Free Touched With Sight by Nenia Campbell

Her muscles strained and she felt her body weight shift, but it was as if she had done nothing at all.
    He pulled her inside with him, and the magic tickled her skin unpleasantly, raising the small hairs as if  she'd stepped into a field of static electricity. Here, in this small enclosed space, his aura was overpowering. She could scarcely breathe, the stench of ozone was suffocating.
    “ Let go of me,” she said.
    He pressed a cool finger against her lips.
    “Enough. You wouldn't want to wake your brother, would you?”
    Catherine froze. In spite of herself, she hazarded a glance at the door.
    “He's only thirteen, you son of a bitch.”
    His fingers were toying with the straps of her tank top.
    “Then I suggest you shut your mouth and keep your hands where I can see them.”
    She gave him a flat, unimpressed look.
    “That means 'hands,'” he added. “If you attempt to Change or run away, I will deal with you very harshly. After I deal with your family first.”
    “ Fine,” she said coldly. “Whatever you want.”
    She figured whatever he was planning for her, it couldn't possibly be worse than torture. He thought he was intimidating—but he had nothing on the males of her kind, especially the wolves. His hands slid down her arms to latch firmly around her wrists, which he held at her side.
    “Anything?”
    Let go of me , she urged him silently. Just for one second. Let down your guard. I'll tear you apart.
    She could have broken free from him, easily, but there didn't seem to be much point.
    Not yet.
    She could bide her time with the best of them.
    Keeping her face empty, blank, she returned his gaze levelly.
    “ What if I want you?” the witch persisted.
    This illicit confession should have startled her, but it didn't. She would have to be blind to miss the way he looked at her. The way he had touched her as she slept. She'd heard of witches who were sexually attracted to shape-shifters. They tended to be part of groups that eroticized pain and death.
    Catherine set her jaw, refusing to betray her thoughts. If this witch really was a Council member, as he claimed, that spelled out scandal, and it wouldn't do to let him know that she'd come to the same conclusion as he had, lest he take comprehension for agreement.
    “ Me,” she said flatly.
    “ Don't misunderstand,” he said coolly. “I feel no affection for your kind.”
    “ Of course not,” she said. “You just want to fuck me.”
    She expected him to flinch. But beneath the facade of prissy official was a core of solid steel. The witch continued to meet her eyes until she was almost tempted to look away. She didn't, though. “That's why you're here?” When no answer was forthcoming, she prompted, “Witch?”
    “No. I require you for other things. Infiltration. This artifact.”
    “ So you thought you could shit and eat at the same time. How disgustingly convenient.”
    She had never bought into the purity myth, of the idea that a woman was only as valuable as her innocence was intact. She might have even considered accepting the offer if she was sure it would really prove an end to her problems. But it wouldn't. Catherine was sure it wouldn't.
    If she did sleep with him, one of two things would happen. He would realize it was a mistake, and allow her to disappear in order to keep his secret. Or, he would act as if he owned her, and make her life a different sort of hell. Neither of which she wanted.
    And then there was the fact that he had fucking sneaked into her bedroom in the middle of the night to watch her sleep—and then threatened her little brother .
    Her expression must not have been flattering. His eyes narrowed.
    “That isn't an answer,” he said, in a tone that made her certain her decision was the right one.
    “ Fuck off,” she said, and while her tone was pleasant, she spoke it through clenched teeth.
    The witch's lip curled a little. As if he found her basely amusing. But she remembered his eyes in the gully and thought