She ran her hand down her aching body, trying hard to concentrate on his words when she was burning from the inside out. She knelt back onto her heels, cupping her aching breasts, her fingers pressing hard against her burning nipples.

Drake swore. There were small beads of sweat on his forehead. “Damn it, Saria. Give me something to work with here.”

He took a step toward her and she willed him to continue, to take the decision from her. She eyed him hungrily. His face was carved with sensual lines, his eyes golden and hooded, glittering with stark, raw hunger. She’d driven him beyond endurance. If she touched him, his control would be gone and he would take her just the way she craved, right there on the floor, wild and uninhibited, his body pounding into hers, relieving the terrible ache. He took another step toward her with a groan of despair.

The sound echoed loudly through her mind. Drake Donovan was a man of honor. He was trying to save her from herself. He was trying to save both of them. What the hell was she doing to him? Shocked, she pressed one hand to her mouth and held the other one up to stop him. He’d done everything but pour cold water over her.

“I can do this, Drake.” Determination crept into her voice. “Just give me a minute. Tell me how to control her.”

He took a deep breath and ran his hands up and down the strong columns of his thighs as if his skin itched, or was too tight—just as hers was.

“She is you, honey,” he explained. “You’re feeling both of your needs. It doesn’t help that I’m in the room with you. If we’re mates, as both my cat and I believe, we’ve known one another in at least one past life, and we’re familiar with each other’s body. The addiction is already there. You’re fighting all of that.”

She swallowed hard. “Step out of the room. Just for a moment. Give me a moment.”

She knew he would, although she didn’t know why she trusted him so much. Or how she could behave in such a terrible wanton fashion and still look him in the eye. She was unashamed of wanting him—just ashamed of her behavior. If he would be honorable, so could she.

Drake looked at her for a long moment, his gaze hot, revealing he was skating to the very edge of his control before he moved away from her. The tension in him was tangible, as it was in her, a torturous, skin-crawling, belly-clawing need neither could hope to ignore.

“You won’t make me dishonor him,” she hissed to the entity living inside of her. She took a deep breath and willed the female leopard to retreat. “I need time to get used to you. Give me some breathing room.”

Her skin itched and her jaw ached, but the terrible fire eased a little without Drake in such close proximity. She closed her eyes and let lust wash over her, accepting the terrible, almost violent desire rushing through her like a fireball. Her blood ran hot, and she just kept breathing to try to cool down.

It took a few more minutes of deep breathing before she dared look around her. Her vision slowly cleared. Her body trembled uncontrollably. There was no way to get to her feet, but thankfully, reason was creeping in.

Grateful, Saria crawled to the bed and pulled herself up so she could rest her stomach against the edge, lean over and lay her face against the cool comforter. She wept for a few minutes, unable to stop. Nothing in her life had prepared her for such violent need. What would have happened if she’d been with a male other than Drake and her leopard had been so needy? She couldn’t just blame it on her leopard. From the moment she’d laid eyes on Drake Donovan, she’d wanted him. She couldn’t help it—maybe because he was a handsome stranger with some undefined power clinging to him. Maybe she was just a raw country girl who had no real experience with such a man, but whatever the reason, he’d set her blood rushing hotly and her pulse pounding. That had to have added to the clawing hunger entrenched inside her.

Drake stood at the edge of the doorway, watching Saria as she leaned against the bed and wept. The T-shirt rode up over the curve of her bottom, revealing small pink-striped underwear. The material fit lovingly, showing the smooth undersides of perfectly rounded cheeks. His cock, already pulsing with urgent desire, dripped, the tightness intense. Every nerve ending seemed centered in his groin.

She was everything he’d ever dared to dream of. He wanted a woman of courage. Of passion. One who preferred the outdoors and was unafraid to be his partner. He wanted a lot of sass and a little ferocity. Saria was the embodiment of all those things. He knew she belonged to him, but she was young and inexperienced. The idea of being a shifter was new to her and the intensity of the mating cycle of their species had to be frightening.

“Saria?” Drake kept his voice gentle, tried—without much success—to keep the lust and passion from his tone. The craving for her didn’t let up, not for a second, and he knew it never would even if she rejected him.

Saria slowly turned, sliding to the floor to sit with her knees drawn up and her back to the bed. She sent him a tentative smile and his heart did that strange stuttering. He knew what courage that little smile had to have taken.

She didn’t flinch away, but looked him straight in the eye. “I think you’re safe now. I’m not goin’ to jump you.”

He gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not certain that’s good news. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life than I want you. It’s not going to go away.” He wanted her to hear the ring of truth in his voice. “I’m afraid we might be in a little trouble here, honey.” He pulled a water bottle from his pack, opened it and handed it to her.