I won’t be enough— The traitorous thought struggled to rise, and she rejected it. Magic or not, hound or not, it was Wilder above her, a man she craved with everything she was.

She didn’t need to be enough, and opening her eyes confirmed it. Hunger was there, and need, but something deeper stared out from his wild gaze. Something that made her heart leap. In this moment, she wasn’t just enough.

She was everything.

Moving slowly, she lifted her hands to his shoulders, smoothing her fingers along bunching muscles as she returned his smile. “Take me higher.”

He did.


The hours were a blur of skin and sex.

Wilder traced his hand over the curve of Satira’s hip and drew her closer, until he had her ass nestled against him. “Like this?”

She trembled, her breath coming in tiny, hitching gasps. “Oh—oh yes. It’s—it’s…” He gritted his teeth and eased deeper, until the slick head of his cock breached the impossibly tight ring of muscle. He had to go slowly, carefully introduce her to this new sensation.

“Wilder—” So tight, but she was eager too, damn near vibrating with indecision as her hips moved in small jerks—first away, like it was too much, then back, taking him deeper as if she couldn’t get enough.

He pressed harder, pulling her to meet his slow, careful thrust. “See, sweetheart?” The only way he could manage would be to get her off fast, so he slid his fingers around to her clit.

The moan started deep inside her and twisted into hoarse cry as he stroked her. She was so close it didn’t take much, a few firm circles in just the right spot and she went wild for him.

Holding back was impossible then, control a distant dream, but Wilder knew deep inside that he wouldn’t hurt her. He would sooner take one of her fancy weapons and turn it on himself.

No, he wouldn’t give her pain. He’d give her pleasure, ecstasy.

“Satira.”

Her tongue dragged over his cock in slow, teasing swipes, but through the lust he could see mischief in her eyes. When she lifted her head, her hands came to her breasts. Pressed them together. She arched her back and smiled, nothing shy or retiring left in her demeanor. “You enjoy looking at them. Would you enjoy fucking them?”

A thrill of lust shot through him as he looked down at her, at the soft, pale flesh she held on display.

“And give up your mouth?”

“It seems like you might be able to enjoy both, though it’s only a theory.” Her dark eyes held only excitement and anticipation. “Proving a theory requires rigorous experimentation.”

“Yes, it does.” He thrust against her, hissing in a breath when her soft flesh hugged his shaft. “Fuck.” She circled her tongue around the head of his erection with a satisfied little noise. “See?” Wilder groaned. “Do it again.”

Her breath caught, as if his reaction was enough to make her tremble. She licked him slowly this time, lingering as she stared up at him with big, hungry eyes. He could picture that tongue gliding out to catch an errant drop as her delicate fingers massaged his seed into her skin.

His hips jerked of their own volition, and he reached for her, stroking his thumbs roughly over her nipples. “More.”

So quick to obey, so eager. Every way he touched her seemed to delight her. Her trust was open and endless, even now as she squirmed and gasped under his attentions but focused on pleasing him.

“Yes,” he rasped. “Make me come, and you know I’ll return the favor.” She hummed her agreement. “Tell me how?”

Oh, he’d tell her, all right. “I can do that.”

And he did.


He cupped water in his hands and let it cascade down Satira’s shoulder, over her breasts. “Why haven’t you gone east to study, like Juliet’s son?”

“Because he’s a son.” She drew her knees toward her chest, and it looked like she was curling in on herself. “They don’t allow women to join the official Guild or serve as inventors in any of the others, like the Bloodhound Guild. They won’t even let me attend any of the schools.” He snorted. “So they’re stupid.”

Satira shrugged and looked away. “Many people are. It isn’t important. We all do what we can with the lives we have.”

The words belied her obvious pain. Wilder wanted to drag her out of the tub and into his lap, but he settled for pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. “Perhaps the Guild will have a different opinion of you when you bring Nathaniel back.”

“Perhaps.” She tried to force a smile. “They won’t risk Nathaniel refusing to work, in any case.

Perhaps the new bloodhound he’s assigned to will be tolerant of me as his apprentice.”

“You don’t think so?”

Satira didn’t respond at first. Her fingers dragged a washcloth up and down her arm as if she wasn’t paying much attention to what she was doing. Finally she sighed. “I think I’m clean enough. If you’re feeling peaceful, maybe we should turn in so you can rest while the need isn’t riding you so hard.”

