Page 8 of Fated to Him

“Run, and you’ll force me to chase you,” he drawls.

Why does the thought of him chasing me steal all the air from my lungs?

His eyes darken, and I know the thought excites him as much as it does me.

“I don’t believe you.” Not about the chasing. That part is far too easy to believe. “The wolf. What you’re saying doesn’t make sense. It can’t be real.”

He lifts his hand.

I crack the back of my head on the wall behind me as I recoil, terrified at what he’s about to do to me.

He freezes, then slowly reaches into his pocket and tugs out a slim black cell phone. After typing for a few seconds, he flips it so I can see the screen. “The date.”

It's the daily news.

And sure enough, it’s Saturday, the day after Jerry stabbed me.

My eyes return to my belly. My perfectly unmarked belly.

“You bit me, and it healed me?” I stretch my fingers to investigate the source of this miraculous healing throat bite. There's no bite on my throat, just smooth skin. On both sides.

He tucks his cell phone away. “Like I said, I bit you. Now you’re like me. Your throat healed, too, by the way.”

I struggle to believe him. I don’t know how anyone could. But I try.

Last night, at the end of my shift, Jerry stabbed me. Then I watched a wolf tear out his throat and change into Malakhi Gabriel. Now he’s telling me he bit me, and not only did that bite heal me, I’m like him.

I’m a werewolf now.

My breath hitches. Werewolves are real. They’re real, and I’m one of them.

I shake my head. This can’t be happening. This isn’t?—

A large black-brown wolf bursts out of Malakhi, leaving a pile of shredded clothes on the hardwood floor.

I flatten my back against the wall as I stare at the wolf sitting on its haunches, not one foot away from me.

He leans toward me, blowing hot coppery breath over my face.

Whimpering, I briefly debate the merits of punching said wolf in the head and making a break for freedom before I reject it as suicidal.

Instead, I turn my face away and realize too late I’ve bared my throat to a wolf. Before I can correct my fatal mistake, the wolf drags a long, rough tongue up my throat.

I swallow my whimper. Not in terror, but because it felt good.

Too good.

The wolf sniffs, rumbles, and then leans in closer to repeat that same desire-inducing tongue-lapping.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, and do the same to my thighs.

He stops so suddenly that I hold still, waiting to learn what he’ll do next.

As I battle to steady my pounding heart, I jump when strong fingers grip my chin and angle my face to the front.

The wolf is gone. Malakhi is crouched naked in front of me, and he’s eyeing me as if I’m a piece of candy he’d like to demolish and go back for seconds.

He drags in a deep, rumbling breath, drawing my attention to his deeply tanned, muscled chest. From the heat filling his gaze, it’s clear he knows exactly what effect those rough licks had on me.

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