And yet she had.
His tongue moved to her thigh, and she gasped—a sharp intake of breath that made his beast preen. The skin here was softer, more sensitive. He could feel her pulse jumping beneath the surface, rapid and uncertain.
“You saved me.” The words came out muffled against her flesh. “In the ceremony. When I started to lose control.”
“I called your name.”
“Youanchoredme.” He pressed his muzzle harder against her leg, breathing her in. “The beast wanted Xar’s blood. Wanted to tear him apart in front of everyone. But you called me back.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Is that why you brought me here? To reward me for being useful?”
The bitterness in her voice made him lift his head. His eyes found hers—still glowing, he knew, still showing the feral edge that hadn’t quite faded—and something twisted in his chest at what he saw there.
Fear. Not of him. Of what this meant. What they were becoming.
“I brought you here because I need you.” The admission cost him everything. Every wall. Every defense. Every careful pretense of control. “I need your scent and your presence and the way you make the madness quiet. I need you close enough to touch when the energy gets too loud. I need—”
He stopped. Swallowed. Forced himself to finish.
“I needyou, Elsa. Not your usefulness. Not your scent.You.”
Her eyes went wide. Glistening with something that might have been tears.
“You’re my captor.” The words came out cracked. “You collared me. Leashed me. Paraded me in front of your court like property.”
“Yes.”
“You keep me prisoner because I happen to smell like something sacred to your people.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re telling me youneedme?”
“Yes.” He lowered his head, pressing his muzzle to her stomach again. Breathing her in. “I know what I am. What I’ve done. What this makes me.”
Monster. Captor. The creature from her nightmares.
“But I can’t let you go.” The confession scraped out of him, raw and ugly. “Ican’t. The beast won’t allow it. The bond won’t allow it. And even without those—” His claws flexed against the furs beside her. “Even without those, I don’t think I could survive losing you now.”
Silence.
She didn’t push him away. Didn’t scream. Didn’t do any of the things a sane human should do when a monster confessed his obsession.
Instead, something shifted in her scent.
Subtle at first—a warming beneath the Frosted Tears sweetness, a deepening that made his beast go absolutely still.Then stronger, richer, blooming from between her thighs with an intensity that hit him like a physical blow.
Arousal.
His muzzle lifted from her stomach, nostrils flaring as he chased that new thread of scent. She wasrespondingto him. Not with fear or resignation or the practical acceptance she’d shown before. Withwant.
“Elsa.” Her name came out fractured. A warning. A plea.
Her fingers tightened in his fur, and she didn’t answer with words. Instead, her thighs parted—just slightly, just enough—and the full force of her arousal crashed through his senses like a wave.
Sweet. Heady.Divine.
The beast didn’t ask permission.