“What are you thinking?” Luna asked.

Kirith had finished his second glass of wine, and hadn’t quite registered how long he’d been staring at the Wolf shifter. He’d gone quiet, pensive. But for once in his life he was content.

“I’m thinking that you’re different,” he replied, pushing himself away from the table and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not afraid of me. All my life, people have feared me. But not you.”

“I was never afraid of you, not really,” Luna said. “I…I used to watch you, you know. In the woods, near your cottage. I had quite a crush on you.”

Kirith raised an inquisitive eyebrow. The revelation wasn’t altogether surprising. He recalled evenings when a pair of bright Wolf’s eyes had flashed in the dark of the woods. In those days he’d assumed it was simply a shifter out for a hunt, someone stumbling upon his cottage. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might be the same Wolf returning for multiple visits.

It was flattering to know that she’d admired him.

Of course, he’d been married then. He’d been a different man in a different life.

“Now why would you do that?” he asked. Perhaps he was looking for a compliment. Or maybe he was just searching for a moment of normalcy.

“Because I thought you incredibly handsome,” she said, her cheeks flushing. Her freckled, ivory skin had a way of turning entirely crimson, as though her blood flow had suddenly gone into overdrive. “I always thought you were what a man should be.”

Kirith rose to his feet and walked over to the counter, turning to face her and pressing his hands into the counter “And what do you say now?” he asked. “Have you realized your error in judgment?”

He watched as she pushed her chair back and walked slowly towards him. Her hands landed on his waist, and she pressed herself close, her eyes looking up into his, reminding him how small she was. “No error,” she said. “I was right back then. The only error I made was to ever think ill of you.”

His breath was coming in shallow waves as her hands moved up towards his chest, exploring his taut abdomen. She pushed her torso towards his and held him for a moment, a gesture of pure affection as their breathing patterns melded, their hearts beating in unison.

“Luna,” he whispered. His hands were holding onto the edge of the counter so hard that he thought he might tear it from its base.

“You are still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. The sexiest man,” she said.

“I’m a wreck,” he protested quietly. “I’m not what I was then.”

“You still have a heart. You still have this body,” she whispered, reaching for the front of his jeans. She slid a hand over his fly, pressing gently into the hard-on that had once again begun to throb for her.

She was right, of course. He still had a man’s body, and it ached for a woman’s touch, just as it always had. Some things never died, no matter how much he wished they would.

Letting go of the counter, he took her face in his hands and pulled himself so close that their lips all but met. But then he froze, hunger eating away at him as he denied himself his meal.

“Kiss me,” she said.

He wanted to. So badly. Wanted to taste the honey sweetness of her, to meet her tongue with his. He wanted that intimacy, that moment of free fall. The first moment, the one that only ever happened once, then never again.

Kisses were so good. They were wonderful. The most perfect experience known to man or woman.

But he couldn’t do it.

If he kissed her, if he pulled her into his mind and heart, he would never be able to walk away from her. Never be able to fulfill his destiny.

Still, there were ways to satisfy a craving without giving in entirely. He’d managed it last night, and he could do it again.

He pulled her head to the side, forcefully but gently, and lay his lips on her neck, his tongue tasting the salt on her flesh . His hands reached for the bottom of her dress and pulled upwards.

A lacy thong greeted his touch. He yanked the stretchy fabric away with his thumb and slipped his middle finger over her sex.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he moaned, kissing his way down her cleavage as he fell to his knees. He raked fingernails over her bare shoulders, trailing red marks behind as he nipped at her breasts through the thin dress.

Silently he eased her panties down to the floor and pushed her thighs apart, hiking her dress up over her hips. His lips met the delicately trimmed line of red hair that led down to her sex, then he slipped his tongue over her bud, drawing a soft yelp from her.

“I want you inside me,” she said again. She was testing him, surely. She’d said it last night and he’d kicked her out. Surely she knew he might do it again.

But this time, he rose to his full height and stared into her eyes as he undid his jeans, pulling them to the floor and stepping out of them. He spun her around so that she faced the cupboards, and lifted her so that she bent over, grabbing onto the faucet with one hand, the edge of the counter with the other.

He fisted his engorged cock, pressing its tip in between her lips.

“This is what you want?” he snarled, a feral desire working its way through him like wildfire.

“Yes,” she gasped, pulling her head to the side so he could see her profile. “I want you.”

With one thrust he entered her, drawing a long cry from her lips. He pushed her dress up and hooked his hands around her hips, driving himself hard into her.

He’d feared intimacy, but this wasn’t intimate. This was hard, and desperate, and feral. This wasn’t love-making; it was fucking. He was taking her for his own, but only for one night. Only so that they could walk away from each other knowing that their needs had been met.

He slowed his pace, wrapping his arm around her to slip his thumb over her clit as he rocked his hips back and forth. He watched as her body milked his thick cock, her cries increasing in intensity as he drew pleasure from her.

“I want you to come, little Wolf,” he snarled, pressing his thumb into her bud. “Come for me, and I’ll return the favour.”

“I’m close,” she moaned, and he focused on her ecstasy, slipping the head of his cock in and out as he massaged her swollen bud. “Fuck, I’m going to…”

When he felt the first pulse of her orgasm, he drove himself deep inside her and let her body take possession of his. With each pulse of her channel, he came closer to exploding. But he wouldn’t allow himself that bliss. It would be too intimate to come inside her. It would bond them. So he waited until she’d settled before drawing his length out and grasping it hard in his fist.

“I want to watch,” she said, spinning herself around and lifting her dress over her head to drop it to the ground.

Kirith stared at those beautiful breasts of hers as he stroked his cock. Watched her slip her fingers up to her nipples and pinch them gently, hardening them to perfect rosy peaks for him. The bandage that he’d adhered to her side was still there, a reminder of the previous night. But she seemed indifferent to the wound, focused only on staring at him as he stroked his shaft.

She eased her shoulders down, leaning as far back as she could. Kirith stepped forward and pumped his cock, seeing exactly what she was offering.

When he exploded, his seed landed in hot streams on her belly and breasts. He slammed his eyes shut, avoiding the sight of it. It was too good. She was too beautiful, lying back like that, giving her body to him for his own selfish purposes.

He felt himself shutting down and backed away, cursing himself for what had just happened between them.

A real man would have come inside her. He would have held her, told her he cared.

A real man wouldn’t move away, wincing in emotional agony as soon as the act was done.

“I’ll clean you up,” he said hoarsely, his eyes still failing to meet hers even after he’d opened them.

She reached over and turned on the tap. “It’s okay,” she said. “I can do it.”

He could hear the hurt in her voice. His coldness had wounded her. He knew that she wanted more from him. But he couldn’t give it. There was nothing inside him to give, and he wanted so badly to say so.

I’m not whole, Luna. I am less than a man.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning away.

“Sorry for what?”

“For what I am.”

And for what I’m not.