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I grit my teeth. Fuck. I’ve always hated that I blush so easily. Hate that I feel embarrassed about this at all!
I cross my arms. “Fine, you want to know what I did? I let Jules kiss me, and then stopped it when things became too heated and I became a little overwhelmed. And if Jules was a good guy, he would’ve been okay with it. But he got all pissed off and told me to leave.”
“Well, first off, Jules isn’t a guy—he’s a werewolf—and you really should stop referring to him as one.” Shade folds his arms across his solid chest. “And secondly, he’s a werewolf.”
“Yeah, I got your point the first time. I don’t know why you had to point it out twice. I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not, but you don’t understand a lot about our kind.”
“Okay, then explain it to me. Stop tiptoeing around whatever it is you don’t want to say.”
He gives me a cocky grin. “I’m trying to keep that pretty blush on your cheeks from getting more out of hand.”
I carry his gaze despite the increasing temperature of my face. “Just tell me.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs. “Jules sent you away so he could calm down his wolf that your little kiss unleashed inside him. He’s probably beating the shit out of a tree right now to get rid of all the sexual tension bursting inside his body.”
Yep, flames, flames, flames burning hotly across my cheeks.
“That seems like a stupidly barbaric thing to do just because I asked him to stop kissing me.”
He gives a shrug. “Like I pointed out a bunch of times, we’re werewolves, which means we’re part animal and more barbaric.”
A cold trickle shoots up my spine, and Shade more than notices my squirrely-ness.
“Lake, he would never hurt you,” he promises. “Jules isn’t like that. Most werewolves aren’t.”
“But not all.” It’s not a question.
“No, sadly not.” He doesn’t even bother lying to me, and I’m kind of grateful for his honesty, even if his words make me want to puke. “But we do have laws in our pack that protect werewolves from hurting others.” He offers me a small smile. “I promise you, you’re safe here.”
“I hope so.” I picture Jules back down the trail, bashing his bloody fists against a tree after I just convinced him to get rid of those damn rings. “Maybe Jules and I shouldn’t kiss anymore. I mean, if it’s that big of a deal, he should probably just kiss another werewolf.” Who’s a bit more mentally stable.
“Yeah … that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? I’m sure there’s a ton of other werewolves who’d love to kiss him without stopping.” Although, the idea of him kissing another werewolf does make my heart sting.
“You’re blushing again,” he teases then sighs when I scowl at him. “Look, I’m glad you’re concerned for him, but Jules isn’t going to find another werewolf.”
“I highly doubt that. There’s no way he’s only going to want me forever.”
“Doubt it all you want. You’re just living in denial.”
I shake my head, doing exactly what he implied. “I’m not living in denial. I just know that Jules is attractive and seems pretty sweet when he’s not having a temper tantrum.” Plus, he’s a really good kisser, but I’m not about to say that aloud. “And I’m sure, if he tried, he could find someone way better to kiss than me.”The broken werewolf princess who fears her own kind.
“And again, I stress: you’re living in denial,” he says. I open my mouth to protest, but he talks over me. “Because what you’re saying can never happen, will never happen, and hasn’t ever happened.”
“Do you know that werewolves love forever, too? We’re not immortal or anything, but we love just as fiercely as vampires do. Maybe even more so,”Jules had said to me.
“Wait. Are you saying Jules has never …?” I can’t even finish the sentence.
Shade nods. “Jules has never been with anyone else. Never wanted anyone else. Never had one of those drunken nights where you get faerie wine goggles and end up going home with what you think is a werewolf. But come the next morning, you realize you’re snuggled up in bed with apixie.” He hisses the last part with astounded shame.
“I thought pixies were supposed to be pretty?”
“Wolves no. They’re not even close. And they have a lot of strange sexual fetishes that …” He shudders, eyes wide. “Anyway”—he clears his throat—“never sleep with a pixie. Not just for Jules’ sake, but to protect your innocent mind from very dirty things.”
“Okay.” I try not to think about the alleyway, but the memories consume my mind. “You do have me really curious what a pixie looks like.”
