Chapter Two Hundred Seventy–Five
ANASTACIA
When I finish my bath I feel amazing, I hadn’t had a sonk like that in fever and trying to keep ahead of the hounds put me out of a shower for a week. Enough mud came off of me to fill a swamp with and swear my skin is two shades lighter now that I’m freshly scrubbed.
Stepping into Paul’s room, I take everything in. His fluffy black pillows and indigo duvet, the gray walls, the black velvet furniture… The space is dark with artificial lanterns lighting the corners of the room in soft orange light. Gazing around, I notice he forgot to lay out clothes for me to wear, so I go ahead and help myself to a couple of things in his drawers. Selecting a pair of his boxer briefs that I tie together in front to keep them on, and a thin, wom while t–shirt that’s as soft as kitten fur, I float toward the stairs in somewhat of a
trance.
Why had Paul and I been under the cold spray of the shower when I woke up?
Why had I been passed out at all?
When I was submerged in that heavenly warm water, with bubbles all the way up to my chin, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something I was supposed to be doing. Or something that I was supposed to remember.
message?
But what? And from who?
The aroma of something cooking spirals up the stairs then into the room and my stomach attacks. Growling ferociously and reminding me that it’s been a while since I’ve had an actual meal Maybe Fil remember what it is after I eat.
The shirt I’ve chosen smells delicious. Like papaya and frosted lemonade. A smell that makes me think of cocktails on the beach.
ere was a bar in the living room. I wonder how well stocked it might be. Maybe I can make a couple of drinks.
There w
As I float down the stairs barefoot, I can hear him talking on the phone, so I pitter patter over to the bar and grab a tumbler. Then… I listen as he talks about the hounds…
“Yeah. I had words with the Alpha chasing her as well. According to him, she killed his sister or something and owes him her life, Paul
says.
My jaw clenches in anger. What a fucking sneaky Merle War Drake is. First of all, he never had a damned sister. I’m the one that has a sister.
“Wait a minute. You haven’t even left the island yet?” Paul is saying as I stalk toward the kitchen needing to set Paul straight. Pausing in the doorway to let him finish his conversation, I admire the lines of his back as he moves. The ripples of tendons and flesh are itching to be explored. Goddess, he’s sexy. Despite the loose sweatpants, the definition of his ass calls out to me. Every little more he makes dances with muscle. My mouth goes dry just watching.
“Cane?” Paul asks.
Funny that he hasn’t even noticed that I’m standing here. He’s a wolf shifter after all. They’re known for their superior hearing. I can barely make out the voice on the other line, but I know this much, it isn’t female, which for some reason pleases me.
“Fuck that. We don’t even know if it’s true,” Paul says, and my guess is whoever is on the phone suggested that he give me up.
I’m not gonna lie, his passionate response has my core on the hat trot.
Still not noticing me, I eye him as he flips two steals in the pan, I begin to roll the tumbler between two hands, trying to be patient as
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Chapter Two Hundred Seventy–Five
Paul goes on. “Not yet. This is happened. She’s still in the bath.”
Nope. Actually Fim behind you,
“What the hell? Fuck no, I wouldn’t touch a witch asshole. Not for my son. Not even of she were my more.”
A ringing starts in my ears that’s so loud, for a moment I sway on my feet.
The sting of his words is immediate and much more powerful than I’d like to admit. Batting my eyelashes to keep moisture from gathering. I prepare to make myself known, but something stops me.
Paul snorts and then insults me. They’re creepy as fuck.”
A
surge of white hat anger engulfs my palms and the glass in my hands shatters without me even dropping the damn thing. Sparkling slivers shower my feet and although I’m shocked–because I’ve never had that happen before my mind focuses on the blond bastard in front of me that just called me creepy.
Why creepy? How frocking awful com / be? I have never been called CREEPY in all my life.
