Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
She unexpectedly found herself fascinated with learning more and decided to search the bookshelves for books on other unearthly creatures besides werewolves. She had been so thrilled with the perk of visiting the MacMadadh Wolf Preserve that she hadn’t paid as much attention to the book project she was taking part in—The Sexual Appetites of Unearthly Creatures: Fiction, Fantasy, or Fact. How many unearthly creatures did Vera plan on including in the book?
She was curious to see if Tiernan had a section on the supernatural or fables since creatures showed up in many old fables. But that would have to wait for later. She wanted to get more writing done first.
Page after page flew by easily along with time until she realized she could use a snack since after that full breakfast, lunch hadn’t been a thought in her mind, and now supper wasn’t that far off. She closed her computer and made her way to the kitchen with ease and stopped short as soon as she entered.
Tiernan stood by the sink shirtless, blood dripping down his back from a gash on his shoulder.
She hurried to him. “What happened?” She snatched the cloth he held in his hand and ordered, “Go sit. I will see to it.” She found a bowl in one of the cabinets, filled it with water and took it to the table. “Well, what happened?” she asked again, clearly upset.
“It’s nothing,” Tiernan said.
She pointed to the gash. “That’s not nothing. It is a gash that needs stitches.”
“Nay. It needs no stitches, just a good cleaning. It will heal itself.” He chuckled. “It might be slow to heal considering my age, but it will heal on its own.”
Olivia recalled something she read. “Werewolves heal remarkably fast, even from the deadliest wound.”
“You have done your research. That’s right, we do heal exceptionally fast. Except that advanced age can slow down healing and the more it slows, the more the werewolf knows that his lifespan is waning.”
She hadn’t been aware of that. “How long should it take to heal?”
“If it isn’t healed within an hour, then I know I’m getting old.” He laughed again.
Olivia didn’t laugh. If the gash healed that quickly it could all but confirm that Tiernan was a werewolf since a wound like that would take days to heal. If it did take days, then what did that say? He was nuts, or had his werewolf years caught up with him? Either way, she didn’t care for the outcome. So, was she wishing for him to be a werewolf?
She brushed his hair off his shoulder to wipe the blood away and take a closer look at the gash. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? The wound didn’t look as bad as it had only a few moments ago. She glanced over his back and chest as she finished washing off the blood. There wasn’t a mark or scar on him. His skin was clear and smooth, not a single hair on his back or chest. Surely, a werewolf would be a scant hairy. He was muscular, more than enough to catch the eye and admire.
Touch was another matter. There was something about his skin that felt different when her hand brushed over it. How, with such firm muscles, his skin could feel soft, as if she wanted to bury her hands in him like she did with Samson, her Alaskan Malamute. She had loved running her fingers through his hair and burying her face in it when she hugged him.
“You touch with feeling, Olivia,” he said, startling her out of her thoughts and hugged her waist with one arm when she went to step away from him. “Don’t leave me. You’re right where you belong.”
His remark felt as if it squeezed at her heart in a good way and she stayed as she was when he rested his face between her breasts and breathed deeply. He whispered something that sounded familiar to her. It was Gaelic. A previous co-worker used it often when dealing with the wolves.
Mo ghràdh.
She had to be wrong. Gaelic was not an easy language to speak or understand, though it had flowed so smoothly off his lips. But it couldn’t be what she thought. She had to have heard him incorrectly. Why would he call her my love?
She warned herself to move away from him so she could process what she was feeling, sensing, but she didn’t. She felt it. He was right. She was where she belonged. But how could that be? How could it feel so right?
She wrapped her arms around his head, keeping him there against her, needing him there, and his arm tightened around her waist, letting her know that he had no intentions of letting her go.
Did she finally admit to herself that she wanted this man, had an overpowering need for him, and damn with any consequences? She had never thought like that before now. She always weighed her decisions and made the most logical ones, but right now nothing seemed logical. How could it when she was thinking, wanting, aching to have sex with a man who claimed to be a werewolf?