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“Try what?”
“I’m going to turn that water into wine. We’ll have our own private party at the party.” Hazel grinned mischievously.
Chapter Two
When Drake returned to his apartment, his breathing was erratic. Every lover he’d ever taken in his life was insignificant next to Hazel. He never misled women about his intentions -- his wolf nature demanded he give in to his baser appetites from time to time -- but he’d never even considered taking a woman for more than a pleasurable evening or two.
Until now.
As it was, Drake hadn’t been able to think about anything other than the tight little body downstairs, and how many times he could take her in one evening before they both passed out. He hated himself for that, but he’d learned long ago that he could only fight the beast so long. Now, Hazel had definitely gotten under his skin, at least as far as his physical need was concerned. He had a feeling that, given time, he’d find a whole other side to her. One he was loath to let go.
He sighed. Who was he kidding? He already didn’t want to let her go. Now, he was stuck going to this absurd little get together. One more thing to prove he was becoming obsessed with her.
He hated parties.
Everyone was loud, obnoxious, and smelled funny. It wasn’t so bad when everyone was drunk. At least they had a reason for being annoying. But this party would have all the un-pleasantries without means for him to dull his senses if necessary. And he wassureit would be necessary.
Hazel might not be a witch, but she had sure bewitched him.
Drake dressed from throat to toe in black leather -- a black, floor-length cape graced his shoulders. Should he lose control tonight, he would at least have a way to hide himself. His shifting abilities were completely unpredictable during a blue moon. With this being Halloween as well, that problem doubled.
Oh well, he’d just have to do the best he could. He was an alpha werewolf, leader of his pack. He could handle a little full moon magic -- just as he had done all his adult life.
The party was held in the penthouse where the owner of the building, Irma Price, resided. Drake held his breath as he knocked on the door. Letting it out, he inhaled gingerly. Up until this moment, Drake thought that concoction of Hazel’s was the foulest thing he had ever smelled. When Mrs. Price opened the door, however, he discovered how wrong he was.
Everyone in this particular building was at least sixty. He wasn’t a physician, but he knew that with age, some of the senses dulled, particularly eyesight and hearing. Now, Drake was convinced the sense of smell dulled as well. Dramatically. Otherwise, everyone in that room would be wearing gas masks.
The instant Mrs. Price opened the door, he was assaulted by a sickly sweet, slightly musky, floral, and overpowering perfume. The smell got into his nose and simply wouldn’t be vanquished. The last thing he wanted to do was touchanyonein that room, but when Mrs. Price offered her hand, he smiled, gritted his teeth and took it.
“Drake! I’m so glad you made it.” Mrs. Price ushered him in. He cringed inwardly when she slipped an arm around his waist under his cape. The short, portly woman went about making sure everyone in the room knew of his arrival. It wasn’t long before he was surrounded by little old women with blue hair, all of them fussing over him, all of them touching him. At one point he wassuresomeone grabbed his ass, and more than one hand brushed against his crotch.
And he wascoveredin old woman perfume.
He was about to leave when he caught another scent underneath everything else.Roses and mint. Hazel was here.
He turned slowly, scanning the faces in the room until he found her. She wasn’t a witch, she was a siren! She drew him to her like a moth to a flame, and he was powerless against her pull. His fangs lengthened, his heart rate increased and his claws itched to explode from his fingertips. He wasn’t sure he could prevent a shift and knew that, as the night progressed, it would only get worse.
He shouldn’t be here. The blue moon combined with his lust for Hazel was an explosive combination. Something a true witch would understand.
He was about to disengage himself from his admirers and leave when Hazel spotted him, as well. Her smile was enough to brighten the whole building. Looked like leaving right now was out of the question. He had to see her, smell her. He wanted to strip her out of that fuck-me dress and taste every inch of her body, drown in her sweetness and wholesomeness until nothing else mattered.
He excused himself, pushed aside the groping hands, and made his way to her. She was absolutely stunning, and incredibly sexy. The animal in him wanted to fuck her until his lust was sated. The man in him wanted to savor her, convince her to come back for more. All of him wanted to make her his own.
When he took her hand in greeting, he inhaled deeply. “You smell different.”
She blushed prettily. “I should certainly hope so. I stank.”
“Yes,” he replied, not trying to hide his amusement, “you did.”
They both chuckled.
“I like your costume.” She was trying not to get caught looking him over, but he noticed.
Using the opportunity to take a closer look at her, Drake let his gaze rest on her breasts before moving down to her tiny waist and generous hips. “Yours isn’t bad either, Hazel.”
Drake let the silence build as they stood there. When Hazel began to fidget, he took her elbow gently and ushered her to the balcony. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
She breathed a relieved sigh. “Thanks. I think I’m about to drown in old woman perfume.”
