Chapter 22: Mine to Mark

Danica's POV

The Shadowfang tent was canvas over a plank floor, with a bed of furs in the corner and a small iron stove ticking in the middle.

Snow had started again outside, and it muffled the camp until we could hear nothing but our own breathing.

Ansel stood in the middle of the floor with his hands loose at his sides.

"I don't know where to put them," he said.

"That's new."

"It's your turn. I wanted to be sure I did it right."

I laughed and walked up to him.

"Take your shirt off."

He did, one-handed, in one pull.

I put my palms on his chest and pushed, and he went back until his legs met the furs and sat down.

I stood over him and unbuttoned my sweater one button at a time.

He watched every one.

I felt his want through the thread, climbing slowly, and he was holding it down so hard it shook.

"You don't have to be careful," I said.

"I know."

"Then why are your hands in fists?"

"Because if I open them I'll take you apart."

"Good," I said. "Do it later."

I let the sweater fall, and my bra after it, and I stepped between his knees.

His hands came up, shaking, and I caught his wrists in mine and set them on the furs beside him.

"Stay."

"Danica."

"I'm the strongest wolf in the Gathering, Ansel. Stay there."

He swallowed, and his head tipped back.

"Yes."

I kissed him then, long and slow, with my hands braced on his shoulders.

I bit his lower lip and he groaned.

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