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Eyes misted, a tight jaw, and a shallow breath.

Hair falling over her temple, and mussed, her mouth still swollen from his last kiss, and her skin flushed from adrenaline and wine.

She decided to back off a little for now until she understood the claiming aspect.

She’d opt for light and fun when things got heavy.

What she wouldn’t do again, what she couldn’t afford, was giving her heart to a man who wasn’t ready to respect it and include her in his decision-making.

A serious relationship with Xander at this stage also threw out too many unknowns.

Especially given the forbidden rules held by the Bianchi clan.

Savvine smoothed a smile despite the ache twisting through her ribs.

Then she turned and strode back into the mess, steady and in control, like nothing was wrong.

The thrum of music and chatter enveloped her, and she drifted to the bar, unable to face Xander yet, needing liquid courage first.

Its marble surface was lit in a soft amber glow, and the bottles behind the glass were stacked like jewels.

A few Sombra crew members clustered at the other end, deep in celebration. She kept her head down and ordered a scotch, needing its burn to soothe her angst.

‘Neat,’ she said. ‘No ice.’

She took her drink to the bar’s edge and stood, sipping, breathing even slower, and letting her heart’s ache ease, allowing her pain to fade.

Still, her eyes betrayed her. They strayed to where he sat as if he were her magnetic north.

He was laughing at something Zev said, one arm draped over the back of a chair, his posture loose but lethal.

His amethyst hair tousled from the heat of battle, a lock fallen onto his forehead.

Fokk, he was handsome.

However, Xander Roman was no playboy.

He was all man formed from storms and secrets: a myth, a rebel even, with a lycan spirit.

He was difficult. Deep. Enthralling,naam, intriguing, attractive, and lover like no other.

He made entire rooms spin by entering them; the kind of man who scorched and burned his way through the galaxy.

At the same time, he was also maddening with his archaic thinking about knotting, claiming, and mating.

That was the kicker.

She wanted more, and she had to admit that his marking her had turned her on and set her aflame.

However, she wasn’t sure she was ready for all he had declared to his pack.

Without warning, his mesmerizing violet-gold eyes found her. They locked onto her with pinpoint accuracy like a missile tracking its target.

He surged to his feet and strode toward her.

She swallowed the dregs of her drink and straightened as he neared, every nerve taut.

He reached her, eyes still molten, reaching for her, pulling her closer, sending shards of unbidden desire through her.