to be in a whole other country, part of a whole other pride—or whatever type of shifter group your soon-to-be mate belongs to—and you’ll be bound to someone you obviously don’t care for. At least enjoy what time you have here.”
“What, you offering me one last night of fun before I enter into a mating? Yeah, I’ve heard you’re good at those,” she said a little bitterly. “Also heard you often bring a friend to play. Does that mean you’re going to invite another guy to fuck—” She cut off as he gripped her chin.
“There won’t be a threesome,” Dominic growled as a dark, unfamiliar emotion flared inside him. “There’ll only be you and me. I won’t share you.”
“You can’t share what you don’t have.”
“Oh, I will have you, Mila.” He nipped her lower lip. “Be honest. It’s not that I want sex with no ties that bothers you. It’s that you think you’d be nothing more than a faceless fuck. You’re wrong in thinking that, Mila. No woman has ever been a faceless fuck to me. Just because I didn’t offer any of them a relationship doesn’t mean I didn’t see them as people; it doesn’t mean I didn’t respect them.”
“I don’t—”
“There are many reasons why I want you—none of which I’ll say aloud because, as I said before, you’ll only think I’m feeding you compliments to weaken your resolve. But I will say this: no one has ever done what you did tonight.”
She swallowed. “What’s that?”
“Made me feel possessive.” Dominic swooped down and took her mouth again, letting her taste that possessiveness. He consumed her with a hunger that demanded to be sated, and he knew there’d be no ignoring it. He sucked on her lower lip, barely resisting the urge to give it a sharp bite. “Come with me.”
She shook her head. “You may have been lying when you said ‘one taste,’ but I wasn’t.” She shoved him back a step, satisfied by the surprise on his face. Yeah, people tended to underestimate her physical strength. Slipping from between him and the wall, she jabbed a finger at him. “You need to do us both a favor and let this go now. I’m not looking for one last crazy night before I commit.”
His legs ate up the space between them yet again. “What are you looking for, Mila?” he asked, his voice soft but serious. “Because no matter what you say, I genuinely don’t think it’s an arranged mating.”
Mila fisted her hands. “Just keep your distance, GQ.”
He looked about to argue with her, but then one of the club’s waitresses called out his name. Mila used the distraction to her advantage and headed straight to the greenroom on shaky legs. Inside, she shoved on her jacket so roughly, she almost knocked over the freestanding lamp. All the while, she muttered about how Archie was right—dominant male wolves were more trouble than they were worth.
Hearing the greenroom door close behind her, Mila rolled her eyes. Fucking GQ just had to follow—
“Don’t move.”
Mila froze. That wasn’t GQ’s voice. No, it was a woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. Cold. Despite the warning, Mila would have whirled on the spot if it hadn’t been for the snick of a gun. Her cat shot to her feet with a feral hiss, eager to strike at the intruder.
“Oh, this was almost too easy,” said the stranger. “Cat shifters are supposed to be tough to sneak up on.”
“I heard you. I just figured you were someone else.” Thanks to Dominic, she’d been both frazzled and distracted. She took in a long breath and smelled . . . jackal. She’d never liked those little bastards.
Looking into the glass of a framed wall poster, Mila caught the reflection of the woman behind her. Average height. Curvy. Red hair. Pale skin. Gray-blue eyes. Holding a whopper of a freaking handgun with a silencer attached to the barrel—a gun that was pointed right at the back of Mila’s head.
Her heart jumped just as her inner cat hissed again and lunged for freedom, wanting at the bitch. And Mila had no doubt that her cat could take their foe on. The jackal was right to use a gun and attack from a distance. Mila’s kind didn’t fight fair or easy, and their inner felines were positively merciless. They might be only slightly bigger than a domestic house cat, but they were also, pound for pound, one of the strongest breeds of shifter. And they always went for the face.
“You’re a cool