Once wasn't enough. The black wolf had a beast's greed, and spending the rest of the night with Alice left him insatiable. The urge to catch her neck and fuck her raw thinned his control to nothing. Anger throbbed in its place whenever his nose caught the lingering scent of the other woman on her skin. She wasn't his.

The thought made his teeth ache. So did the hunger to rip into any rival, an urge deeper than bloodlust. A human was laughably helpless against his jaws. Easy to catch and choke, easy to bleed out. But killing wouldn't do any good. He knew too much about the world and had seen love used as a leash before. Dead or alive, the woman had Alice's heart—and it made him the helpless one.

He hated it.

In the grey light of dawn, she stirred beside him. One hand brushed his shoulder, and surprise slid into her scent. So did guilt.

His spit thickened in his mouth while he got out of bed, part of the instinct to fight. But there was nothing to do except pull on jeans and a shirt. Tie his boots and put on a coat against the steady rain outside. Meaningless, human things that felt like a snare. The constraints of being a man further tightened when she met him by the front door.

Uncertainty filled her smile. "Do you want breakfast?"

Food? All he wanted was to bend her over and push that robe up past her hips. He glanced through the window, looking for a task to keep him away. "Need to work on the shed. The branches resting on it will rub off the roof in a few years."

Then he went outside. The rain didn't cool his lust, and the green sting of cut fir branches didn't erase her scent. He kept working despite inflamed senses. Distant machinery—probably humans cleaning up the landslide—rumbled through his ears and down into his bones. The minerals in the rainwater tasted bitter whenever a drop made it into his mouth. The wet ends of his hair prickled at the back of his neck, reminding him of Alice's offer to cut it. Growling under his breath, he scratched at the skin there. The itching grew worse. Then he thought of how soothing her fingers had felt while slipping up past his shoulders in a brief caress. Fuck. He was already obsessed with her touch.

He finished the job barely in control. Instinct warred with itself: either leave long enough to kill until his rage had gone, or go back inside and trust her with bringing a blade close to his neck. He knew which he craved more, and growled again before approaching the cabin.

The kitchen breathed warmth and bread yeast and Alice's own clean scent as he sat at the table. His shoulders bunched against the irritation of clothes. His teeth throbbed with each word. "Cut it."

She had looked away from the bowl of dough to watch him in silence. Now defiance flared in her expression. "I will, if you explain why you're angry about last night."

Words. He had forgotten how humans and witches depended upon them for everything. "Never said I was."

"You don't have to say it. I can see it in your face."

He gave her his full glare, but her anger already tempered his. Even though she knew what he could do, she stared back, refusing to be cowed. Confusion and hurt fought in her eyes. She didn't understand why he'd left her alone this morning. Didn't understand it and didn't like it.

After a heartbeat of silence, he said, "The woman you came here with."

Surprise slid into her scent. Her voice turned careful. "Magdalene."

His wanted to twist into a snarl at the name. "You think she's coming back?"

"There's no question about it. I always panic when she leaves, but she also has patterns she can't break away from. One of them is needing me." Alice kept herself stiff and still as if trying to become invisible, but the bitterness in her scent wasn't guilt. It was shame. "That's why we're still together. She has someone who will never grow tired enough to walk away, and I have someone who will never leave me. Not as long as I give her what she wants."

"And what is that?"

Her full lips tightened into an unhappy smile. "A second heart that will beat in place of her own. Those are her words, not mine. She once wrote a prose piece about it in our early days together. Just for me. I was silly enough to think it romantic instead of a life sentence."

Then she looked away from him, looked down at her hands and turned back to the sink as if remembering they were still covered in dough. She scrubbed them with short, rough movements and added, "So, why are you angry?"

"I'm getting to that." It wasn't an answer and he knew it. But he still circled around the fact that Alice understood the trap she was in. She knew a need for control kept the woman loyal to her, nothing else, and considered it a fair price to pay to avoid abandonment.

