My insides clench, my nerves tingle, and my head gets hot. Is the reaction leftover anger from yesterday? Partly. But it’s alsohard to ignore how much my body responds to his proximity. An inappropriate, unapproved level of want.
My brain knows he’s an asshole, but my gut wants me to duct tape his mouth shut, then strip off his clothes and have my way with him.
I need to get laid, I decide.By a human man, preferably.
Even though I don’t feel a physical threat from the werewolf, I still grab hold of my baseball bat on the way to the door.
Last time we spoke, Roderick pissed me off. No need to be neighborly if he’s just here to poke and prod and judge, like he’s been doing since the first day I met him.
“What do you want?” I demand before I’m done opening the door.
Roderick, looking way too good in his jeans and white T-shirt that stretch tight over heavy muscles, holds up something between us.
The porch light illuminates a beautiful golden-brown pie.
“I’m not here to fight with you.” He repeats the words I threw at him yesterday as his lips twitch.
He brought dessert.
My stomach growls, and I try not to blush. The cool night air nips at my skin, and I regret not bringing my blanket with me for this chat.
I should send him on his way. Take the pie and slam the door in his face.
But I guess I like to torture myself a little bit.
“Come in.” With my bat, I point toward the kitchen, even though Roderick already knows the layout of my house. Best to remind him I’m not some helpless woman.
After shutting the door behind him and reprogramming my alarm, I find Roderick hovering by my kitchen table, eyes tracking each of my movements as I approach.
“If you’re not here to fight with me, why are you here?”
Instead of answering, he extends a folded scrap of paper. Hesitantly, I reach out and take it, leaning my bat against my thigh so I can unfold the thing. Six words are scrawled on the sheet that’s obviously been torn from a random notebook.
Dear Juliet,
I am sorry.
—Roderick
I choke on a scoff. “You callthisa card? I crafted yours by hand!”
He tilts his head in a wolf-like gesture as he studies me. Then he shrugs. “Best I could do. I’m here to apologize.”
I snort. “You’ve finally figured out something to apologize for? Realized you’re not the pinnacle of perfection?”
He grimaces. “I don’t think I’m perfect.”
“Certainly think you’re better than me.”
But why should that surprise me? Didn’t I learn my lesson in Bear Valley? The pack doesn’t only hold themselves separate from humans, but above us.
“I don’t.” Roderick’s gaze is fierce. “Wolves are not better than humans,” he says, the words eerily close to what I was thinking. “Just different.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his short hair. “But it would make me more comfortable if I at least knew how you found out about my kind. That’s what has me on edge.”
My initial urge is to keep my mouth shut or to continue arguing my point. But then I’m forced to recall the reason that I offered up my apology in the first place. Roderick exiled his own mother because she’d hurt a human.
Maybe Roderick is telling the truth. Maybe he deserves a little sliver of mine.
“I know about werewolves because I dated one.”
