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But it’s what needed to happen. Feeling anything resembling closeness to her would be even more of a disaster than her finding out I’m a shifter.
Or getting bitten by a vampire.
No–scratch that–nothing could be worse than that leech touching her. I still want to punch my own throat for putting her in that situation. I regret taking her to that demon. I still want to go back with a fucking stake and drive it straight through his unbeating heart.
But I should leave things the way they are with Lauren. With her despising me and me having leverage. I shouldn’t be back at her window with the letter in my back pocket.
The screen is ripped from where my paw went through on the last full moon. I’m surprised her rich daddy hasn’t fixed it yet.
But, then again, he’s grieving.
It’s harder to scorn these rich humans now that I know they’re all suffering. They’re not closed off because they think they’re too good for the rest of us–they’re shut down from grief.
Or maybe it’s both.
Probably both. She definitely still has a chip on her shoulder, no matter how you slice the cake.
I catch her scent around the window, and my wolf whines.
I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Leave the letter on her windowsill? Put it in her mailbox? All I know is that my conscience wouldn’t rest until I brought the letter here.
I look in the window. My vantage point is different than when I’m in wolf form. On two legs I can see her bed below the window. The sprawl of her thick copper hair across the pillows.
I gently detach the screen and lean it against the house. Then I try the window.
It’s unlocked.
Lauren’s eyes fly open at the soft sound. I’m about to throw the window wide and hurl myself through to clap a hand over her mouth, but I realize she hasn’t moved.
Hasn’t parted those full lips to scream.
She’s just watching me.
I slide the window open as quietly as possible and boost myself up through it.
Lauren looks gorgeous, her pale legs all tangled up in the sheets and duvet. She’s in a pair of minuscule pajama shorts and a camisole with straps made of the tiniest strings I’ve ever seen. One swipe of my teeth, and I could slice right through them. Make that fabric fall away from her ripe breasts.
My dick gets rock hard.
She still hasn’t moved, even though I’m in her bedroom, stalking her in her own bed.
“What are you doing here?” It’s a whisper.
So fucking sweet. Like I have a right to be here. Like I’m not just the bully who has been harassing her since the first day of school.
Only because she doesn’t seem scared, because I don’t feel unwelcome, I climb up over her on the bed.
Even now, she doesn’t scream. Doesn’t hit me. Doesn’t push me away.
The scent of her arousal nearly makes me groan out loud.
Sweet, sweet human. I want to lick those juices from the source. Part her nether lips with the tip of my tongue and take my time learning how she likes it.
I straddle her hips and frame her head with my fists. “Promise me you won’t tell.”
Now she’s mad–same as she was in my vehicle. It’s like she’s offended by my lack of trust. Like I should believe in her fidelity to me and my secret.
She bucks her hips underneath me, which has the unfortunate effect of jostling my already swelling junk.
