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“Oh. Right. No. Sorry.”God, stop ogling him and string an entire sentence together.For a woman who hadn’t had sex in two years and hadn’t missed it, she suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“I need to go.” She waved at the doorway he was standing in. “To the bathroom.” Was her face red? It felt like it was. She’d just announced to the hot guy she’d spent part of the night—or maybe it was day—lying on that she had to pee. “Ignore me. I don’t make a lot of sense until I’ve had coffee.”
He prowled toward her. There was no other way to describe it. His movements were fluid and powerful, muscles bunching and relaxing. There was an alertness about him, a sense he could pounce any second.
The image of a giant white wolf taking down her attacker flashed in her brain. Devlin was more than a man. He was a living, breathing werewolf. While she’d understood that, it hadn’t seemed real until this moment.
Her heart kicked up a notch. He stopped halfway to her. The light that’d been in his eyes was extinguished, making them appear oddly flat. “I’ll go downstairs and start coffee. See what there is for breakfast.” He plucked his T-shirt off the floor and pulled it on. “Call if you need help navigating the stairs.”
Talk about running hot and cold. What had made him bolt?
She placed her hand on her chest, the beat of her heart drumming against her palm. Was it as simple as that? Had he detected her jolt of fear? Maybe heard her heartbeat increase? She had no idea what his abilities were. Everything she knew about werewolves came from books and movies, not reality. It was time she learned. Like it or not, she was now part of this hidden paranormal world that existed alongside humans.
She stumbled to the bathroom and used the facilities. As she washed her hands, she made a face at herself in the mirror. Not her best, but all things considered, not bad. She dug around the drawers and found a toothbrush still in its packaging.
She’d kissed him this morning…with morning breath. She groaned and grabbed the toothpaste. Too late now. Not that he’d seemed to mind. She sure as heck hadn’t noticed. As she brushed, she replayed the last scene with Devlin.
Had she hurt his feelings? Was such a thing even possible? Did he think she was afraid of him? She was but not in the way he likely thought. Not in a “he’s going to kill me” way, but in an “I could lose my heart to him” way. And that did scare her to death. He wasn’t human and she was. Talk about star-crossed lovers. From what she’d seen of his world, it was one of violence and chaos, the two things she’d vowed never to have in her life again after her tumultuous childhood.
“Way to go, Zoe.” She had a history of driving away anyone who got too close. It was a protective kneejerk reaction. Push them away before they could leave or push her away.
She owed him an apology, assuming she had hurt his feelings. Maybe it had nothing to do with her. Deciding caffeine was a bigger priority than a shower, she shuffled back to the bedroom. She couldn’t think. Not until she had coffee. Not wanting to go downstairs in no more than his shirt and panties, she dug out a pair of soft leggings and some socks.
Dressed, she headed for the stairs. Time to pull up her big-girl panties—metaphorically speaking—and take the bull by the horns. Or in this case, the wolf by the tail. She needed answers and he was the only one who could give them to her.
Gripping the rail, she followed her nose to the kitchen.
…
Devlin glanced toward the stairs for the dozenth time. “She doesn’t need you.” Focusing on the task at hand, he carefully spooned ground coffee into the filter, his actions controlled and measured.
He hated the dark smudges on her skin. They were a vivid reminder of the violence she’d endured, that she was human. A wolf would’ve already healed. A wolf wouldn’t have needed stitches in the first place.
He held his hands out in front of him and studied them. They’d trembled when he’d changed her bandage. That was a first. He was always rock-steady.
Had she noticed? Unlikely. It had been slight. Barely perceptible.
It had hit him with the force of an atomic bomb. Whether a natural attraction or helped along by magic, he was becoming both devoted to and possessive of Zoe—much like a wolf with a mate. That was dangerous to them both. Not to mention downright stupid with enemies tracking them. He needed to stay focused and keep his mind clear.
And that was on top of the local alphas, who were threatened by him, by the power he wielded. Oh, they were happy enough to call on him when they needed a rogue contained and taken down, but he’d never be welcome in their packs, even for a visit. They considered him a necessary evil.
Would an alpha join forces with a mage to try to defeat him? It boggled the mind to consider. There were centuries of enmity between the two groups. In Medieval times, dark mages had enslaved or slaughtered many of his kind. Most white mages led solitary lives or formed small covens, content with their studies. Wolves were pack animals, suspicious of outsiders. For any wolf to trust a dark mage was beyond his imagining.
A low growl escaped him. If the alphas or packs thought they could hurt Zoe to get to him, they were in for a rude awakening. He’d purposely kept a low profile, doing his job and moving on—had never seen the need to prove himself to anyone. That might have been a mistake. Perhaps they believed him weak.
He curled his lip and growled. Pressing his hands flat on the stone countertop, he took several slow breaths. The last thing she needed to face when she finally came downstairs was a rabid wolf.
If it was bloodshed they wanted, then bloodshed they’d get. It was time to dig in and root out answers. Some force had brought Zoe and him together—his lone wolf or magic. What he’d believed to be a simple hunt for a solitary rogue had turned into a full-blown conspiracy against the lone wolves. The ultimate hunter, he was eager to track down every lead until he uncovered the ones behind it. His wolf chuffed, eager to get started.
“Not yet,” he murmured. First, he needed every scrap of information he could get from Zoe. There might be details she could recall now that she’d rested and was no longer in shock.
He licked his lips and groaned when he tasted her there. Her skin had been like silk under his fingertips. The plumpness of her breasts against his chest, the heat of her core nestled against his groin, had been the sweetest kind of torture. She’d wanted him, plunging her tongue into his mouth, stroking his chest. And, God, the sounds she’d made—
Get your mind off sex.
It was off the table—for now, anyway. And all thinking about it did was make his dick throb and his balls ache. Not to mention his jeans felt as though they were shrink-wrapped on him.
Her heart rate had spiked when he’d come out of the bathroom after bandaging her wound. The vein in her neck had fluttered wildly. Subtle changes, unnoticeable by a human, but he was a wolf. Had she suddenly remembered that?
