Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Then I remember where I am.
I gasp and try to sit up, only to discover Noah’s still in the bed with me, his heavy arm wrapped around my waist.
He jerks at my sudden movement and then slowly releases me. Something hard brushes against my ass. My body is untouched, but I’ve witnessed the Alpha Rites. I know what this means.
Noah’s aroused.
I quickly roll off the bed, squaring off to him. The soft flannel shirt sleeves of the shirt I borrowed from him flap open, hanging far past my hands.
He sits up, and I get a full view of his naked and muscled torso. When he lifts a hand to rub his mussed hair, I see the tattoos that trace his forearms, which give him a rugged, alpha look. I want to examine them up close. To see what he chose to ink on his body. I suspect it’s something intentional. He doesn't strike me as someone who did it on a whim. Or for looks. Tattooing a shifter is a painful process involving adding salt to the ink mixture to keep our natural healing from absorbing it.
His nostrils flare like he’s taking in my scent. He throws off the covers and swings his legs off the side of the bed. “You said you weren’t scared of me.”
My gaze darts to the tent in his sweatpants. How big is he? What would it be like to…
Ack! Why am I thinking this way? I’m not interested in this male. I’m not.
He glances down and adjusts himself. “You’re scared of my dick.” He samples the air again and grows thoughtful. “No, you’re scared of your body’s reaction to me.”
Heat flushes up my neck. Damn him. He must smell both my fear and arousal. I hold the flannel closed at the neck, as if to keep him from seeing my throat. As if that, alone, would be too much of an invitation.
“I’m sorry I kissed you.” He holds his palms up. “That’s not what I want from you.” He turns and stalks out of the bedroom, almost like he’s a little pissed.
At me? Or at himself?
“What do you want from me?” I call toward his back, forgetting he can’t hear me.
I chase him into the kitchen and tap his shoulder. “What do you want from me?”
“We’ll get to that.” He pulls open the refrigerator door and pulls out a carton of eggs and a slab of bacon. “After I feed you.”
He wants to feed me. That shouldn’t make my heart flap its wings like a trapped bird in a cage.
It’s the word choice. Not after we eat. Or after breakfast.
After I feed you.
That sounds like something a male wolf says to his mate.
Grandmothers, is that what this is? Goosebumps race up my arms, and I start to tremble with the revelation.
Is Noah my mate? Is that why I’ve been dreaming of him? But that can’t be–he’s also the wolf with no ears. The wolf who will destroy the pack.
Fate wouldn’t put me in that kind of position. Fate wouldn’t pair me with the enemy.
Or would she?
“There’s enough hot water in the tank for one of us to take a shower.” Noah pulls the cast-iron skillet out of the dish rack and drops a chunk of butter into it.
Shower. Fate, yes. That’s what I need right now. And to escape this male’s presence, so I can get myself back together.
“I can make it quick,” I offer.
“Nah, take your time. You need it more than me.”
I cock a hip. “Are you saying that I smell?” Dearest Grandmothers–am I flirting?
His gaze alights on my hand at my waist and that golden sheen rolls over his irises. “Only a little.” He sniffs and scrunches up his nose, pretending he smelled something bad.
We’re flirting. Tingles of excitement fizz all around me. I laugh, and a strange look comes over his face. Something akin to…longing.
“You’re smiling,” he says.
My smile falters.
His own lips quirk although his smile looks a little sad. Wistful, almost. “I haven’t seen you smile before, Seeress.”
I shrug. “I didn’t have anything to smile about.” I turn and go into the bathroom, turning on the water and stepping in as soon as it’s warm.
Fates, the hot water feels good. The shower is surprisingly roomy for a three-room log cabin. The only soap is a bottle of hand soap from the sink, but it smells like honeysuckle and lemon, and it feels luxurious to use it to wash my hair and whole body. My wolf is preening. She wants to look good for our sexy captor.
He’s not sexy, he’s holding us hostage, I scold her, even though I had no problem flirting with him in the kitchen. Nor cuddling up with him in the bed. I slept better than I have in years, maybe ever. It was like my wolf knew I had a protector who would keep me safe, so I was able to let go and rest.