Tremors riddled Sylvia to the bone. Someone actually tried to hurt her, let alone maybe kill her. If Braxton hadn't been there, hadn't sensed the snake, she would have reached into her bag and gotten bit. All this over a stupid video game? Could someone really be that shallow, that black in their heart they'd kill for it?

Sylvia couldn't fathom the idea of it. But then, you can't really understand the insane. Part of her just wanted to pack her stuff up and head home. It wasn't worth it. But the other part of her said not to let the evil win, to take a stance and show she wouldn't be threatened. Of course, she felt a lot braver with Braxton by her side. If he weren't there, she probably would have already been on a plane home.

Still, he could have gotten himself killed with that snake. Another person could have died because of her. She had to call the whole thing off before anyone got hurt.

Braxton jogged back down the hallway, dodging people along the way. His chin-length hair bounced with each stride. The muscles in his thighs flexed in his jeans, threatening the seams they were so thick and sinewy. He changed from his long-sleeve button-down he had on earlier to a black bicep-hugging t-shirt. He was like sex on legs running toward her. Women stepped aside, gasping and clutching their chests as he brushed by them. The lust in their eyes at the sight of him was evident. And a possessive growl rumbled in her chest. She jumped back, shocked at herself. Where the hell did that come from?

Yet, he chose her. He made love to her only hours ago. Pledged himself to protect her, to love her. It was ridiculous and overwhelming. She couldn't possibly be his mate, could she?

Everything about him turned her on, from his looks, to his sex skills, to his protectiveness. He was a shifter, and a SEAL. Could he be a more lethal weapon? But she liked that she felt safe with him, and that he wanted to be with her.

Her.

Sylvia Schneider.

He rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her, clutching her to his chest. “I'm sorry I had to take off, but I can't talk in my wolf form. I don't know how you knew to give me the keycard, but thank you.”

Sylvia pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to the rhythmic hum of his heartbeat. “I'm not sure. Something just told me to give it to you.”

“How are you doing? Are you okay?” He pulled back and cupped each of her cheeks in his large hands.

“I'm still alive, thanks to you.” Words left her. How could she thank him for saving her life?

“Do you want to go back to the room? You don't have to go through with this, you know.” Braxton shifted his hand to the back of her neck, tangling his fingers through her hair.

She took a deep breath and swallowed back the lump of fear in the back of her throat. “No. I have to get this done and over with. It's one day. I can do this.” Sylvia blew out the breath and picked up her bags.

Braxton clutched them from her and carried them down the hall into the convention room, while one arm slung around her waist, holding her close to him. The smell of his cologne and his manly aroma sent her head spinning. His nearness set off a fire inside her. Something about him ignited a passion inside her she didn't understand. Maybe there was something to this mating thing. But she was human? How would that even work?

Braxton curled his fingers into her curves, holding tighter to her as they entered the convention room and the mass of people already gathered there. A sea of red ball caps filled the room, and Sylvia dug her nails into his arm, holding on. Anxiety filled her, sending a surge of adrenaline through her veins.

“Hey now, careful or you'll draw blood,” Braxton said with a laugh.

Sylvia glanced at his arm and four red slashes welted up on his skin. She jumped from his embrace. “Holy shit, did I do that?”

He gave a light shrug, as if it was nothing. “Would appear so.”

“I'm so sorry. How did I even do that?”

“It'll heal. As a shifter, I heal faster than most.” Braxton raised his arm, wiped the blood away with his other hand, and the skin repaired itself in seconds, as if she'd never scratched him.

“Well, that's handy.” Sylvia stared at his arm, blinking until she made herself dizzy.

“I've had far worse on the battle-field. Trust me. I know you're scared, rightfully so. You didn't realize you were even doing it. Although,” he paused and took her hand in his, inspecting her nails with vigor. “Your nails don't seem very sharp. Do you bite them?” He arched a brow.

She winced. Just add one more embarrassing thing to her list. “Yeah. Bad habit.”

