Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Ripper and Crew waited not far from the Alpha’s truck, their eyes on her vehicle.
She parked her car, her gaze locking with Ripper’s and . . . fuck her hormones. Fuck them sideways and longways and frontways. Because it absolutely was not fair that they insisted on melting at the sight of him. Didn’t they have some pride? Didn’t they have any wish to form some immunity to him?
As she slid out of the car, the warm air whispered over her, fresh and scented by flowers, water and dewy grass. It was quiet here, the only sounds the lapping of water, the distant calls of birds and the shush of greenery rustling with the gentle breeze.
She returned her attention to the two men opposite her and walked toward them.
Still and watchful, Ripper fixed his gaze on her with the unshifting precision of a dangerous predator on the hunt. It was hard not to squirm under that kind of intense scrutiny.
‘Nice place,’ she told him. ‘Great view.’
Ripper let out a grunt of what might have been thanks.
‘Crew,’ she greeted politely.
He grinned. ‘Hey, Emberlyn. I was just heading out. I’ll see you guys later.’ He jogged into the forested area at the rear of the house, quickly disappearing from view.
She looked back at Ripper . . . to find his gaze skating down her beige cotton crop top, hint of belly, matching pants and strappy sandals.
At the growing need simmering in his eyes, her sexual bells started to ring-a-ding-ding-dong. More, her magick rose up, ever-attracted to his energy. She ruthlessly shoved it back down. But it wasn’t quite as easy to get her hormones in line.
His eyes zipped back up, darkening as they stared right into hers, his unblinking gaze so damn penetrating. It wasn’t only heat in his gaze. There was conflict. Like her, he was wrestling with this thing between them.
Good luck, dude.
She wasn’t doing too well with it. His presence tugged at her. Like a magnet. The sexual pull was electrically charged. She was coming to the unfortunate conclusion that this chemistry wasn’t going anywhere.
She cleared her throat. ‘So, what’s this super-important thing I need to hear?’
‘Something you’re not going to like,’ he warned.
Just then, a droplet of water landed on her shoulder. She held up her palm, catching another droplet. It was starting to rain. Awesome.
He sighed at the sky. ‘Let’s go inside.’ With that, he began prowling toward the house.
She blinked, stunned. Werewolves didn’t easily let you into their home. You wanted to talk? They’d have a porch for that, or even a separate meeting house. ‘Inside?’
He shot her a look over his shoulder. ‘I want coffee. Need to go to the kitchen for that.’
Both confused and surprised at his gruff invitation, she nonetheless followed him up the narrow path. Werewolves operated differently. Their social language wasn’t what you would always expect. To let you into their home was an indication that they were at ease with you and willing to allow a certain level of familiarity.
If they touched you of their own accord, it meant they felt unthreatened by you. If they sniffed you, they were ‘logging’ your scent into their inner database, enabling them to find you should they need to – which indicated a pinch of protectiveness.
Werewolves tended to attach, though there were different levels of attachment. If they fed you, it meant they felt protective and wanted to take care of you, which could be perfectly platonic. But . . . if they left their scent on you using the glands on their palms, it was an indication of possession – especially if they scent-marked your hair, neck or no-no places.
Any face nibbling or cheek rubbing were demonstrations of affection. If they touched your belly in front of others, it was a huge back off signal. As were bite marks, though the bites were never deep enough to break the skin.
Aside from their single and very businesslike handshake, Ripper hadn’t ever touched her. So Emberlyn wouldn’t have thought he’d feel at ease enough around her to be like, ‘Hey, come on in.’ He could have asked that she wait on his sheltered porch while he made coffee. Instead, here they both were walking into his house.
She glanced around. Nice. It was open, light and airy with exposed wooden beams and a lodge-like vibe.
She didn’t dawdle; she stayed close behind Ripper as he walked further into the house. The color palette of warm beige, eggshell-white and taupe continued throughout, linking the rooms and adding to the open feel of the place.
Finally, they arrived at a sleek kitchen-stroke-dining room that provided plenty of seating. It was all dark woods and light-gray stone. Very masculine and contemporary.
‘Coffee?’ he offered as he pressed buttons on a machine.
Through his thin tee, Emberlyn could see the strong muscles in his back flexing and rippling. Damn. ‘No, thanks.’ She leaned back against the kitchen island, a little jealous of that machine right now – she couldn’t help wanting those fingers to push her buttons. ‘I’m more of a tea drinker.’