Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
I try to imagine, really imagine, how it would happen in real life. Not in the fantasy world, I can create if I want, the make-believe land where I’m suddenly super experienced and confident enough to trail my fingernails down his heaving body.
In my mind, Ramsey leans down, bringing his lips toward mine.
I almost slip into fantasy again, envisioning myself standing on my tiptoes, meeting him in a collision of lust, heat, and longing.
But then I stop and make myself imagine the real version.
I turn away, too stunned to know what to do.
Master Pete hisses in my ear, telling me I’m acting like a slut.
Ramsey’s lips crush into my cheek, and I mumble sorry, probably stuttering on the s. And then he steps back, his lips curled, his intense, non-freaking-changing eyes widening when he realizes I can’t give him what he wants.
Opening my eyes, I stare at the ceiling, its peeling material, the cracks, and the sadness of it all.
This is it. Me. Life. This is who I am, what I have to be to help Mom and keep us both safe.
Disappearing into fantasies won’t help.
Especially when Ramsey clearly doesn’t care. He’s not interested. He never was.
Mom was right. He’s just an older man doing a good deed, helping me out, that’s all.
It’s time I let Ramsey go.
Heck, no.
Let him go?
He was never mine to begin with.
Liar, liar, that same voice cries, the familiar one, the need-driven declaration. He’s yours, and you’re his. Forever.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ramsey
I sit on my rooftop garden, my legs crossed, elbows resting on my knees. Eyes closed, the sun burning orange-red against the landscape of my eyelids, I inhale deeply.
I try to remember my training, the calm I’m supposed to feel, the certainty I can do this.
I don’t need to tilt my head, sniff the air, or scent my woman.
I don’t have to fight the urge to change suddenly, violently, and sprint across the city.
“You can’t change like that again,” Liam said on our secure cell phones a few days ago. “It was dangerous. You know better than that.”
Liam’s right. I do know better than that, but it doesn’t help the tightening in my body, the drumming in my chest every time my thoughts stray to her.
Which is often.
It’s all the time, every second, a battle I already know I can’t win.
It’s her, the thought of her flowing hair, green eyes, shaky smile, and body, the flush on her neck leading down to her round, juicy breasts, her hips made for grabbing, for claiming, for owning. With claws, teeth, and a howl that says, She is mine and mine alone.
My eyes snap open. I can feel them flaring red, aching, but not as bad as my manhood pushing against my pants. My tip is engorged, huge, and rock-solid when I think of Ruby, and I imagine walking around the desk at the gym.
“What are you doing?” my nervous little human would whimper. “Ramsey?”
Then I’d grab her, kiss her, tear away her clothes and....
And change. And kill her.
I stare at the trellis, the interwoven vines making the light dance.
It’s the reason I haven’t touched myself thinking about her, fantasizing about slipping my hand between her legs and cupping her young hot pussy.
It’s the reason that even when I imagine her on her back, her big breasts bouncing as I slip into her – my cock so hard it aches – I still don’t find a release.
My seed doesn’t belong anywhere but inside of her.
That’s the reason I could give myself.
It’s true. It doesn’t. Her body and her core are mine. My seed is hers.
The real reason is the way my fantasies warp, the evil images that creep into them, the red, violence, and the pain of it all.
Wolves have killed humans before, but I’ve never heard of something like this. There have been wolf-human mating, which is how we know some of the children have a chance to become wolves themselves.
But there was never this instant want, this scenting, this undoubting certainty that she’s mine, mine alone, and never won’t be mine.
I can meditate all I want. I can pretend all I want.
But Ruby’s all I can think about.
Standing, I sigh and wander to the edge of the roof, looking down over the city.
I try to fight the urge to tilt my head, to take a long inhale. I can feel my nose tingling with the temptation as if that part of my body wants to change, just my nose, so I can inhale her scent completely.
It’s possible to alter certain parts and keep the rest human, but not for me, not right now. My wolf blood is pumping too hotly, too full of Ruby.
If I changed now, indulged for even half a second, I’d be leaping across the rooftops before I had a chance to think about it.