“Your nails are bit to the bed. So how the hell did you scratch me so bad?” Worry lined his face, and Sylvia felt the same in her gut. How did she manage to cut him with no nails?

Just like last night, with the scratches down the wall. Saliva pooled in her mouth and dizziness swarmed her head. Nausea sprung its way up from her stomach until it inundated her.

“You don't look so good, Sylvia, are you okay? What's wrong? Talk to me.” Braxton's panicked voice only sent her further into a tailspin.

Heat flushed her body, and she clawed at her clothes with her fingers, trying to get them off her, as if they were binding, restricting. Numbness crawled through her like poison, ripping her balance out from under her. Braxton dropped everything and dove to catch her, remarkably similar to the way he did in her apartment. Seemed like he did nothing but save her since the moment they met.

The closest clear area was the game booth, and Braxton laid her on the floor behind the curtain. “Sylvia, talk to me. What's going on?”

Words felt heavy in her mouth, stuck behind a thick heat and longing for his lips and tongue. Like what could cure her would be his taste, his touch. She gripped either side of his face and pulled him to her, crushing her mouth to his. Something took over inside her, a driving need to unite with him.

She'd never in her life been so forward with a man, but she had no control over herself, over the ache inside that could only be quenched by him. Something else entirely possessed her body. He returned the kiss, shocked at first, before slanting his lips and sweeping her mouth with his hot tongue. Yes, that's what she wanted, what she needed.

She curled her fingers through his hair, against his scalp and a growl rumbled in his chest. That sound drove her onward as she explored this neck and shoulders, kneading his skin under her fingertips.

“Sylvia,” he said, still pressed against her mouth. “Sweetie, I don't think you want to do this here. Let me take you back to the room.”

“No,” she cried out, pulling his face back to hers.

“Hey,” he whispered, breaking the kiss. He clamped his hands on either side of her face, calming her, holding her still. “Look at me. What's going on with you?” Braxton gripped her hands, holding them steady in his. His brows pinched together as he stared at her, worry filling his grayish-blue eyes. “You're really burning up, Sylvie. You must have a fever. We need to get you back to the room.”

Sylvie…no one had called her that in such a long time. Used to be her daddy's pet name for her. But on Braxton's lips, it fired a tingle in her belly, a closeness, a connection. It melted her heart even more for him.

“Only if you come with me.” She moaned every word, unsure if they actually made it out of her mouth.

Her hands shook as she ripped off her jacket and tried to unzip the back of her dress. The heat overwhelmed her, making her even more dizzy. She needed air, she needed to be free of her clothes. Needed to be naked and under Braxton. The clothes, the room, the people, nothing mattered but him. The fever inside her swelled, glistening across her skin in a sheen.

What the hell was happening to her?

---

Braxton carried her back to the room and eased her onto the bed. Sweat slicked her body, like a broken fever. Her dilated pupils hid the deep brown in her eyes to a mere halo. Her skin almost burned to the touch. He ran to the bathroom and got a cold washcloth. When he returned, she had torn off her dress and tossed it to the floor.

She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled her way over to him. His heart raced, thundering in his ears as he watched her. She was so fucking sexy, like an animal stalking her prey. Yes, baby, come to me.

He kicked his own ass for thinking it. She was sick, this was no time to have sex with her.

“I need you, Braxton. I need you like I've never needed anything in my life…air, food, water… none of it matters unless you're inside me.” She sat back on her knees and fumbled with the zipper on his jeans.

He grated his teeth, gnashing them together as he tried to force his wolf from diving at her and taking her right there in the middle of the floor. Her pink nipples peeked out from behind her lacy bra, and the tiny thong barely covered the patch between her full thighs.

He hungered for her, like she was in heat.

In heat…her fever, her dizziness, her scratching.

But she was human? Maybe she was just reacting that way because she was his mate. Maybe she would finally understand the need to form the mating bond, to be claimed. All of his brothers had mated with other shifters. He didn't know anything about mating with a human.

“Sweetie, you should rest. It's been a rough day, and you're not acting like yourself.” The words tangled on his tongue. He didn't want her to rest, he wanted her to pull his dick out and suck it. But he warred with himself, knowing he couldn't take advantage of her like this.

