Three months ago, jaguar shifter Marshall Mackenzie met his mate. Sultry witch Mira Jones is beautiful, smart, and everything he wants—there is just one problem.

Their introduction was orchestrated by his employer, which meant Marshall was forced to break Mira’s trust in order to uncover the secrets of a magical coven responsible for killing innocents.

Mira fled from him when she learned the truth—both angry and afraid—but Marshall’s determined to teach the alluring female that while she can run from the hunger that now consumes her, she can never hide.

**Previously published under J.A. Saare. This version has been edited and revised.**

 EXCERPT:

"Fine, we'll do this somewhere else. But I'm not leaving the club with you."

"Is that so?" he asked in a husky rasp and stepped into her personal space once more.

"Cut the shit," she hissed and glanced around him again. Stepping closer, she continued, "Let me guess, you want me to track down someone else? Give you the location of some other soul so you can interrogate them for your bullshit agency?" She laughed, shaking her head. "What's the plan? Seduce me again? Wait until I'm practically pleading for relief before you bring in the big guns?"

His grin vanished, replaced by anger.

He forced his temper to cool before he responded. "I have a room upstairs. We'll talk there."

"No way." She stepped back, placing the bulky purse draped over her shoulder between them, her distrust evident. "I will not go to a room willingly with you. I learned my lesson the last time."

"You will go with me willingly, or I'll carry you." He snagged her arm when she tried to move and turned so that his back blocked out the room, preventing anyone from seeing her. "The last time was a misunderstanding that I take full credit for. I reacted impulsively, and you were embarrassed and hurt as a consequence. But I can promise you that the only big gun you'll meet tonight"—he yanked her close, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her against him until they were hip-to-hip, and she could feel the hard outline of his notable erection—"will be this one right here, darlin'."

Despite the anger he could scent, she was also aroused. Her full, berry-colored lips parted, and her pupils dilated. He shuddered when she brought her hand up, placed it against his chest, and pushed. Her touch was electric, her nearness heaven. He didn't bother asking for permission when he swept her off her feet and started walking toward the exit of the room.

Bygones would be bygones. He fucked up before, but it was time to make amends. Hell or high water, she was his female, and he was not going to exist without her.

Not anymore.