Omega is not in control. His ability to resist her as been questionable at best ever since he met her, and with his quota for her affection severely under-filled lately he's struggled to hold himself back from even the smallest taste she's given him. Each one has been bolder than the last over the past few days, and his resolve is crumbling -- no, not that. He wants to keep her safe from the demons still prowling her head. But he's it's getting hard to remember.

The weight of his body pins her against the tree, deepening the kiss to pure sin and dragging his claws down the tree in lieu of drawing white lines across her soft, warm flesh. It's only when he notices the telltale stirring inside his dark jeans that he gathers whatever grain of sense remains to him. Bared fangs scrape her lip, and he draws in a sharp hiss, pulling no further away from her than it takes to do so.

He's breathing hard, talons half-embedded in the wood at her back. If he touches her, he won't have a chance in hell.