POV: Clara

Her lips stung from the teeth marks. Each breath she took scraped her swollen mouth raw, bloodied where he’d dug in, where she’d bitten back. The taste of his blood was thick on her tongue, copper and sharp. Not the way it should have tasted, not the way a kiss should have tasted.

But it was better than the burn still smoldering low in her gut.

Clara Reynolds hated it. Hated that her body had responded to him. Hated that the bond had damned her with every ...