“Hey.” He tilted her face up with his fingers under her chin. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to ruin this,” she whispered. “I don’t want to think past now. Let me be safe in your arms tonight. Let me be your woman.”

She said it as though there would come a time when she wouldn’t be—and of course there would.

When this was all over, and she and Nathaniel were safe, and the Bloodhound Guild took on the task of deciding where Wilder was most needed next.

For a moment, the shock of the realization robbed him of his breath. Then he reached for her. “Come here.”

Water slid from her body as she rose, wet and bare, and all but tumbled into him. Fingers grasped, her lips found his neck—but she didn’t do anything but tremble and cling to his shoulders.

Wilder wrapped his arms around her, heedless of the water. “They never send me too far,” he whispered. A promise, or maybe an excuse—even he wasn’t sure.

She made a quiet noise and curled closer. Tension left her in bits and pieces, and her shaking eased.

“I’m yours, for now.”

“Mine.” He refused to qualify it, to give it an inevitable ending.

He felt her smile.


Satira panted his name with every slow thrust, a familiar refrain in a voice gone hoarse from three nights of determined loving.

He’d learned enough to coax her legs higher up his sides, around his back, so that his next thrust made her cunt tighten around him, body primed for pleasure. She showed her appreciation with a broken moan, digging her head back into the pillows to reveal her pale throat.

She bore bruises from his teeth already, so he nipped at her jaw with a groan. “Come on, sweetheart.” One trembling hand stroked his cheek. “Only one—” A gasp. “One more. I can’t… Come with me, Wilder. This time, come with me.”

Tense pleasure coiled at the base of his spine, ready to strike. “Just one, no more?”

“Just—just…” Her nails scored his cheek as she scrambled to clutch at his shoulder. “Wilder—” Her body gripped his, her inner muscles rippling, and he lost it. He drove deep and came, shudders wracking him as he joined her in bliss.

When he could breathe again, he dropped his face to her neck. “Christ.”

“Mmm.” The tips of her fingers stroked along his shoulders. “You seem…more at ease. Does that mean the new moon’s power is almost gone?”

“Either that, or you’ve managed to wear me the fuck out.”

Satira’s laugh sounded delighted. “On the first day I met you, I told you I could handle a hard ride.” He hadn’t believed her, but he should have. “I’ll concede the point. I’m a judgmental jackass.”

“But a personable one. And I’ll confess, I’m feeling a bit worn out myself.” Underneath him, her body felt liquid. Boneless. “I could do well by a little gentle handling.” Wilder rolled away and gathered her close. “Meaning to keep my pants on for the foreseeable future?” Satira wrinkled her nose and settled her cheek on his shoulder. “Maybe a few days. Not that I haven’t enjoyed every moment of it…but I’m glad it only happens once a month.” No matter how close the Guild kept him, Wilder doubted he would make it back to her every month.

The thought chilled him. “You need to rest.”

“I am resting.” The words came out sleepy and contented. “I feel…exhausted. And wonderful. And alive.”

Alive. So many plans to make, things to discuss, and now they’d lost the last few days. “We need to talk about what we’ll face when we raid the compound.”

Her fingers curled into a fist against his chest. “As long as you understand that it’s we and not you.” Even if he’d thought she might stay behind, he couldn’t leave her alone. “I know.” After a moment, she relaxed again. “I don’t have the time and tools needed to do anything particularly fancy, but I can put a hole in any wall, or bring a building down, if I need to.”

“I won’t know what we need to plan for until I see where Nathaniel is being kept.”

“I’ll follow your lead, Wilder. I won’t be left behind…but I’ll follow your lead. I promise.”

“That’s all I’ve ever asked, sweetheart.”

“Mmm.” She turned her head and kissed his shoulder. “What do you think we’ll face when we reach the vampire’s home?”

They could meet slight resistance or an army of ghouls and vampires—but Wilder had his suspicions.

“If this vampire needed to have Archer lay a trap for us, chances are he’s not holed up in a fortress. There are weak spots in his defenses.”

“Do you think Archer will be there?”

He tried—and failed—not to tense. “Probably. If I were that bloodsucker, I’d want him around to deal with me in case we pulled out of the trap.”