Maybe he could show her there were other ways to live. Maybe he could show her that she could keep her heart and still be loved.

They weren't through flashing teeth at each other, though. If she wanted to be fucked as a way to feel free, that was one thing. But if she wanted revenge for being left on her own, then she'd sleep alone tonight. He wouldn't be a pawn in a game between two lovers trying to hurt each other. He was obsessed with her, not stupid.

Her patience had returned. She put the bread by the fireplace and cleaned the counter with her back to him while he watched from the table. Then she reached behind to untie her apron. He found himself rising to catch her fingers. They were cold from the water, but her cheeks flushed as his mouth brushed her ear. His frustration thickened into a base hunger, and he leaned in enough to pin her against the counter. "How are you going to use last night against her?"

Lust pulsed in her scent while her face tilted toward his. He wasn't far behind; a few more moments of feeling her body and he'd have to reach down and readjust his cock. Her answer sounded breathless. "I don't understand."

He undid her apron and let it drop. Then he caught the loose neck of her sweater and pulled it down past her shoulder, remembering where he'd bitten her. His teeth had left bruises too dark and big to hide. She arched, as if expecting to feel his mouth again, but some of his anger had returned. "Will you tell her how you fucked a man? Let him sleep on her side of the bed?"

Her shock overwhelmed his nose as she twisted toward him. "No. Of course not."

"Because of her sensitive feelings?"

Finally, it happened. Her spine stiffened at his goading tone, and she gave him a glare that held the intensity of a wolf's, unleashing herself from all fear. The surprise had faded from her scent, and now she was insulted by the suggestion. Insulted that he thought so low of her.

She faced him with a raised chin, stunning in her rage. "Because that's not why I did it. I know how long cruelty lingers. I've lived with Magdalene for five years now, and she's a master at it. To use you as a revenge fuck would mean hurting you like I've hurt, and I won't do that. You'll just have to either believe me or not."

Her eyes dared him to challenge the truth of the words.

Even though her scent was clean with honesty, he half wanted to, just to see if she would bite him next. A selfish impulse on his end, one to ignore. He could feel her teeth another time. Right now, she shook with the effort of defending herself. It would be heartless to push her further.

Before he could glance away, she added, "Do you still want that haircut?"

No going back if he said yes. This girl had already slipped into his heart and would stay there for the rest of his existence. It was useless to pretend otherwise. Still. This would be different than protecting her from old fears or knowing what she tasted like. This would mean trusting her with one of the few pieces of his past that had marked him beyond the grave.

There wasn't a scar on his throat to show where it had been slit as part of casting the curse, but he remembered the gleam of the blade. Even though the pain had been a shock and choking on his blood had made him panic, the sense of helplessness had been the true agony. He never let anything near his throat.

But now... he resisted glancing at Alice's hands even as his mind sank into the memory of her gentle touch while he'd been injured. How calming her fingers had felt against his fur.

Finally, he nodded.

The anger left her face while she looked toward the window. "Okay. The light is best here in the kitchen. Sit down and take off your coat and shirt if you don't want hair to get caught in your collar."

The awareness of what was about to happen only made his neck itch worse, and he scowled at his boots while resettling at the table. His feet didn't want to keep still. Look at him, squirming like a nervous pup. Anyone who remembered his reputation of terrorizing the world would have laughed.

Alice had left for a comb and scissors and now returned. The glimmers of her inner fire were gone, and she studied his hair with her usual quietness. He watched her with suspicion, ready to end things the moment she smiled at his nerves. Without another word, she began. She moved with care and confidence, guiding him to tilt his head this way or that with brief touches. It was clear she knew what to do, but his shoulders twitched every time the scissors snipped. Hair fell to the floor, more matted than he'd expected. Only the steadiness of her hands and the nearness of her warmth kept him in the chair.

