Ethan

“Hannah?” He tipped up her chin and waited until she met his gaze. “It’s a person’s soul I respect, not their body, and yours is strong. Bright and pure.”

“Ethan.”

His whispered name held longing. Need. Desire.

He couldn’t help but give her what she asked for. He bent and pressed his parted lips to hers, sharing air with her—a shifter’s kiss. It was the intimate exchange only close lovers indulged in. It felt right to share it with her, just as it was to hold her.

“I’m drawn to you, Hannah.” He ran the tip of his tongue over her lips, the top first, then the bottom. Her flavor hit him, sending a wave of raw lust through him. “Like a moth to a flame. Isn’t that how the expression goes?”

“How do you know my name?”

One corner of his mouth rose. “There are only a handful of black-haired, blue-eyed…” he glanced at the windows of the apartments lining the alley before focusing on her, “…women in West Virginia, and your…” Again, he trailed off. His grin widened. “Your petite stature is well known. It was a logical guess.”

She couldn’t argue his reasoning. She might not have seen many shifters outside of her pack, but she’d heard stories of some. No one had mentioned him. She would’ve remembered if someone had talked about a male with gorgeous green eyes and a body carved from stone.