“You don’t have one.” Her eyes drifted over his body. During her dreams, she never saw anything aside from tattoos on his magnificent body.
“It’s here.” His fingers drifted to the hair behind his ear and he turned his head. Sure enough a small crescent shape was revealed, just below his hairline.
“This can’t be real.” Her heart raced, panic warring with desire. “There’s no way. I’d know if one of my parents could shift forms and howl at the moon.” She tried to yank her hand away.
“Apparently not.”
The amusement in his tone pissed her off. He might find the situation funny but she certainly didn’t. “Listen, Mr. Ego. I would know if—”
“I thought you were from one of the packs in the area when we started dreamsharing,” he continued as though he didn’t hear. “If you were human you wouldn’t have this. When I saw it, I assumed you knew what you are.” He caressed her birthmark, sending a flash of fire through the erogenous zones of her body. “There was no way to know you’re only half.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She pressed her thighs together, mortified when her sex started to throb. She should be terrified, not ready to fuck like a rabbit. Her nipples hardened into points, the lace of her bra becoming restricting and painful. “And I am human.”
“You’re half-human, and it’s not necessarily bad.” He lifted his head, his lips curving into a grin. “Just different. It changes the game a bit.”
“I hate to break it to you.” She considered shaking him. Here she was, off balance and agitated, and he was referring to the situation as a game? “But this isn’t Monopoly. Not even close. Do not pass go. No two hundred dollars for you.”
“Excuse me.” His wry grin should have made her furious. Not horny. “Bad choice of wording.”
“How about you tell me the truth?”
“You’re going through your first moon heat,” he whispered, moving closer, the warmth from his body radiating like a furnace. “That’s why you found me. You knew your time was near. It’s instinctual.”
Denying his explanation was her only defense, even though a part of her knew it was a barefaced lie. Something was occurring between them. No one had ever made her feel like this, turning everything she knew upside down and inside out.
“Maybe it’s instinctual for you but it isn’t for me,” she argued. “I didn’t come to find you. I came to get a tattoo. The dreams…our meeting…it’s serendipity.”
“Listen, sweetness.” He invaded her space, pressing his much larger body against hers. “You can keep lying to yourself but it won’t change what’s destined to happen. You came to me—you chose me.”
He released her hand and cupped her chin in his palm, forcing her to meet his intense gaze. His touch was gentle, his closeness comforting. It was hell not to squirm, to remain passive in his hold.
“Did you come to my shop for a particular reason? Or did you feel compelled to come there? Better yet, have you been feeling like yourself lately? Have you noticed changes you can’t explain?”
How did he expect her to answer those questions when he was so close she could almost taste him? His alluring scent called to her, tempting her to rip off his clothes to view the hard flesh beneath. Her eyes drifted closed as her heart thundered in her chest. She licked her lips, remembering how delicious he’d tasted, how wonderful it had felt when he’d circled his arms around her as their lips met in her dreams. A tidal wave seeped from her pussy, her clit so sensitive she wondered if she’d climax with a simple shift of her legs.
Pull yourself together. Answer him.
“I wanted to come to The Wolf’s Den,” she confessed, her voice shaky. “I don’t know why.”
When she tried to turn her head, he prevented her from doing so. His fingers were firm but gentle against her jaw. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” She forced her lids open, shocked to discover his eyes were no longer gold but almost yellow. “Tell me about your parents.”
Her parents? The shift in topic disoriented her for a moment. She quickly got her thoughts in order. “My mother died when I was a baby. I never knew my father. Why?”
“I’m just trying to figure this out.” He took a deep breath and asked, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.” If he was going to ask questions, so was she. “How about you?”
His sexy, kissable lips formed into a sinful smile. “Old enough.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
“The best you’re going to get right now,” he replied, his voice taking on a husky lilt. “Who raised you?”
God he was arrogant. Even worse? His attitude made her hotter.
“That hardly seems fair,” she snapped, increasingly annoyed.
“Answer me.” He wasn’t asking for an answer now, he was demanding one. His fingers tightened on her chin, his irises shifting color from yellow to amber.
“My grandparents. There. Happy?”
“Your mother’s parents?”
She nodded, finding it difficult to inhale. She wanted to remain angry but her entire body betrayed her. Ripples of desire scorched the inside of her skin. This was nothing like her dreams, where she’d had some measure of control. If he didn’t move away from her she’d tell him anything he wanted to know or do anything he told her to. Her pride didn’t mean squat, logical thought flying out the window.
“I should go.” Something inside her rebelled, hating the words, rejecting the possibility. “My family will be worried.”
“Your grandparents, I presume?” His voice felt as though it swept through her. No one had ever made her as edgy and aroused as this man. Not even close.
“Yes,” she whispered, clinging to his arms to remain on her feet.
Sexual need pounded at her, her blood drumming in her ears. In her fantasies she made love. She didn’t go buck wild, wanting to be fucked long and hard.
Until now.
“This isn’t like me.” She shook her head, trying to clear mental cobwebs woven with lust. “Something’s wrong. I don’t feel right.”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s the moon heat, and it’s only going to get worse. You’re in the early stages.”
He had to be joking. This was going to get worse? She was in the early stages?
“You should probably give me some space. I think I’m coming down with something.” That something being her ravenous libido, with his cock served on a platter as an entrée.
Damn. When did the room become so warm? Was it this difficult to breathe before?
Fear hit, rolling like thunder through her. What would happen if she let things progress between them? He obviously wanted her as much as she wanted him. What would the repercussions be if they spent a night together? Would her life ever be the same again?
“Shh, easy,” he murmured. “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe with me. I’m going to take care of you.”
She shook her head at his statement. They didn’t know each other—not really. Yes they’d shared dreams—extremely explicit and naughty dreams—but if she wanted to understand what was happening she had to take care of herself. She couldn’t depend on him for anything more than answers.
Her mind combated the champagne fizzles raging through her body, attempting to give her some semblance of restraint. She tingled in places she didn’t know existed, her nipples and pussy so hypersensitive she couldn’t stand it.
“I don’t even know you.” Like an annoying parrot, she kept repeating herself.
Way to go. Charm him with your dizzying intellect.
She wanted to wince, knowing she probably appeared as silly as she felt.