Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Nothing would be more sad than me getting claimed by some wolf from my high school and staying here the rest of my life. Giving up on all my dreams. Satisfying my parents’ idea of a future for me.
“Ugh, no,” I mutter as I turn on the water and step into the shower. I hold my head under the spray and try to forget how magnificent Asher looked naked. That glorious broad chest and shoulders. The light dusting of tawny curls over his tanned skin. He’s incredible.
Sex with him is so different than it was with Andy–my college roommate–or even with the guys I hooked up with during the full moon runs in high school. He’s crazy dominant, which turns me on. A little mean. Also, a turn-on. I might need to examine that. But even with the meanness, the growls and spanks, underneath it all, Asher is a considerate lover. He’s completely in tune with me. Paced to my pleasure. He knows what I need and how to give it. If he denies me pleasure, that’s purposeful, too.
It’s night and day different from Andy’s self-absorption or the intense but awkward and fumbled efforts of my teenage lovers.
Asher may be younger than I am, but he fucks like a man. A real man.
Oh Fate. I’m falling for him.
I do not want to fall for this guy.
I shampoo and condition my hair, shave my legs, underarms, and between my legs, and step out of the shower. My stomach growls as I dry off. Despite the three and half sandwiches I ate last night, I’m hungry again.
Crap. Asher probably used up the last of the bread and cheese for the grilled cheese sandwiches last night, which means there’s nothing for my breakfast or to pack for lunch.
Maybe if I’m lucky, someone brought donuts to the staff room. Not that donuts are what Dr. Oakley recommended to nourish my wolf.
I exit the bathroom and get dressed then open the refrigerator door to see what I can scrounge.
“Oh!” I stare in shock at the food there. Milk. Eggs. Bread. Bacon. Sandwich meat.
Tears prick my eyes. I haven’t felt this cared for since I graduated high school.
It’s just biology, my logical brain insists. He doesn’t care.
But this took thought. Asher came back in the middle of the night or while I was in the shower this morning. He had to get up early, go to the store, buy food, and bring it here. He does care.
Even angry. Even hating me for what I did, he still cares about my well-being.
My stomach growls again. I uncap the milk with shaky fingers and start guzzling it down, desperate for the calories and the protein. I start to look for scissors or a knife to open the package of bacon, and then my wolf takes over. I rip the stiff plastic open with my fingers. Easily! My shifter strength is returning.
There’s no time to fry the bacon, so I press four pieces between several folded paper towels and microwave them while I fry four eggs in a pan and make a quick meat and cheese sandwich for lunch.
The whole time there’s a warmth in my chest that won’t go away.
Some of that heaviness that’s been in my limbs for ages is gone. And it’s not just about the wolf strength. It’s emotional.
I tear up again. I haven’t had that sense of connectedness in such a long time.
Humans aren’t like pack. I had friends in college–lots. But I had to keep my guard up, I couldn’t reveal my secret to anybody, and that made me shun close relationships. I stayed in groups. I didn’t get tight with any one person.
That’s probably why I chose such a self-involved guy as Andy as my fuck-boy in the first place. I needed someone who would never look too closely at me.
Artist-me slams a wall down on the emotion.
I can’t get stuck in Wolf Ridge. Wolf life is not my future–I belong in the city for my art.
Wolf-me ignores all that. I grab the bacon from the microwave, crush it into the eggs, and eat straight from the skillet.
The whole time, there’s a wag in my tail.
And since Andy crossed my mind, I decide to follow up on that gallery meeting. I shoot him a text.
When are you coming? Any luck getting me a meeting?
He texts back,
Next week. I got a pimp suite at a resort. Can’t wait to see you in a bikini.
Oh. Ew. Ugh.
Not happening
I text back.
I’m seeing someone here.
I have to tell him I’m not available. Asher and I have an agreement. He’s not my boyfriend, but we have an undeniable biological bond. Even if I was interested in screwing Andy–which I’m absolutely not–I can’t mess with nature. Asher’s wolf believes I belong to him, which means he would fight any other male to the death over me.