Page 13 of Laken's longing

I have the answer, you're scared of your feelings.

Give the fuck over.

Whatever. Scaredy cat.

He rose and stomped the short distance to the window, looking out at Paris. It was as beautiful as the sun set, the buildings twinkling with lights along with the Eiffel tower. Laken found no joy in it when Isley was out therehaving fun without him.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood brooding at the window, searching the crowded streets for a glimpse of Isley, before his phone alerted to a message. He went and retrieved it from the ornate coffee table and groaned in distress at seeing Louis’s name.

Louis:I’m in the foyer. What room number are you, I’ll come up.

“No you won’t!” Laken grabbed his suit jacket and quickly marched out of the room, heading to the elevators. Once inside, he pushed his phone into his trouser pocket and slipped his jacket on, tugging on his cuffs to straighten the shirt beneath. He ran his hands through his hair, then stepped out into the lobby, his gaze sweeping over those milling around to find Louis.

He sighed heavily at the effort the other man had obviously gone to. Dressed all in black, there was nothing staid about the outfit. A tight, slinky shirt revealed the slender chest beneath. Painted on trousers highlighted everything the man had to offer. He’d even smudged black eyeliner around his eyes, giving him a sultry look. One Laken could appreciate it, the same as he could the sun warming his skin. It wasn’t essential to him, just nice. Essential was a tiny terror who had left him all alone.

“There you are,” Louis murmured huskily, slipping his arm through Laken’s and guiding his unwilling ass outside. His free hand fluttered like the wings of a bird as he spoke about where they were headed and the secluded booth he’d arranged for dinner.

“You shouldn’t have gone to all this effort.” Laken’s gut churned at the thoughts of a full evening trying to make conversation and steer away from the overt behavior that implied Laken could be dessert.

“It’s no effort at all.” The smile was predatory, and Laken searched the streets.

Where was Isley?

It was less than four minutes on foot to the restaurant. White, that was Laken’s first impression while Louis spoke in French to the Maître D’. The furniture and the table coverings were all white, as were the walls. Black and white framed photographs graced the walls. He supposed to some it would come across as romantic, but to him it was pretentious and cold.

He followed behind Louis, who had no choice but to let go of his arm to thread through the tables, which were nearly all full, to get to a booth that overlooked where the chef was cooking. There was no chair to escape to, leaving no option but to slide onto the padded white leather after Louis, who immediately plastered himself against Laken’s side.

His wolf growled in his head.Get him off us. I don’t like his smell, it's all wrong.

Laken had to agree; his preference was for citrus and cinnamon. The cloying scent Louis wore was more like rotten milk to his nose. He inched apart and took the menu from the Maître D’, attempting to use it as a barrier.

It worked while they were waiting to order their food, but there was only so long he could delay. The second Laken put it down, Louis was back. He scrambled to come up with something that wouldn’t sound harsh but still get Louis to back off. Isley was to blame for deserting him. He had never been any good at this, not having done much dating—as in, none.

He brought a hand up to run it through his hair in frustration when out of the corner of his eye he saw something small flying through the air and then hit the center of his palm. Automatically, he closed his fingers around it then jolted at the feel of warm, silky fur rubbing against his skin and the realization that the tiny critter wasIsley.

The scent was too familiar to deny the truth.Holy shit!

How did he know where to find them? Laken was at a loss. How the hell did he get in the restaurant in his shifted form? Laken hadn’t seen the door open since they’d arrived.

Laken didn’t know what to do when tiny fingers wiggled through his and wrapped around his index finger and clung on in the most adorable way.

It’s not adorable.

He lost all train of thought when something sticky on the tiny feet stroked against his palm and sent a shot of desire through him. Self-consciously, he placed his hand in his lap, shaking it to get Isley off. Unfortunately, those fingers were more effective than a pair of metal handcuffs keeping them together.

“—can I persuade you?”

Laken glanced at Louis in confusion, unsure how long he’d been trying to get Isley to let go. “Pardon?”

Louis wore a sulky pout. “You hurt my feelings, am I boring you?”

Yes,his animal stated.

“No, I’m just feeling a little off. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cut the evening short. Please accept my apologies.” Laken rose, shoving the hand holding Isley into his trouser pocket and sliding out from behind the table.

Big fucking mistake. His dick took instant notice of how close Isley now was to it, and his nose was still full of Isley’s delicious aroma. He was so fucked right now when Louis’s predatory gaze dropped, and he licked his lips as if preparing to eat Laken for dinner.

So not happening.