Chapter 19 · What the Rain Washed Off

The kiss wasn't a kiss.

Torin's mouth slammed into mine like iron—no warning, no gentleness. His fingers tangled in the wet hair at the base of my skull, yanking my face up so hard the gasp died in my throat before it could carry ten feet into the pines.

I shoved at his chest. Solid granite. My soaked gloves slid against his heavy wool coat, gripping instead of pushing.

Four torches flickered across the ridge above us, bleeding orange through the downpour.

"Keep moving!" a guard barked from thirty yards up. "An Omega in heat doesn't outrun a patrol in this mud."

Torin's mouth parted against mine, his breath searing hot against my frozen lips. The heat plummeted straight into my belly, heavy and humiliating.

Then his thumb dug hard into the mud between his boots and smeared cold grit across my jaw.

I flinched. "What are you—"

"Shut up." His voice was a harsh rasp against my ear. His palm dragged down the bare skin of my throat, pressing directly over my hammering carotid. His pupils blew wide.