Juliet changed since I left. The devious librarian wears a pair of polka-dot shorts that are no better than underwear and a tight white T-shirt. As the cold of the night brushes her chest, I watch as her nipples harden through the fabric.
She’s not wearing a bra.
Our mate is ready for us, my wolf happily announces.
Shut the hell up, I silently mutter back, trying to bring order to my thoughts.
So what if she’s a few scraps of fabric away from being undressed? Juliet Adair knows about werewolves.
Also, she has a wooden baseball bat in her hand, her knuckles white with a tight grip. Did she grab the weapon before or after she realized I was her visitor?
“Why didn’t you use the camera I installed?” I growl.
Her face goes blank for a second, and then she curses under her breath. “I forgot. Next time.” Juliet studies my face, eyes sharp. “Are you here to hurt me?”
The question hits like a blow, strong enough to set me off-balance. I take a step back.
“I don’t prey on the weak,” I huff.
Her mouth twists in a snarl that somehow makes her face prettier than before.
Want to hear her growl.
I don’t think it’ll take much.
Juliet sucks in a deep breath through her nose, then smooths her expression on an exhale and leans her shoulder against the doorframe, grip now deceptively loose on the bat. With the shift of her position, the librarian’s face comes under the full shine of the porch light. There’s a puffy red quality to the skin under her eyes that wasn’t there when I left earlier.
“Have you been crying?” The idea twists my gut for an unknown reason.
Juliet scowls. “I was cutting onions.”
I don’t smell onions.
Still, I file the topic away to be discussed later. There’s important information I need to discover.
“You know what I am.” There’s no question in my voice, but I wait for her response all the same.
Juliet tilts her head, considering me. Likely deciding if she’ll finally tell the truth. Or at least the part that suits her.
“I know what you are.” She dips her chin an inch, keeping her focus on me.
Good. Her eyes should always be on me.
Because I’m not to be overlooked or underestimated, obviously. There’s no other reason I want her attention.
I stiffen my spine and square my shoulders, willing her to spill the secrets she’s kept behind all her innocent smiles. “What else do you know?”
“About werewolves?”
Hearing her say the word sends a sharp—not completely unpleasant—tingle down my spine.
“Yes. Tell me everything you know.”
Juliet bobs her head back and forth, as if weighing items in her skull. “I’ll tell you some things I know.”
“Everything,” I growl back.
“Somethings.” She smirks, like she holds all the power in this situation. “Or nothing. Your choice.”