Paul spins afound, the sound of the tumbler exploding catching his attention. His gaze lands at my bare feet and the glass dust all around me. His eyes sweep upward slowly, the bulge behind his pants swelling in the space of an instant. Creepy my ass. Fuck you, Pretty Paul
He reaches out for a moment when he sees me, almost like he wants to grab for me, but my throat is tight and my eyes are hot with anger. So I shake my head no as my chest begins to heave with rage and disappointment. I suddenly feel so out of place that I don’t
ven know what to do.
I wish I were at home. At Gran’s old place. With my sister.
Leme. You should leave.
And run again? No fucking thank you. I need a good night’s sleep at the very least. After that, maybe I’ll be able to figure a way home. Maybe III have this idiot in front of me take me all the way back to Louisiana. I doubt the hounds will be able to follow his jeep on a two and a hit thousand mile trip.
“Fuck,” Paul hisses into the phone. “I’ve got to go. Call me when you dock.” Then he hangs up and we simply stare at one another. To my immense pleasure, Paul looks like he just swallowed a toad. He knows he just fucked up. He knows. He mumbles, “I–I didn’t… I mean I just
“No!” I choke out. “Don’t you dare apologize. I’d much rather know how you really feel than have you pretend I’m welcome here or pretend you’re attracted to me. Then my eyes wither downward, where his cock is still hard as stone. “Creepy indeed.”
“Pretend I’m attracted to you? Who said that I was attracted to you?” His handsome face flushes and then he smirks down at his crotch. “Uh. Doesn’t look like pretend to me.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I snap and he loses his smile, his jaw clenching angrily.
I hate that he’s so handsome.
His words echo in my head I wouldn’t touch a witch asshole. Not for any reason. Not even if she were my mate. That declaration alone sends a rip of pain right through the center of my chest, though I can’t figure why.
Why does his dismissal of me hurt the way it does?
I’ve always known that Wolf Shifters have mates. I’ve never wished to be one. So why does it feel like he just crushed my heart in the palm of his hand?
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I snort my disgust at him and at myself as I start to back away, but he lightning fast so he’s ont me in the time it takes me to gap, Staring down at me, his blue eyes swirl like the turbulent sea. “Don’t more until I can get that glass up.
I sneer at him, despite that his sudden nearness has my downtown damsel damp with anal, Ni, A. Bant get all CREEPY on Jim non,
He steps around me, heading for a hall closet and grabbing a handheld yacım from inside. Returning to me, he bends over and fin granted a close up view of his grand derriere while he sucks up the gla. Finishing up the chore, he sets the vacinin on the breakfast nook to my left and then reaches for me so quickly that I don’t have tijne to protest.
At least, not until I’m in his arms and being carried brid
bridal style mer to the sink. “I can walk, you know,”
“No,” he says simply, not meeting my y eyes. “That glass exploded at your feet. Let me wash it off.”
No! I want to scream, but I don’t. The truth is, being this close to his powerful chest is soothing in the strangest way. Even if I do disgust
him.
He sets me on the cold counter so that my feet are in the sink, then he uses the sprayer to remove all traces of glass from my ankles and soles. The water is warm so I relax a bit, staring into the drain as the remaining glass dust swirls down the pipes, all the while ignoring his eyes that I can feel boring into the side of my face.
Shutting off the tap, he grabs a towel from the cupboard above the sink and pats my feet dry, then his thumb grazes my that heat floods my core. He inhales sharply, his eyes going nearly black as he gazes down at me.
A tiny smile turns his lips. “You like me.”
skin so gently
I swallow thickly, my eyes snapping toward the stove at his back. “You’re burning the food.” He ignores that, his hand leaving the towel to stroke five Engers up the side of one ankle. Again I feel my pusy thrumming. Dawn him. “And you need to stop touching me,” I grumble. “I know how much you hate it.”
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Jacqui Rossouw
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Just asking for a friend…..where is the next chapter…..??? Lol……I need my fix, Jaylee.
