"No, I don't," I said, my body moving toward him on its own. When I was inches from him, I stopped. "Why can't you kill me, Gabe?" My voice was low, my breathing erratic as I studied him, trying to decide what the hell a chayot was. I had no clue. He'd said he wasn't a werewolf, so there was that. He pulled me so that our chests touched, his eyes boring into mine. My heart pounded, and I felt his pounding too. Beat for beat. I was furious, scared, and angry. Worst of all, I wanted him. I wanted his lips on mine again. And I wanted him to keep his promise to never leave me. His hurt and confusion vanished, replaced with his need for me. In answer, his mouth covered mine, his lips warm and urgent. Without hesitation, I responded, hungry for all of him. He seemed to need me the same way, and before I knew it, we were back on my bed, his body covering mine, his hands in my hair. I let my hands roam over his body, exploring the muscles on his back, shoulders, and chest. Our
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