Selma whined at being separated from the comfort of his body, but then seemed to realize where she was. Her slim fingers clenched in his black sheets as her gaze quickly darted around the room, lingering on the bed beneath her. Then she turned those lovely chocolate-colored eyes on him once more.

Kain groaned with want at the complete surrender in them and had to grasp at the nearest bedpost to stop himself from ripping the clothes from her body so he could ravage her.

“Take me.” Her voice rasped in an odd mix of a plea and a command. “I need you. Take me now, please!”

As if he had to be reminded of how much she needed to have his cock fill her greedy little cunt—the air was laden with the smell of her heat, mingling with the musk of his own hormones.

“I can't. I need to heal you first, and then I will help you.” His hand clenched around the wooden pole marking one of the bed's corners while he desperately tried to regain a bit more control.

She might have been too far gone on the magic to feel her injuries, but he’d never forgive himself if he hurt her further while he sated her.

But Selma had other plans. She narrowed her eyes, shifting the expression on her pale face from pleading to feral.

Faster than he would have thought a human of her stature could move, she launched to her feet, staggering on the plush mattress, and then threw herself at him. He managed to catch her just as she pressed her lips urgently against his, her tongue demanding access with soft, but persistent strokes.

Kain moaned when her nails scratched at his nape, inadvertently allowing her to deepen the kiss until all he could sense was the soft warmth of her mouth, the taste of her tongue, and the sensation of her slight body pressing against his. His hands found the swell of her backside—and shortly after, her jeans' waistband, which he shredded without effort.

He tore the maimed pants and underwear off her legs, never breaking away from her desperate kiss, then grabbed her sweatshirt and bra in two handfuls and ripped, wanting nothing but to feel her—all of her—naked against his searching palms.

Only when his fingers brushed over one of the many cuts on her skin did he manage to pull free of her once more, pushing her down on the mattress with a growl.

“Stay!” he snarled, putting his full authority behind the command when she made a move to launch herself at him again.

Selma growled in response, baring her blunt human teeth and looking so much like a feral kitten he couldn’t contain a rumble of amusement.

“Stay,” he repeated, softer but no less firmly this time.

She obeyed, remaining propped on her hands on the bed, eyes glued to his every move.