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neck.
    “Are you alone?” a throaty feminine voice whispered.
    “Yes,” he hissed, pissed off that he’d been spotted, and furious that he hadn’t even realized it.
    When the hand released him, he spun on the branch he’d been perched upon and froze again.
    Crouched in front of him—her eyes red, her bloody fangs bared, her claws ready to rip into him—was a naked female Skin. Her long black hair was ratty and snarled, covered in bits of leaves and caked with mud, and her olive skin was smudged with dried blood and dirt.
    She was by far the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
    “Fuck me,” he whispered, looking his fill of her lithe, muscular body.
    She cocked her head to one side, her lips curving in amusement. “So sure of yourself.”
    She laughed, a throat -purring sound, and his body hardened. “Fată, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”
    “I already know you’re a narcissistic asshole.”
    He grinned. “I’m easy, too.”
    She matched his grin, and his cock surged forward.
    “I can smell your need,” she said with surprise, studying him every bit as intensely as he was studying her. “I can see it, yet you do nothing.”
    Oh, he wanted her. He wanted her very, very badly.
    “Say the word,” Shandor growled, “and I’ll do everything.” Please, please, say the word.
    Her smile turned nasty, taunting him. “I have a male,” she said. “Several , actually.”
    Unfamiliar jealousy hit him like a ton of bricks and he didn’t much like the feeling. Before he could stop himself, h is arm shot forward and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Using his hold on her, he yanked her up against him.
    “Fuck your males,” he said hoarsely, cupping her breast and squeezing the soft flesh.
    She sucked in a harsh breath and growled low. “Release me,” she demanded, “before I rip your heart out through your throat.”
    Damn, he hadn’t wanted to grab her in the first place. Okay, that was a lie. He’d wanted to, and he’d tried to control himself, but something inside of him was refusing to let her go. Even knowing that attacking a fată who didn’t want his attention was wrong , he still couldn’t seem to let her go. Rational thought had begun fading the minute he’d lost control over his sexual impulses. Not only that, the urges were baser; he wanted to control her, to claim, the need coming from deep within him. His body was literally demanding hers.
    Every part of him screamed, berating him to take her, to throw her down and force her into submission whether she wanted it or not. Shandor swallowed it back, trying to fight the urges, trying to fight the monster inside him that wanted to make this female his.
    “I can’t,” he rasped, twitching as his muscles continued to fight against his will. “I can’t stop.”
    Her leg shot out from under her, and her foot connected with his groin. Howling with pain, he released her instantly and she jumped to her feet, then took hold of the tree branch above her. Using both feet, she swung and kicked and with a heavy thud, her bare feet landed square in his chest.
    Shandor hit the earth hard, breaking several bones, including his spine. While he lay there, groaning as he healed, the female swung down from the tree and pounced on him. The other Skins, having heard his fall, had abandoned their meal in favor of him. There were nearly a dozen of them gathered in a circle where he lay, all ready to tear into him.
    “I said,” the female growled, “hands off.”
    She was strong. He’d give her that. But he could kill her. Hell, if he wanted, he could kill them all with one wave of his hand.
    But he was a Romani, a Gypsy, a man who’d grown up in a clan nearing one hundred souls, and never once had he been alone or on his own. Now, after what he’d become, his family would never accept him. They’d kill him, or worse…he would kill them.
    But these Skins…
    He could have a clan again. A family again.
    And if it meant he got to fuck the shit out