It was just a simple sentence. All she needed to do was reject him, but she had no idea why she couldn't say it to him. His scent always hit her first, dark, warm, and dangerously addictive, like spiced smoke and clean skin. It wraps around her senses, making her pulse stutter.
Then came the pull. That deep, visceral tug low in her belly that turned her blood to liquid fire and melted every rational thought she owned. One look and she's completely out of breath.
The dinner table felt far too small despite the grand size of the Alpha's dining room.
Willow sat directly across from Lucien, painfully aware of every breath he took. The bond between them pulsed like a living thing, warm and insistent, making it hard to focus on the delicious meal Moxie had prepared.
All she wanted to do was run to his arm. No thoughts about breaking the bond. Her mother was right, the bond was something not even she could control.
