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“Hey, watch it. You’re going to ruin my dress.” She swatted playfully at his nose then rubbed between his eyes until the green-gold fire of his gaze disappeared behind black fur. “Maybe I changed up too soon. I’d love to cuddle with you, buddy, but this outfit is not for cuddling.” She thought of Reardon. “Not for cuddling with wolves anyway.”
Cuddling with men could be accomplished in the dress, though. Cuddling out of the dress would be great too.
If the man, like, ever arrived.
Brandy looked at the clock on the TV again. 7:00. Surely, Reardon was on his way now. There’d be a soft knock on her door at any moment. She’d answer and have to look up—way up—to meet his unusual eyes. She’d greet him with a kiss. Or was that too forward?
I slept with him the first day I met him.What could be more forward than that? Too late to be shy.
So, yeah. She’d greet him with a kiss, feed him, and hopefully have an encore performance of last night’s activities.
A slow ripple of excitement flitted through her as she sat back on the couch. She’d wait for that knock and let another magical evening with her personal hot hero unfold.
****
Brandy’s lovely chest rose and fell as she dozed on the couch near Reardon’s bed. She’d taken a seat to wait for him in his human form. When he hadn’t shown after an hour, she’d rested her head against the back of the couch. She’d let a few curse words fly then closed her eyes. Asleep now for two hours, she hadn’t budged from her position.
He was a terrible person for standing her up, but it couldn’t be helped. The situation demanded he stay in wolf form. Nothing he could do about it. Plus, he was exhausted and angry and wishing he could take a bite out of Hank Swift. If it weren’t for that bastard, Reardon would be slow dancing on the patio with Brandy in his arms. Instead he was forced to merely watch her while his leg healed.
And what was an acceptable time for a bullet wound to heal when you were a werewolf? His battlefield injuries had never lasted long. A few days at most. His biggest scar on his left side across his ribs had been from a slash with a broad sword. That had taken three days to heal. If the ache in his leg now was any indication, this bullet wound would take about that long too.
How am I going to stay away from Brandy for that long in human form?
But he’d have to. Especially if she was planning to keep such a close watch over his wolf form and keep him in the house. No sneaking off under those conditions.
Not that he wanted to sneak off. Leaving Silver Moon Sanctuary was the last thing he wanted. He’d be quite content to live out his many years right there on that beautiful property. In the company of a beautiful woman and her beautiful son.
That wasn’t possible though, was it? Flidae had told him so. If he wanted Brandy and Dylan to be safe, he’d have to follow Flidae’s rules—do something worthy and go back to Ireland. How was he supposed to survive in his time now? He’d seen too many modern inventions. He’d come to understand how life worked in the future. He’d grown accustomed to the feel of life in this time, in this place, with these people. Going back to his Ireland would be like taking a million steps backward in time. Would he be able to stand that way of life?
Would he be able to go back to being a warrior, bent on killing for riches?
No.That Reardon McAlator was gone. Of that he was sure. He didn’t want to be a killer anymore. He didn’t want to be alone. What did he want instead?
He zoomed in on Brandy as she shifted on the couch and brought her toned legs up underneath her.
That’s what I want right there.
Brandy had taken him into her world, cared for him, shared her time with him. She showed the wolves the same affection she showed the important people in her life as if they were all her family. She didn’t see a distinction between people and wolves.
Which could work in his favor once he revealed what he was. Maybe she’d easily transfer her feelings for Alator, the wolf, to Reardon McAlator, the man.
And then I’ll have to leave her.
He let out a low grumble and huffed out some air. These thoughts were doing him no good. Neither was being on that bed. Immobile wasn’t something he did very often… or very well. Besides, Brandy was all the way over there on the couch. Too far away in his mind.
Gingerly, he got to his three good legs and stretched, careful to keep his injured leg from taking any of his weight. Moving at an embarrassing speed, Reardon maneuvered to the couch. He sniffed a line along Brandy’s leg and when she didn’t stir, he hoisted himself up onto the cushion beside her. He banged his hurt leg slightly and had to bite back a howl of pain.
Brandy still didn’t move, so he inched closer until he could rest his head on her hip. As soon as his chin touched her, however, her entire body jolted, scaring him. He reared back and fell off the couch, landing on his bad leg.
The howl ripped from his throat now.
“Oh my GOD!” Brandy popped off the couch and immediately got on her hands and knees beside him, not seeming to care about her dress now. “I’m so sorry, big boy.” She leaned over him, dropping kisses all over his muzzle and his ears, spending a few extra seconds on his damaged left ear. Gods, he loved when she touched that ear, as if she accepted him no matter his imperfections.
He sat still, hoping Brandy would keep kissing and touching him forever, but after checking on his wounded leg, she eventually got to her feet and brushed the wrinkles out of her dress.
“Well, I guess this is all the kissing that’s going to happen tonight.” She gestured at herself. “Perfectly good waste of a dress.”
Reardon wished he could tell her the dress had not been wasted. He’d enjoyed seeing her look so fantastic. Of course, she looked fantastic naked too. Really fantastic. He’d been looking forward to making love to her again tonight, hence why he’d jumped the fence in the first place. Being a wolfanda man had never been this difficult. His life was much simpler when he’d just been a warrior who paid little attention to weak-minded things such as feelings.
