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His words spike between my legs.Gorgeous ass.Damn, he’s the one with a gorgeous ass.It’s delectable in those jeans, and I’m willing to bet he’s going commando too.Unless he keeps extra underwear around for any unforeseen shifting.
“What’s with the bomb thing?”I ask.“You’ll lose a shitload of money, shutting down the casino for a few hours.”
His eyes darken as he gestures around his multi-million dollar kitchen.“Do I look like I need any more money?”
“Why do it, then?”
“Why else?So you could come in here unimpeded and find what you’re looking for.”
I raise my eyebrows.“Maybe I already did, Rogan.Maybe I’m looking for you.”
He closes the short distance between us, trails a finger over the swell of my breasts.“We both know Daddy sent you here, princess.”
“I never said—”
“Please.Give me a little credit.”His finger travels over my nipple, making it even harder than it already is.“I haven’t seen you anywhere near the blackjack or roulette tables.”
I swallow, summoning all my strength not to shudder at his touch.“Tell me.Tell me what made you change.”
He narrows his eyes, and I can’t tell whether it’s anger or passion clouding them.
“I don’t talk about the change,” he says, “especially to impudent little half-vamps.”
I force myself to take a step backward.“Impudent?You want to go there?After you told that moron Blaze Delacourt that I wasn’t worth the effort?”
“I say a lot of things.”Rogan steps toward me.“And there’s a reason for every one of them.”
“For someone who thinks I’m his fated mate, you sure treat me like a piece of shit.”
“And you, princess, have always treated me with the utmost respect.”Sarcasm laces his tone, and he scoffs.
I inhale, trying to calm my own blood racing through my veins while I can’t help but hear his, along with the racing of his heart.“I’m not the one who thinks we’re fated.”
“Don’t you?”He edges closer until my clothed breasts are brushing his bare chest.“Face it, princess.You feel it too.Don’t even try to deny it.”
Damn, his blood.I just fed from the bag in his fridge, but it doesn’t matter.Rogan’s blood calls to me like nothing else.
“I know you want it,” he says, his voice a sexy growl.He reaches toward my cheek— “Damn it!Not again!”He rushes out of the kitchen, out of the penthouse, and this time…
This time…
I listen.
And I hear it.The crunching of his bones, the tearing of his muscles.
And the howl… The piercing howl.
Such pain he must endure each time he changes.And with me, he can’t control it.
This is what it means to be a fated mate to a wolf?He has no control around me?It’s one thing to want me, to ache for me the way I ache for him.The way I yearn for his blood.
My God…
I rush back to the kitchen and drain the rest of the blood from the bag in the refrigerator.I tilt my head back, pour it down my throat, and it drips down my cheeks, my neck.
I throw the empty bag on the counter and look around.
Worry scratches at the back of my neck.Worry for Rogan.Damn it!I don’t want to worry about that damned wolf!I’m here for a reason.
