He shouldn't have done that. His blood was already running too hot, and the curl of her talons in his shirt to drag him closer all but douses him in gasoline. Omega just barely manages to catch at the tree instead of her because his claws rake the bark instead of tearing fabric, and for every kiss she answers, the next one is harder.

He ignores the deer. No matter how strong or sweet the aroma of death may be around them, it doesn't compare to her presence and the command she has over his body, even when she doesn't realize it, even when she shouldn't.

"Name it," he purrs into her mouth, a low and wicked promise.