Page 18 of The Kill

Brushy tail wagging and a self-satisfied bounce in his step, he’s the least threatening feral wolf I’ve ever seen. Looking back at Tyson, his hands on his hips, head tilted back and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he stares at the ceiling.

“So, that’s the feral rogue?” I lift my cup to my lips. “Absolutely terrifying. You’re right; clearly, I should be very concerned about him. Maybe if I stock up on pastries, he won’t eat me alive.”

Tyson scowls at the amusement in my voice.

“It’s the food… he’s not always…” Tyson scrambles and it’s pleasing to watch. Finally, he shrugs. “He’s not normally like that.” When I nod and give him a small smile, it seems to irritate Tyson more. “He’s not. You’ll see.”

Deciding to give him a break, I let my gaze wander around the ornate room, the long, deep-red curtains, and the wrought iron light fittings. Everything is dark and luxurious, rich and sumptuous. Normally I like bright and airy décor, but the drama of my surroundings is growing on me.

“So, what do we do now, Tyson? Now that you have me where you want me, what are you planning to do?”

His eyes flash and my heartbeat picks up as we both think the same thing. This isn’t even close to where he wants me. Or where I want to be. Before the scorching heat between us sets the tablecloth alight, I push to my feet and drift toward the window.

“Can we go for a run? My wolf wants to get her bearings.” And you won’t let me out on my own, I want to add, but decide that antagonising him at every turn isn’t going to get us anywhere.

Tyson’s eyes light up. “I’d love to run with you.” His tone is hushed, and I turn, our eyes locking. He looks so happy. My knee-jerk urge is to tell him that it’s not about wanting to run with him but about being safe; looking at his delighted expression, saying it would be like kicking a puppy.

And the truth is, my wolf really does want to meet his. No funny business, I warn her as we move toward the back door. She’s so excited about this that I’m worried she’ll offer herself to him the second I shift.

The tall trees sheltering the rear of the property cast cool shadows across the exposed deck. Shifters are used to nudity, normally it means nothing to us and we’re not embarrassed about stripping off, but this is my mate. It feels different.

Unabashed, Tyson’s stare holds a challenge as he pins me with his unusual eyes. Reaching one arm back over his shoulder, he grabs a fistful of material and yanks his black t-shirt over his head in one smooth movement. I blink, knowing that if I move at all, if I break eye contact, my gaze will go straight to his sculpted chest, the rippling abs I can see in my peripheral vision, and down that dark line I know leads into his jeans.

Tyson’s belt clinks as he opens it, pops the top button, and lowers his fly.

A hint of a smile pulls at the edges of his mouth as he bends at the waist and pulls off his heavy boots. While he sets them to the side, neatly shoving his socks into each one, I stare transfixed at the way the muscles in his broad back flex and bunch with each movement.

My fingers itch to touch him and the impulse to run my hands from his big shoulders down along his spine while he’s doubled over, into the top of his now-loose jeans, is overwhelming.

When he straightens, I jump back, unable to stop the pink that spreads across my cheeks. His smug smile tells me he knows I was taking the opportunity to perve on him.

“You can look all you want, little mate.” Hooking his thumbs into the sides of his jeans, he pushes them down and steps out in one swift movement. Keeping my attention fixed firmly on his face, I attempt to ignore the bobbing length that now stands to attention between us. It’s impossible though, to pretend it’s not there, his erection, long and thick, pointing right at me. “You can do more than look.”

I can’t bring myself to look, but I see his arm move once, up and down. Fuck, did he just stroke his cock? Swallowing hard, a needy whimper escapes me as he inches closer, his manly smell heavy in the air and his nakedness frying my brain.

“Your turn,” he whispers, thick and husky.

I shiver. Does he mean it’s my turn with his cock? My wolf is ready for us to roll over. Or maybe drop to our knees to taste the cum I can already smell leaking from his hard cock. Scary gothic mansion in the woods and vampire tendencies be damned. This is fate.

My mouth opens and closes, opens and closes.

“Mandy? It’s your turn to strip.”

Strip! Fuck, yes! That’s what he meant. I shake my head and blink, trying to clear the trance those hypnotic ruby eyes have me under.

“Well, turn around then,” I snap, flustered and frustrated. One eyebrow raised, as though he knows I’m fighting to remain composed here, he turns, slowly, oh-so-slowly, and stands as proudly as any man showing his ass to a woman for the first time ever has.

I bite my lip, sinking my teeth in until it’s painful to stifle another groan. It’s perfect.

I want to dig my nails into his firm flesh, marking him in some way. Instead, I act like someone who hasn’t lost their mind, pulling off my leggings and vest quickly, stashing them with my underwear on a bench at the back door. Watching Tyson twitch and fidget, his fingers flexing at his sides as he battles the impulse to turn and look his fill. We’re mates after all.

“Ready?” he asks, voice low and gravelly. Oh, he’s a man on the edge alright. He turns and then, when he sees I haven’t shifted yet, curses, more a pained grunt than actual words. His dark hair falls into his eyes as his heated gaze travels over every inch of my body, licking a scorching path over my exposed skin.

“You’re even more incredible than I remember.”

11

MANDY

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