But no sooner than the thought occurred to him, she pulled out his rock-hard cock and wrapped her mouth around it. The heat of her lips and tongue swallowed him and he lost control, running his fingers through her hair as she worked her mouth on him. The room whirled around him as she took him to another time, another place with each glide of her tongue, graze of her teeth, and pull of her lips.

“Sylvie, shit,” he gasped, thrusting his hips forward in rhythm with her sucking. “You need to…stop. You're…sick.”

“You don't want me to stop. And I don't want to stop,” she said, flicking her tongue the length of his shaft. “Touching you, feeling you, tasting you makes the sickness go away. I can't explain it. Braxton, please. I need you inside me. Make the fever go away. Make the pain go away.”

He pulled her up from her knees, picked her up in his arms, and laid her back on the bed. “What pain? What are you talking about?”

“Something's going on inside me, like things are rearranging, moving, crunching and tearing. I feel like I'm going to explode. There's a fire inside me, licking at my core, and only when you're near does it ease, does the pain fade because you heat me in a different way. Your touch undoes me. Please, make the pain go away.” Tears pooled in her eyes and a knife sliced through is heart. He hated to see his mate cry, let alone in pain. He didn't know what to do and would feel like an asshole taking advantage of her in this state. Yet, she begged him to help her and if he was the only one that could…

Brushing away the hair slicked to her face, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He wanted to take it slow and gentle, but she pulled him on top of her, deepening the kiss and swept his mouth with urgency and need.

She worked in a fury to pull his shirt out of his jeans and slid her hands over his torso, touching, feeling like she couldn't get enough. A fiery burn blazed in his veins, and he ripped his shirt off before diving back at her lips. So much for taking it slow. He needed her, and she needed him.

She pushed his jeans over his hips, not even allowing him time to fully take them off. He slid her thong to the side and nudged her clit with his cock. Fresh arousal greeted him, slicking him as he rubbed against her core, and the scent spiraled around him, fueling him to take her. A loud moan burst from her lips as he pivoted his hips, rocking and sliding between her folds.

“Yes, Braxton, dear god, yes,” she cried out, clinging to his body as she neared her first climax.

She soaked his hand as he moved his cock to her entrance and finished rubbing her clit with his fingers through her orgasm. How wet she got for him blew his mind. He thrust inside her and she nearly came off the bed. Her tight walls clutched his heavy, throbbing dick. She clenched around him, and he just about came right then and there. But he pulled out, sucked in a deep breath, inhaling her delicious scent, and she whimpered.

“Please, Braxton, make me come again,” she begged. Drunk desire filled her eyes as she stared at him with such longing it nearly broke his heart.

He plunged back inside her, and her loud groan led the rhythmic dance of their bodies united. A slice of pain dragged along his back, but it fused with the pleasure inside him as their bodies pressed together. Slicked with sweat, ignited by a driving heat, their bodies twisted and rocked until a primal howl ripped from his lungs, followed by her moaning climax.

His body shook as tremors ripped inside him, as if the urge to shift was right beneath the surface. His wolf needed to claim her, right then, to make her his forever. He dove toward her neck, but stopped as he bared his teeth. His fangs poked at her skin, ready to pierce it and take her.

No, she had to give him permission. She had to want it.

“Sylvia,” he whispered into her ear “Will you be mine? Will you let me claim you?”

But silence answered him as the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath him said she had passed out.

“Fuck,” he growled, unable to hold back the defeated tone in his voice.

He pulled out of her and rolled over, running his hands through his drenched hair. They were both soaked with sweat and sex, but he didn't care. In the last two days, he'd had the most magnificent sex of his life. Surely after this, she would know, would understand that she was meant to be his. And he was meant for her.

He forced himself to the shower, as much as he didn't want to wash away the scent of his mate from him. She needed to sleep it off, to rest. He'd get her up in time for her game reveal later in the day, and then talk to her about the mating ritual. No one would take his Sylvia away from him.

She was his.