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)
Emberlyn slid out of the car, purse and laundry bag in hand. Her evening plans were simple and basically involved tea, food, a book and maybe also a bath. Possibly also some clit-love during that bath. It might be the only way to make her hormones calm down.
She closed the car door, locked it with the fob—
A long, drawn-out growl grated the air. It was low. Rumbly. Spine-chilling.
And it had come from somewhere on her left.
Her pulse jumping, she froze. But only for a moment. Ever so slowly, she turned toward the sound.
A figure lumbered out from behind the willow tree. A figure that was overly tall, broad, long-limbed – and covered in fur. Not quite man, not quite animal. Its yellow eyes were pinned on her, glowing with malicious intent. It snarled, baring long canines.
A Rabid.
Her heart went ahead and skipped a beat.
It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself up close and personal with a Rabid, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Her options were always the same – capture it or scare it off, because she wasn’t going to kill it.
The Rabid roared in challenge, flexing its thick claw-tipped fingers. Then it rushed her.
Dropping her purse and laundry bag, she lifted her hands and blasted out a force of glittering, electrically charged magick. The Rabid flew backwards, crashing into the tree, causing the branches to shudder and creak.
Emberlyn began chanting beneath her breath, intending to put the creature to sleep, but it recovered fast and came at her again.
Pausing the spell, she hit it with another blow of magick – or tried to. It lurched to the side, dodging the glittering ribbons, and then lunged at her.
Emberlyn backpedaled fast but didn’t manage to avoid the arm that reached for her. Hissing as its claws sliced into her shoulder like hot knives, she blasted it with magick again, sending it to its knees with a howl of pain. It reached for her once more, clawing her calf—
‘The fuck?’ a male voice exclaimed behind her as footsteps thundered her way. She recognized the voice instantly – Logan.
The Rabid jumped to its feet and quickly but awkwardly scurried away, disappearing into the shadows.
Its retreat wasn’t a surprise. On a full moon, it wouldn’t care about being outnumbered; would stay and fight. But on a normal day – injured and operating on animal logic – it wouldn’t hang around and risk being taken down.
Reaching her, Logan grimaced at her shoulder wound. ‘You all right?’
No, her injuries were burning like the fires of hell. ‘Fine and dandy.’
He blew out a breath. ‘Come on, let’s get you inside.’
CHAPTER TEN
Placing his washed cup on the drainer, Ripper gazed out of his kitchen window. He needed to get out of the room. Emberlyn’s scent lingered, faint now but still a tease to his senses.
Vanilla. Pink pepper. Power. Warmth. Life. Danger. It was all those things wrapped into one.
It had been clear that he had taken her by surprise when he’d invited her inside. Honestly, Ripper had surprised himself. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much of his leeriness of her had drained away.
There were times when he wondered if she’d put some kind of spell on him. He had good reason for preferring not to get entangled with a witch. It should have been enough to override her draw, but it wasn’t. Never had been. And since the moment he’d watched her laugh at Reena for thinking to challenge her, Emberlyn’s draw had sunk its claws in him deeper.
More and more he found himself staring at her mouth. More and more he had to clench his fists against the urge to reach out and touch her. And the slightest fucking thing – her smile, her laugh, her scent, her walk – could make his cock stir in his jeans.
At this point, he’d stopped merely imagining when it came to her. And that was bad. Fantasies could stay stuck in a mental draw. But now he constantly wondered.
Wondered how she tasted, how soft her skin was, how her hair would feel in his hands, how her eyes would look when she came apart around him. And all this obsessive wondering made him feel that he was coming a little too close to doing.
He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that had gripped him so tightly. No other woman had snared his attention this way. She was some kind of living, breathing lure to him. A temptation he didn’t know if he could fully resist.
What pulsed between them was tireless. Persistent. Stubborn. And a little addictive in its potency; in the way it made endorphins and feel-good chemicals flood his body.
He could do as Kerr often urged and give into it. But . . . Ripper still wasn’t entirely sure of her. He also didn’t know if she was still hung up on Michael to any degree. It would be natural enough, but he didn’t want to share a bed with someone who also harbored feelings for someone else. He’d had enough of that with CeCe.