Binding Ties The Sentinel Wars - Shannon K. Butcher Page 0,14

soft contours of the furniture her captors had provided. Small personal items dotted the space—gifts given to her to lull her into a sense of false peace.

They wanted her to trust them. Become one of them.

The taste of blood filled her mouth. The hair on her body stood on end, and a desperate growl surged up her throat.

She couldn’t let him know that she was capable of shifting. Not only was it forbidden to tell outsiders that her kind was regaining their powers, but a sudden shift toward her tiger form might also end up being her only hope. The advantage of surprise might be the only thing standing between her and death once the Theronai decided to break the tenuous peace between their peoples. When that happened, she’d be trapped with the enemy. Her hidden strength and speed might be her only means of escape.

She tried to fight the shift, but she’d never been in control of it. Her Slayer side had always come out to play at the worst possible moments.

“I’m not leaving until you at least tell me you’re okay. I can’t stand the thought that I upset you.” His voice was quiet, low, and sexy as hell. She could smell his scent leaking beneath the door, hear his strong heart beating on the other side of the wood.

She wanted to open it for him. Let him in. Taste him.

No. That was her animal side—instinct and emotion. She couldn’t let it take over, not when there was so much at stake. The animal in her would want to kill him or fuck him. Possibly both. She had to lean on her Theronai side now and use it to keep her from making a disastrous mistake.

All she had to do was let him see the ring-shaped birthmark on her arm, and he’d know exactly what she was. No more worries. No more hiding. He’d claim her for his own and end all the fear of being found out. As desperate as the Theronai men were for mates, they might not even care that her loyalty would always lie with her own people.

She scrambled away from the door and curled into the smallest space possible.

“I can hear you breathing, Lyka. I know you’re in there.”

She held her breath, but all it did was lock his scent inside her nose. She could feel it becoming a part of her, tempting her to just let go. Those sword-roughened hands of his would feel so good sliding over her naked skin. As tough as he was, he would be able to take it if she got a little carried away with her claws and teeth.

Just the thought made her moan.

“Lyka? Are you hurt?”

She ached. Wanted. Hungered.

This wasn’t normal for her, not even during a full moon. She was always a little more easily aroused during that time, but she’d never felt anything like this before.

This was what she’d heard her kind talk about. This was the need.

“That’s it,” he said. “I’m popping the electronic lock on your door if you don’t open it.”

She dug her claws into her palms, struggling for control. She closed her eyes to block out the moonlight. All her focus went into the pain until nothing else mattered. She let it consume her world, and reveled in the sharp sting.

Slowly her body eased and the storm passed. Her hair settled and lay flat once again. Her teeth and fingernails returned to normal.

She took deep breaths in an effort to calm her nerves. The next breath she pulled in smelled like Joseph—a combination of leather and steel, spring rain and lightning.

“You’re hurt,” he said, only this time his voice wasn’t muffled by wood. He was inside her dark suite, crouched less than two feet in front of her.

His fingers were clenched into fists, as if he had to struggle not to reach for her. The magical, iridescent necklace he wore shimmered in the moonlight bathing her suite. His gaze was on her bloody palms, and concern ridged the skin between his brows.

She looked at her hands, realizing just how deep the wounds went. “I’ll be fine in a minute. I just need to wash the blood away.”

He held out his hand. “Can I help you up?”

She looked at his wide palm, easily twice the size of hers. Scars crossed his skin as proof of the battles he’d survived. Pads of rough flesh showed evidence of his work with a sword. He didn’t reach for her or try to hurry