Page 193 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

When I still hesitated, Nelly tugged my hand lower, palm grazing over her hard nipple. Unrelenting waves of wanting slammed into me, eroding the shore I’d been standing on and the solidness of equations that got me through life.

Over her heart.

My fingers wrapped around her waist, and I lifted her into the air. Her long, dancer legs wrapped around me, and I repositioned my grip beneath her ass, hoisting her slightly higher so that I could dip my head down and reach my target.

At first, I simply pressed my face into that soft spot above her breast.

I reveled in her pheromones and softness.

I breathed her in, letting her scent fill me completely before opening my mouth to mark her. The moment my teeth met her skin, a current of electricity shot through me. Her sweet Omega taste exploded across my tongue.

This, our two bodies added together, was the only equation that mattered.

Nelly cried out, her back arching as she pressed harder against my mouth. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, anchoring herself to me as I claimed her. The mark I left would be precise.

At least, that was the plan.

But maybe plans should be broken.

Maybe some equations should be left unsolved.

I clamped down harder, letting go of logic.

When we parted, I looked at Nelly in wonderment. Why had I spent my life so wrapped up in what made sense? Why had I never embraced a little mystery?

She pulled away from me, turning slightly, nearly stumbling. I steadied her.

“Are you ready to mark us now, or do you need a minute?” This from Cooper, who held his arm out to her.

Her head tilted down, glancing at his extended wrist.

She gave a slight nod, stepping forward but wobbling dangerously on her feet.

I swooped in behind her for support. “I’ll help you, Nelly.”

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at me. “You’ve already helped me more than you could ever know. You all have.”

There was no rhyme or reason to her words. We hadn’t helped her, not really. We’d inadvertently stolen her life by signing a contract. We hadn’t given her anything either, not really. Borrowed clothes. Borrowed shoes. A broken-down, borrowed barn. Ghost, maybe. We had given her Ghost. Though my primal needs raged, I made a note to not only ask her what she meant, but to actually help her. To help her in every way we could, no matter what it cost.

Damn the accounts. Damn the finances.

As I supported her, Nelly took Cooper’s arm and lifted it to her mouth. She hesitated, then squared her shoulders, sinking her teeth into his skin. Cooper's face contorted, riding the line between pleasure and pain as Nelly's mark triggered a cascade of Alpha rut response. When she released him, a perfect crescent of teeth marks remained, red against his tan skin. Boone stepped forward next, offering his wrist with solemn reverence. Nelly took it, her movements becoming more confident as she bit down, holding for several heartbeats before releasing. Wade followed, then Wyatt, each receiving her mark with expressions of awe and gratitude.

When my turn came, I held her with one arm and lifted the other to her face.

I tried to quiet my analytical mind. I tried not to note the exact placement of her incisors as they pressed against my skin. I couldn’t. I found myself measuring and calculating. But then she bit down, and all thought dissolved into pure sensation.

The pain was sharp but fleeting, immediately radiating electric bolts of pleasure from its center point. I felt my kneesweaken, understanding now why Nelly needed support after our marks. This was more than just a physical wound.

It was a rewiring of my very being, my body and brain recognizing and accepting her as mine. As she released my wrist, our gazes crashed into each other. The mathematical precision I'd been doggedly clinging to despite my intentions crumbled entirely.

I couldn't calculate the depth of emotion in her gaze, couldn't quantify the connection that now bound us together. For perhaps the first time in my adult life, I surrendered completely to feeling without analysis. I reached out, tracing the line of her jaw with my fingertips, marveling at the softness of her skin. My hand stilled to cup her cheek as I memorized her face.

"I can’t measure this,” I whispered, the word encompassing everything I couldn't express through numbers and equations. It was one of those stupid inner thoughts I normally wouldn’t voice.

“Can’t measure what, Levi?” she asked in a small voice, golden lashes lowering and lifting in a slow blink.

“The way you make me feel,” I admitted.