Page 17

Something hits me.

Not physically.

It’s a scent. Warm. Sweet. Rich. Delicious.

Cinnamon.

I inhale again.

Honey..

My mouth waters.

There's something else beneath it. Something lush and earthy that reminds me of a ripe Brandywine heirloom sliced thick and drizzled with extra virgin olive oil.

Fuck.

That's—I breathe deeper.

My wings flare. My tail goes rigid. Every muscle in my body tightens.

The scent slides into my lungs and sinks straight into my blood.

My Devil surges.

Need.

My heart pounds.

Want.

Heat races beneath my skin.

“What the fuck?”

I follow the scent around the side of my house. It gets stronger.

Cinnamon.

Honey.

Woman.

My mouth actually fucking waters. Then I see her. And I forget how to fucking breathe.

She's standing in front of Margarita's old house with a suitcase at her feet and an orange cat carrier beside it.

Gloriously curvy.

Thick.

Beautiful.

Dark hair frames a face dominated by enormous brown eyes fringed with thick lashes. Her lips are full and soft, made for smiling. Or sinning.

My gaze drops before I can stop it. Her breasts are bountiful. Her waist barely indents before sweeping into lush hips.

And her ass—fuck me. Her ass is phenomenal.