Free Desires of the Otherworld 2: Darkest Hunger by Aline Hunter

clearing her throat, she swallowed slowly. “You have to promise not to speak the words to the Fates that bind us to each other.”
    He chuckled. “The words are only one half of the process, little love. When we merge our bodies, it will cement the deal regardless.”
    “That’s the second condition.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “No matter what happens, I want you to promise that we won’t make love.”
    “Willow.” He shook his head, readying to speak, when she stopped him with a finger across his soft lips.
    “Those are my conditions. You can have part of me or none of me at all.”
    Sweet Heaven . Hearing herself speak those words to her Chosen caused her entire body to grow hot.
    A brief hesitation, then he nodded. “I agree to your conditions, but with one stipulation.” His playful smile gave life to butterflies in her stomach, causing her sex to clench. “I am only bound to my word until you tell me otherwise. After that, anything goes.”
    “That isn’t going to happen,” she said quietly, huskily, and bowed her head. “If that’s what you’re hoping for, you might as well save yourself the time and the effort.”
    He didn’t argue. Wrapping his hands around her arms, he helped her stand. He guided her back to the mounts grazing on foliage, lifted her, and waited until she was settled before he climbed into his own saddle.
    When he was situated he turned around, grinned knowingly, and warned, “It’s going to happen, love. But don’t worry. I’ll be more than willing to give you what you need. All you have to do is open that beautiful little mouth and ask.”
    She refrained from snipping back at him. Guiding her nightmare on the path he chose, she forced herself to relax in the saddle. If her body was already betraying her so easily, her voice would certainly do the same. Her skin quivered as the cool night air brushed against her bare arms. She used the discomfort to her advantage, refusing to reach for the jacket in the nearby saddlebag. Inflicting pain with the aid of the collar around her throat wasn’t done to cause harm as Bridon believed. It was to distract her traitorous body from thoughts of the vampire she couldn’t stop staring at.
    She almost reached for the collar as her desire increased. Then she remembered the outcome of such a thing and focused on the cold bite of the wind as it filtered through her clothing. It stung her face and hands, making her fingers grow numb. Soon, she told herself, striving for patience. When they arrived at their destination, Bridon would ease this insufferable ache in her body, and she would welcome his advances.
    It wasn’t as if she had a choice in the matter.
    She gazed up at the growing moon, resentful of the glowing time bomb.
    The final days of the lunar cycle were difficult on a Lycae—especially those unmated. Males of her race simply bedded down with widows or village whores, easing their baser needs without fear of reprimand or recrimination. But females, especially those born to important families, were not allowed such accommodations.
    From the moment she came into puberty, she was provided with a cell in the basement of Norvallen Hall to prevent the powerful rays of the full moon from touching any inch of her skin. The heat of the moon was just that for Wolven kind—a mating heat. The lust was undeniable, growing stronger and more volatile until the full moon crested. After that, no Lycae could control the need. It was instinctual, primal, and all consuming.
    Willow peered through her lashes at Bridon’s broad back. She was facing such a time with the male she desired beyond all reason. With each hour that passed, the craving inside her continued to grow.
    She gazed down at her hand and focused on the blue-hued light shining against her skin.
    It wouldn’t matter that Bridon was the enemy or that she had been instructed by her father to never allow such a union to pass. Following orders of her alpha was one thing, but