a long, drugging kiss, teasing her with his tongue, demanding a response as she sank into a whirlpool of passion.
At the top of the stairs, Donal considered the open rooms and picked his favorite—the purple room. Inside, he toed off his shoes and laid Margery down in the center of the cushioned floor.
The tiny fireplace held a nice blaze, sending heat through the room.
Margery propped herself up on her elbows. “Purple? Seriously?”
“My sweet, purple is the color of royalty. Only cats use this room.”
Her expression indicated she wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.
He was totally lying and grinned as he stripped off his shirt and jeans, then dropped down beside her. “Actually, I like the fabric.” Taking her hand, he ran her palm over the silk pillows and floor cushions.
She stroked the material. “So smooth. I see why you like it.”
“Exactly.” He lay on his side, playing with her hair, confusing himself. Normally, he’d be reacting to the female’s need.
With Margery, despite the growing urge in his dick, he wanted to take his time. Lots and lots of time.
Running his hand over her cheek, down her torso, he flattened his palm over her pelvis. Healthy female, healthy lust. He could swear her hormones were calling to his.
“Donal,” she whispered. But rather than dragging her down to him, she framed his face with her hands. Looking him right in the eyes, much like she had when she told him he was rude to a patient, when she tsked at the mess he left in the kitchen, or when she scolded him for teasing Tynan.
Because she saw not a healer, but him.