Page 6 of Bewitching the Wolf

He passed a hand over his brow, frowning.

I waited. And waited.

Finally, he said, “Jax—S-Sum—Summers.”

“Well, Jax,” I said briskly, “you need to quit smoking, or it will kill you.”

He just stared at me. Up close, he had the thickest, darkest lashes, and his skin was almost translucent over his high cheekbones. His mouth, framed by a short dark scruff, was full, sensual, almost sulky.

And then his eyes flared with something like recognition.

My knees went weak, and a strange syrupy warmth spread low in my belly.

Almost immediately though, his face blanked. “I don’t care,” he said in a flat voice and turned away.

A sharp pain churned in my chest. I felt his hurt, his pain, even if he couldn’t. Without a word, I turned and headed back the way I’d come.

After that, I spent days working on quit-smoking elixirs, wondering why I should care about a stupid peripheral’s health. Why the heck I wanted to save him so badly.

I mean, he was a human, one of our enemies.

It made no sense. But still, I kept going.

I took those little bottles to the demountable office outside the portal elevators where he worked.

I left them by the door.

He ignored them.

I came the next day and took them away.

Sometimes he would stare at me blankly, sometimes his gaze would rest on me for a moment longer and I imagined I saw that spark once more in his green eyes. A spark that set my soul on fire in a way I couldn’t explain.

And then one day, he just disappeared.

I didn’t see him for weeks.

When he finally returned, he was covered in scars. On his arms, his neck. It looked like he’d been savaged by some huge beast.

But there was something else that was different. Jax Summers looked at me—really looked at me. As if he finally saw me, Tippy Honeywell.

A few days later, we started to talk. And I don’t mean the monosyllables I’d gotten out of him before. This was a real interaction. Okay, it wasn’t much, just jokes and banter, but it was light, it was fun…

I’m ashamed to say, I was smitten.

It was ridiculous how Jax Summers inhabited my thoughts. My dreams, even.

And most of them were X-rated.

Jax Summers chasing me through dark alleys. Jax Summers catching me. Jax Summers pressing me against the wall and kissing me, pushing up my skirt and stroking between my legs.

When I woke, I placed a finger in the sacred place between my thighs and felt the wetness of arousal. I knew this was what females felt in heat. Sure, I’d had stirrings before, but nothing remotely like this.

I had no personal knowledge of carnal pursuits because… well, confession time…

I’m a virgin. A prerequisite for wixens in the first year of our training.

During this time, a wixen does not indulge in sexual relations. It’s not a moral thing, we’re not prudes. It’s just best not to waste our energy on carnal pursuits while we study the runes and devote ourselves to inventing elixirs and potions.