Eventually, she circled around to the back of his neck. The scissors snipped a few times before she pulled away. Maybe she was done. He hoped so. Then she stepped in close, so close that her tits brushed his shoulders. He froze as she backed off and brushed stray hairs from his skin with a towel. Any doubt about whether it'd been an accident vanished when she did it again. Her nipples had hardened through her sweater. He started to move until she stopped him with a flash of the scissors. Despite his short growl, her expression remained pleasant and distant.

Impossible to believe, but she wanted to stoke his lust. He knew why; her hunger rose alongside his. Last night hadn't been enough for her either. She wanted more and was determined to get it. He didn't know whether to snarl in irritation or laugh at her cheek.

Her gaze remained intent when she faced him and ran fingers through his hair. The low neck of her sweater gaped at him, revealing one of the suck marks he'd left on her tits. "Not too bad. How does it feel?"

His blood seethed while he breathed in the heat from her skin. Just as he leaned closer to grab her sweater and rip it in half, her hands moved to his jaw instead. Mischief sparked in her eyes while she combed through his beard until she reached his throat. "I could trim this up as well. But you probably don't like blades near your neck, either."

Too much. He caught her wrists and pulled her close with all of his hunter's quickness. It startled her, and her gasp left her nipples brushing against him again. His voice thickened as he said, "Why are you doing this?"

Her playfulness faded. She looked almost sad for him. "You're not used to someone being nice, are you?"

Unwilling to play any more games, he brought her face within inches of his and growled. "Why?"

Her pupils dilated, but not with fear. She looked like she wanted to touch his teeth. "Why did you stay and sleep with me the night I panicked over being left alone?"

"I didn't like the smell of your fear."

She met his gaze with the same steadiness as before, this time without challenge. Then she murmured, "Well, I don't like knowing that you live neglected and half-starved."

He studied her, baffled by how much she trusted him. "You're not afraid. You're teasing me."

Her fingers returned to his jaw. Hard to tell which throbbed harder, his heart or his cock.

She didn't notice, once more scrutinizing his face. "I'm not saying I'd shave this off or give it a silly shape. It'll just look neat and groomed."

Fuck it. He was already addicted to her touch, and the frustration of being close to her was better than the sting of old memories. When he sat back in the chair, she picked up the comb and scissors again.

He refused to flinch while she trimmed his beard, but she seemed to sense how hard this was for him. No more playful brushes, no more delays. She moved swift and sure, setting aside the scissors as soon as possible. The air between them felt raw as she said, "There. Not so bad, was it?"

The question was hardly out of her mouth before he pulled her in for a rough kiss, nipping her lower lip with his teeth. He caught the back of her neck to keep her close, marveling at how soft her skin felt. Eagerness filled her movements while she tugged his undershirt loose and unbuckled his belt. His hands slid down to her waist, ready to pull her onto his lap.

"Wait," she gasped, wriggling free.

His cock raged at the idea of stopping, but then she traced its shape beneath his jeans while sinking to her knees. Her smile told him what she had in mind. His balls tightened. How many more times could she surprise him?

Goddamn, she was good. All hesitation and caution disappeared from her, first from her mouth and then from her scent. He remained aware enough to hold back some of the power in his hips, but her movements were heedless and unrestrained. Feral. Her hands clung to him, nails digging in like he'd disappear, but her tongue felt hot and sweet. Adoring. His hunger intensified into something nameless, and he snarled fingers into her hair to keep her close.

She had him panting after he finished. When he swore out loud, she looked up without shame, flushed and disheveled. Her eyes were as wild as he felt. Then she laughed, a sound of pure joy, and his heart clenched at seeing her free of fear.

He traced the pulse in her throat, trying to sound offhand even though his breath felt shallow. "Won't let you rest until you finish cleaning me up."

As he'd hoped, she giggled again. It hit him as deeply as her mouth, and his fingers returned to her hair, tangling in the strands. With a sigh, he let himself relax, something he never did while as a man. Now, though, all instincts fell quiet. Satisfied. Confident in one truth.

She trusted him, and he trusted her.