Feral Attraction

Erik had known he was doomed from the first smell of her. The delicate perfume of jasmine crept inside him every time she neared. He was a guest at the local earl’s table and Björn’s only acknowledged daughter waited on him. Her constant proximity was maddening.
Bera reached to refill his tankard of mead and her hip pressed into his arm. Russet hair spilled over her shoulder when she turned to look at him. Eyes the color of a winter sky reflected the flickering lamplight and regarded him with a touch of humor at the corners. “Do you require anything else?” A cryptic smile curved her lips.
The wolf inside came alert, hungry for more than dinner. Yes, he most assuredly did require something else–a taste of her skin, to start. He nearly grabbed her outstretched hand to bring it to his mouth, but managed to quell the urge. That idea bordered on suicide. He sat at the dinner table not just with her father, but surrounded by a handful of her oldest brothers. Every one of them was larger than Erik and most of them more than a match for his level of power.
He met her eyes, savoring the brief connection between them. “More venison.”
“Right away.” She bumped his arm with her hip as she turned.
He followed her progress across the room to where what remained of a deer carcass turned on a spit. She sliced into the flank. The watering of his mouth had nothing to do with the aroma of roasting meat and everything to do with the curve of her hip undulating in counterbalance to her confident motions.