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sting. She whimpered and trembled, wondering if she could remain still beneath his touch.
    Slowly, he released her wrists, but when she started to move, he put them back over her head. His stern gaze told her to leave them there without his restraint. With firm insistence, he pressed down on her thighs, a silent order that she followed, instantly lowering her legs until her toes touched the concrete. She shuddered as their bodies met chest to chest and their breaths mingled. For a full minute, he stared into her face, both of them still.
    He ripped open his pants and undid hers, sliding them down her thighs, slowly, inexorably. His hands cupped her ass and squeezed her flesh so hard she knew there'd be marks there. When he lifted her legs, guiding them back around his waist, she had a moment of anxiety, but then his lips pounded hers, and she was lost in sensation. His tongue plundered her mouth, demanding, seeking.
    With one twist, he thrust his cock deep inside her, her back scraping the wall from the force. He growled against her lips, his frantic movements revealing how much he wanted her. She couldn't help it. Her hands twined in his hair, pressing him closer, reveling in his desire.
    The consequences were huge, but she didn't stop. She sought some sense of connection, something she hoped for, longed for in those lonely nights she'd spent numb and aching. With desperate hands, she reached for it, wanting something more than life had given her thus far.
    When she orgasmed, she shattered, the overwhelming thought only of him, his touch, his body. The consequences didn't even register, didn't matter. There, in that dark alley, she gave something she'd resisted ever since her sister's murder and the beginning of her undercover work in the Brotherhood.
    Her heart.
    Did it matter that Xandros was a shady pilot with a past? Did it matter that he was marking her for his own reasons, none of which had a fucking thing to do with feelings? No. All that mattered was her pulse pounded for a different reason than fear. All that mattered was that, for a moment at least, she belonged to someone.
    She angled her hips, taking him deeper, savoring him, needing him. He swore, a vicious sound of frustration and gripped her hair to yank her head back. He kissed her, not the cool, calculated dominance he'd begun with, but with a wild, feral intensity that sent her senses spinning.
    His tongue thrust inside her mouth as his cock slid back and forth inside her slick channel. The sound he made when he came was muffled by her mouth. The burning that followed was painful, excruciating. Just as she thought it would rob her of her pleasure, Xandros shifted his hips, and she tumbled over the edge. Her second climax rippled along her nerves, chasing the pain away.
    Heat, need, lust. She tasted them all. When she blinked her eyes open and raised her arm, she didn't know if she felt regret or not. Too late for it anyway. Reality crashed over her head. Marked. She should be appalled, terrified, something. Instead, the knots in her belly uncoiled, and a feeling of relief swamped her. Now she belonged to Xandros. Part of her rejoiced that she had connected to him in this deeply intimate way. The conflicting fear had very little power in this moment.
    Instead, she noted the details of her mark, the way the wings of the herwalk seemed poised for flight, its eyes mysterious and dangerous, the noble tilt of its head. It was beautiful.
    Xandros stared at her forearm, a satisfied gleam on his shadowed features. “Mine,” he whispered and ran his thumb along the fresh scar on her arm.
    He'd marked her. Made her his. Yet, everything she knew about him contradicted his action. It seemed...reckless. “Why?” she asked.
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Chapter Four
    Xandros didn't want to answer her question any more than he wanted to pull away from her body and leave her alone. He didn't believe in the mark. It was just hormones, something in a Nyral's anatomy. There