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“That when I… when a female doe, um… wags…”

His brows raise. He turns to share a look with Gideon.

Gideon shrugs. “She is reading smut,” he says bluntly. “Do not fall for the cover. The Art of Flower Arranging dust jacket has been slipped over to disguise what it really is. I suspect it came from Persa. Not the flower arranging—the smut in case that was confusing. Seven’s sister is shameless and has an entire collection of them.”

“Gideon! I thought you were polite!”

Nox looks between me and the book—which I’m now clutching protectively to my chest—and plucks it from my hand.

“Nox!”

“Hmmm,” he says, skimming down the page as I leap to my feet and make a grab for it. He holds it out of reach, taking his time reading it—damn the tall male. He suddenly snaps the book shut and directs a particularly wicked smirk at me.

He turns the book over in his hand, peeps under the outer dust jacket, and then tosses it to Gideon, who catches it with a scowl. “Mounted and Bred by the Stag Patrol,” he muses.

I take a hasty step back. Gods, he doesn’t need to say it out loud! “It was… um… very educational.”

“So I discovered. I might need to read it for educational purposes myself.” He prowls after me, expression predatory. “And as to your question, yes, that is exactly what it means.”

“Yes?” Goodness!

“When a doe wags her tail at a male, it signals him to rut.”

I continue to back up.

He continues to stalk me down.

“Poor Eiden was near insensible with lust watching your sweet ass and that wagging tail as you skipped joyfully over tree roots and flowers the first day you shifted. And then Gideon came next. Such a sweet doe, perfuming the air with her lust. All ripe and ready to be fucked. Ready to be mounted and bred, just like the saucy little doe in your book.”

My throat is dust-dry.

My pussy is dripping wet.

How does he set my body on fire with no more than words and a look?

I come to an abrupt stop when I bump into Gideon. Nox glances at him over my shoulder. A silent communication passes between them. Before I can dart away, Gideon’s hands close over my upper arms.

My body quivers in anticipation of whatever is to come. Nox touching me, taking me finally.

And how I crave it.

“Trapped,” Nox says ominously. “Are you making a little mess, Fawn? Is your pussy getting wet?”

I whimper.

“Answer me.”

“Yes!”

He is still not touching me.

What is he waiting for?

“Lift your skirt.”

My sharp inhale is loud.

He grasps my throat, tugging me onto my tiptoes. The butterflies go wild. His head lowers, his lips a whisper beside my ear. “I don’t repeat myself, little doe. Ever.”