It was a physical thing, yes. My body burned for him—for his touch, for his mere presence. Each day we were around each other, it became harder and harder to ignore the almost overwhelming need, but it was more than a physical desire. It was him, everything about Zayne. His humor and intelligence. His need to protect those whom others did not find worthy of protecting. The way he sometimes looked at me as if I were the most important being ever created. It was even in the way I knew he had loved Layla, been hurt by her loss but still wanted her to be happy with Roth. It was the moments. When a chuckle turned into in real laugh. When he let himself go, slipped out of the role of Warden and Protector to just be Zayne. It was that dinner and the nights he was there to beat back the nightmares. It was the moments when he helped me forget about Misha.

And all of that...terrified me, because I was... I was falling in love with him, and that was forbidden. Even if it weren’t, it was risky, because he’d loved Layla so fully, and I didn’t know if that meant he had the capacity to feel that kind of love again.

But Zayne wanted me.

I could feel how much he wanted me, through the bond and in the way his body trembled against mine, and I realized he wasn’t fighting this anymore.

And I... I stopped fighting.

I stopped thinking and worrying.

Our lips met, and the kiss was hard and deep, and when the tip of my tongue touched his, I was lost in the low sound that rumbled from the back of his throat.

Zayne pressed me against the wall, his hand cradling my face as he kissed me, rocking his hips against mine. Trapped as I was between him and the wall, there was no escaping the rush of sensations each roll of his hips brought forth. I moaned into his mouth, and whatever control Zayne might have had shattered.

With a powerful surge, he pulled me away from the wall and turned, his mouth never leaving mine as he walked backward. Somehow we made it to the bedroom. He laid me flat on my back, and only then did his mouth leave mine. His lips trailed a path down my neck as his hands slid under my shirt. His fingers curled around the material as he lifted his head. A question filled his luminous eyes, the stark need pouring from every inch of his face.

“Yes,” I told him.

His pupils constricted and then thinned into vertical slits. “Thank God.”