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I lift a shoulder. “And?”

He grimaces, and I feel our different worlds colliding. Witches tend to be very sex positive. We like the act of coming together, it goes hand in hand with our magic, and it’s part of our ethos to celebrate it. It’s even incorporated into some of our rituals, such as Beltane.

Shifters, on the other hand, seem a bit more territorial about who they fuck and how they flaunt it.

Kane shakes his head and pulls me aside. I sway a little at the action, and the lycanthrope frowns. “You okay, Bowers?”

“What? Me?” I point to myself. “I’mfine.”

Kane scrutinizes me for another second, then moves on. “I wanted to apologize to you again. For not helping you when your familiar was hurt.”

Bile rises at the memory. Don’t want to talk about this. Don’t want to remember that night.

I have another swallow of my drink.

“I should’ve ignored my alpha’s orders,” he continues. “I could…hear the screams. I knew something was happening. All the shifters out there could.” Kane’s throat bobs, and he ducks his head, toeing a clump of sand. “I had admitted I liked you, and I didn’t help. I didn’t take care of you as I should’ve.”

“I don’twantto be taken care of.” If I did, I would be sitting prettily in Memnon’s home, waiting on him to arrive.

Kane’s and my true differences creep up on me then. How we view intimacy, how we view relationships. A casual fling with Kane might’ve worked out, but anything more would’ve stifled me.

I don’t answer to anyone, not even Memnon. Memnon knows that. Fuck, Memnonlikesthat aspect of me. He’s been all too eager to goad me into my own power.

I drink down a good portion of my alcohol then, wanting to be anywhere other than right here in this conversation with Kane.

“Selene, are you listening?” Kane says.

I glance up too quickly from my drink, realizing the shifter has been talking. Shit, maybe he has been asking me about Nero.

I sway a little, and my drink slips from my hands, the last of it spilling onto the sand.

Kane frowns, eyeing me up and down. “How drunk are you?”

I shake my head, swaying more as I reach down to grab my empty cup. “I’m not drunk. I haven’t even had one full glass.”

The lycanthrope’s brow furrows. He steps in close and leans into my neck, breathing me in.

“Kane,” I say, pushing him back.

“You smell off.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I say, laughing semihysterically. “You don’t know me well enough to know what I smell like.”

Behind us, one of the other shifters whistles and gestures that they’re getting ready to leave.

Kane nods to the shifter, then his gaze flicks over me. “My pack is getting ready to leave. I want you to come with us.” Though it’s a suggestion, there’s a thread of his power in hisvoice. I’m not a lycanthrope, but even I am compelled by the order in it.

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Are you trying to assert yourdominanceover me?” I say skeptically, a wisp of anger rising in me.

His features harden. “Yes,” he says. “And you can like it or not, but, Selene, I’m not backing down on this. The last time I let you go, both you and your familiar got hurt. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

I stare at him for a moment. “This is all because Ismellfunny?”

He presses his lips together, then slightly dips his head.Yes.

I want to laugh; the whole situation is beyond absurd. But the man is obviously serious, and I have no doubt he means what he says.

Which means I have three options: One, go along with what he says like a good little witch. Two, stand my ground and go toe-to-toe with an alpha werewolf. Or three, run.