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Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

I go absolutely still as Kane sniffs me curiously. His snout moves to my neck, and I feel his teeth graze my skin. I go very, very still.

“Please don’t bite me,” I whisper.

Sybil might’ve been blasé about it, but I don’t have any interest in being a werewolf.

Kane pauses, then breathes my scent in once more, his tongue licking the flesh before his teeth graze it again, this time more deliberately, like he’s considering the notion.

I lift my hand, readying a spell to push him away, when I see his pelt ripple. In the next instant, his form shifts, his fur receding into his skin as his torso broadens. His translucent magic hovers around him as he transforms.

In less than a minute, the shift is complete, and the wolf is gone. In its place is a very sweaty, very naked man, his heavily muscled body pressed to mine, his face buried against my neck.

He takes deep, heaving breaths as he recovers from the shift.

Unfortunately, all I notice is how fucking good he feels against me. Too good. I reach for him, needing more contact. Myprior worries are distant things. Inconsequential, really. This is Kane. I like Kane. I wouldn’t mind kissing Kane.

I drag him onto me, and he doesn’t fight it. He shifts himself so his hips are settled between mine, pinning me in place, and his hand begins to languidly glide up and down the side of my torso, catching on my satin dress.

The lycan draws in a deep breath, then groans, leaning his forehead against my neck. “Fuck. You’ve had witch’s brew, haven’t you?” Kane’s voice is deeper than usual, as though his wolf is barely banked.

“Mmm.” I writhe a little against Kane. His body feels different than what I expected—his hair less coarse, his sweat-slicked skin less scarred. It throws me for a moment.

“You shouldn’t be on lycanthrope territory,” he says.

“I tried to leave. You wouldn’t let me.”

He huffs out a strained laugh. “Yeah, well, my wolf likes you, and he has fewer reservations about making that clear.” He laughs again, then touches the side of my face. “I’ve been worried about you. You okay?”

I nod, then shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about that.” I can barelythinkover this driving need.

I feel Kane’s cock trapped between us, and though he’s acting gentle and concerned, his body is taut with arousal. I grind against him, causing the shifter to groan.

“Fuck, Selene,” he hisses out, jerking his hips out of reach. “Please tell me you wanted to find me.”

“No,” I say, kissing the underside of his jaw and continuing to rub myself against him. “I had plans.”

He growls at that, and the wolf is wholly in his voice when he says, “Seems to me like you’re making yourself new ones.”

With that, he finds my lips and kisses me.

Just like the last time I kissed Kane, it feels wrong. All wrong. Because I called out to another man, because I stumbledunwillingly into this situation, because it’s the Sacred Seven and Kane’s not in full control of his magic, and I don’t want to get bitten. But most of all, becauseKane isn’t Memnon.

I groan at the realization.

“I smell your need,” Kane breathes against my lips, mistaking the sound for something more carnal. His mouth returns to mine, and he deepens the kiss, grinding himself against me, his hard cock rubbing against me through the thin fabric of my dress. I gasp into his mouth as sensation floods me, my hands moving to grip his hips. And yet?—

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The wrongness is screaming at me and cutting through my arousal.

“Wait,” I say, breaking off the kiss, a note of panic entering my voice. My body is weeping at me for stopping, and I have to fight the urge to give in again. I place a hand against Kane’s chest. “Stop.” I force the word out, even as my traitorous hips grind against his.

Another growl rumbles low in Kane’s throat, his instincts clearly not liking my words. “Stop?” he says. He dips his nose to my neck and breathes in. “Your body, your very scent itself is telling me to fuck you. You’re dripping in arousal.”

I pinch my eyes shut. “I know, but…” I draw in a lungful of air and force my limbs to untangle themselves from his. “I can’t do this.”

I can’t. The longer I lie here, the more obvious that becomes.