The Protector (Fire's Edge #4) - Abigail Owen Page 0,6

like?

Not the first time she’d wondered.

“Are you okay?” he husked.

“Fine.” Or she would be as soon as she could get away from him.

Her wound wasn’t her biggest concern right now. All shifters had accelerated healing, part of what allowed them to live so long. By the time Drake gave the all clear, she wouldn’t be lying about that.

A low grunt told her Levi didn’t believe her anyway, but for once he didn’t push her. After a pause, his arm relaxed against her and he uncurled his fisted hand, his fingers flattening against her belly.

“Stay where you are,” Drake ordered. He must still be dragon to be communicating telepathically. Where was he anyway? “I’m going to check whether they’ve gone.”

Against her, Levi’s body eased infinitesimally. She wouldn’t have known if she wasn’t plastered against him. Stiffening, she went to sit away from him, but he tightened his grip. “Hold still.”

He was right. Until Drake gave the okay, she should hold exactly as she was.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, lips still at her ear, breath tickling. His fingers, which she was horribly aware of, brushed against her lightly. She might as well have been naked the effect that small touch had, sending electric sparks of need hissing through her blood.

“Don’t,” she warned, voice low.

The fingers stopped and he stiffened against her, muscles going rigid.

Guilt, an emotion that had only grown over the years of keeping this man at a distance, overrode common sense. “I’m ticklish,” she lied.

“Since when?”

“You’ve never touched me there, so you wouldn’t have known.” She winced. Wrong choice of words. Way too much innuendo for comfort. Change of subject time. “You know, if you hadn’t been distracting me, that dragon wouldn’t have got so close without me sensing him.”

“I wasn’t distracting you. I was just flying next to you.”

“Go fly next to someone else.”

“Back to the babysitting thing, are we?”

She still didn’t want to talk about that. Lyndi snapped her teeth together, catching her lip, and the metallic taste of blood hit her tongue.

“You know, I try to protect everyone on this team,” he pointed out, with a lingering hint of a chuckle. “It’s my job as beta.”

She should gratefully accept the reprieve and keep her mouth shut. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Not at you.”

“At what, then?”

Levi’s arm tightened around her. “I’m laughing at my own stupidity.”

“Which means what exactly?”

“Apparently no good deed goes unpunished when it comes to you,” he accused. “I’m trying to remind myself of that.”

“I don’t need your good deeds, either.”

A hiss escaped him. A sound of such frustration, so unlike Levi, that she tried to scoot forward slightly only to come up against the iron band of his arm.

“What do you need then?” he asked. “Because I can smell it all over you. Your need…it’s torture.”

Lyndi blinked as his words sank in, blindingly grateful the intimidating, gorgeous, massive dragon surrounding her couldn’t see her face. Did he really not know? After all these years trying to keep it in check, he’d never once sensed it before now?

More importantly, was it good torture or bad torture? Because for her, he was both.

He pulled her even closer and everything inside Lyndi froze at the evidence of her effect on him.

No.

Because if he wanted her, then… Fuck. Panic swam through her blood, bitter and sharp. Him not wanting her was what she’d clung to so that she wouldn’t act on the overwhelming need to claim him as her own.

She steeled herself to do the right thing, to shut this down. So much harder to do—fighting him as well as herself. If she was only denying herself, that was one thing. She opened her mouth but the wrong words popped out anyway. “You’re not the only one who—”

“Quiet.” Drake’s command was loud enough in her mind to make her wince.

Lyndi mashed her lips together. Oh gods. What did I just say?

Think, Lyndi. Because no doubt he’d ask. It could be anything, though. He wasn’t the only one who needed to protect her. Or who had responsibilities.

Except the door was open now. The one she tried to pretend wasn’t there even as she fought to keep it locked. A glimpse of what she’d been blind to, and it hurt even worse to keep it closed.

Every breath, hers and his, turned into a silent, incremental torture, the heat sparking in her making each tiny sensation sink into her then spread out, building into a delicious ache, upping her tension, and damn if she didn’t want to creep her hand into her