She forced an answering smile. “Thank you for spending the night in the house with me. I really wouldn’t have been so foolish as to try to take a walk around the grounds but it’s nice to know someone was worried.” Self-consciously she seated herself in the high-backed chair he held out for her. “I suppose you have the keys to the house?”

“Yes, of course. I reside here most of the time. The forest has a way of reclaiming what belongs to it very quickly. The creeper vines wind beneath the eaves if I don’t stay alert.” He sat facing her at the end of the table.

Maggie watched his strong fingers find a mango wedge and bring it to his mouth. Strong teeth bit down. Her entire body clenched in response. She forced herself to look away from him. “Can you tell me anything about my parents? I was adopted at the age of three and really don’t remember anything at all.”

Brandt watched her expressive face, the conflicting emotions chasing across it. Maggie was fighting her attraction to him, determined to ignore it. She was much more potent up close. The chemistry between them sizzled and arced so that the very air around them was electric. “All of us in the forest know of your parents, Maggie,” he said softly, watching her closely. The mango tasted sweet, the juice trickling down his throat like the finest wine, but it couldn’t take her place. She would taste sweeter, more intoxicating.

“Tell me then.” She took a cautious sip of the juice and was instantly entranced. It was a nectar she couldn’t identify, but her mouth absorbed her first sip as if parched for the taste. Embers smoldering in the pit of her stomach leapt to life, spread like a living flame through her bloodstream. The hand holding the glass trembled.

Brandt leaned closer, his fingertips brushing back a tendril of hair as it escaped from her upswept crown. His touch lingered, sent flames dancing over her skin to match the building conflagration inside of her. “The taste is unique, isn’t it?” His lean, strong fingers closed over hers, brought the glass to her lips. “Drink, Maggie, drink all of it.” His voice was husky, seductive, a tantalizing invitation to a feast of pleasure.

She wanted to resist. There was something in him that frightened her even as he attracted her. A power, the possessive way he touched her. Maggie was certain she was placing herself in his control, but the scent of the nectar enveloped her, tempted her. One strong hand was at her nape, his fingers curling around her neck, making her all too aware of his strength. He tilted the glass and the golden liquid slid down her throat. Fire blossomed in her, pooled low, and burned out of control.

Panicked, Maggie jerked her head back, her green gaze meeting his. He was so much closer than she had thought, the heat of his body seeping into her. She couldn’t look away, hypnotized as he brought the glass to his own mouth. His lips settled intimately over the exact spot where her lips had touched. He tilted the contents down his throat, all the while holding her gaze with his own.

Her lungs burned for air. She watched his throat work, watched as he caught a drop of amber liquid on his fingertip and deliberately carried it to her mouth. Before she could stop herself, her tongue darted out, swirled along his finger, absorbing the taste of him along with the nectar. For one moment her mouth was tight around his finger, sucking on his flesh, her tongue dancing and teasing provocatively. Maggie could feel her body dampening, burning with sudden hunger. Her hips moved restlessly and she ached for relief.

Brandt inhaled sharply, caught the enticing scent of her invitation. It nearly drove him crazy. He was half-mad for her already. The sensation of her mouth, hot and moist, tight around his finger, made him as hard as a rock. It was an easy enough step for his body to know what it would feel like to have his mate give the same attention to his heavy erection. His hand tightened possessively around her neck, he bent his head closer.

Maggie abruptly pulled away, nearly tumbling out of the chair as she hastily backed away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Tears burned in her throat, glittered in her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please go.” She had never, at any time in her life, ever acted in such a manner. And Brandt Talbot was a complete stranger. No matter how much his scent and looks attracted her, no matter how right he felt, he was a stranger.

“Maggie, you don’t understand.” Brandt stood also, stalking her across the expanse of the kitchen. His body was compact, muscular, and he reminded her of a great jungle cat, ropes of rippling muscles, power and coordination.

She retreated until the counter brought her up short. “I don’t want to understand. I want you to go. Something’s wrong with me.” There was a fever in her blood, her mind was in chaos. Images of writhing on the floor with Talbot were etched in her brain. She could hardly think clearly. Her body betrayed her, her breasts aching and tender. In her deepest, most feminine core she burned for him. “Just go. Please just go.” She honestly didn’t know which of them was in more danger.

He put a hand on either side of her body, trapping her between his hard frame and the counter. “I know what’s wrong with you, Maggie. Let me help you.”

Her fingers actually curled into a claw. She raised her arm, going for his eyes even as her brain screamed a protest. Brandt was fast, whipping his head to one side, shackling her wrist tightly. Maggie closed her eyes, terrified of reprisal. Although his grip was like a vise, he wasn’t hurting her.

“Maggie, what is happening to you is very natural. This is your home, where you belong. Can’t you feel it?”