Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I snarl at his words.
“Dom, you’ll upset Ruby if you show up tonight looking like you’ve been in a bar brawl,” a woman’s voice says from behind me, making me loosen my grip on Stone. Hearing the words ‘upset Ruby’ makes something in me stop.
I glance to the side, seeing Gwen approach me. Her hand is extended like she plans to use it to comfort me.
“I’m not yours to touch,” I snap at her, not even feeling guilty. The thought of her hand on me makes my stomach cramp. My need for Ruby is hitting me harder and harder, making me throw my head back and howl. My wolf can take no more, and I start to shift.
Suddenly, I feel a sharp sting in my back. I look over my shoulder, seeing a syringe sticking out of me. Gwen jumps back, leaving the needle stuck in place. My body goes lax, black spots dot the room, and a vision of Ruby’s face comes into view. I want to reach up and touch her, but I can’t move my arms to pull her to me.
“You can’t keep me from her.” I force the words past my lips.
“Get the chains,” is the alpha’s only response.
Chapter Seven
Ruby
I look out the front window of the bakery, the once kid-filled streets are now empty as I flip the sign on the door to signal that we’re closed. Disappointment and agitation roll through me; I haven't seen Dominic all day.
I was sad when I woke up this morning and didn't find him in bed with me. I’d thought maybe I’d had too much to drink last night and just had had one of my very detailed dreams about him again.
That was until I looked in the mirror when I was getting ready for work and saw the hickey on clear display for all the world to see. With my fair complexion I knew no amount of makeup was going to cover up that mark. For some reason the thought of covering it up didn’t sit well with me. I found myself touching the mark all day. Each time I did, a ping of desire would shoot through my body.
Now I’m just pissed. He’s been standing outside my bakery every day for three weeks, and the day after he face plants into my crotch he disappears?
What’s worse is my body doesn’t care at the moment. If he walked in the door right now, I’d probably climb him like a tree and beg him to do it again, not caring that he slipped out on me in the middle of the night and avoided me all day.
I had no idea it could be like that. He made me feel like I was the best thing he’d ever touched. That he was starved for me. That he’d never get enough of me, but clearly he did.
Sighing, I make my way back behind the counter and start closing down the displays while Gwen handles the kitchen, trying to play catch up after she was late this morning.
A few minutes later she comes strolling in from the kitchen with a basket full of Halloween cookies in hand.
“I don’t think we’re getting any more kids,” I say, nodding to the front window. Main Street has cleared out. The kids did a walk in while wearing their costumes earlier today. I’d heard someone say the kids were going to the neighboring town to trick or treat this year because of the full moon, which didn't make any sense to me, but that seemed to happen to me a lot around here. I didn’t think I’d have to deal with a language barrier moving from Northern California to Colorado, but it seems I do.
She nods, agreeing with me. “Cute little nuggets probably won't even get to trick or treat with the way the weather is looking.”
The dark clouds have been rolling in all day and finally look like they are about to let loose. “Probably right. At least they got to do the shops.”
It was cute watching all the kids, dressed up and walking up and down Main Street with their parents. Even some of the moms and dads dressed up with them. It made me long to have my own family. Dominic flashes through my mind, making my body heat.
“What with the basket then?” I ask, trying to keep my mind off him. I take off my apron, folding it up and putting it under the counter.
“It’s a delivery,” she says simply, like we do those around here.
“We don’t do deliveries.”
“Well, the old bakery did, so I just thought…” She bites her lip like I might be upset, but a delivery means someone local is making the order, and I’ll take all the local customers I can get.
“It’s fine. Do you have an address?”