Page 13 of Siren in the Rain

“I said, get the fuck away from me, Wolf Boy!”

His handsome tanned face is downright radiant as he stares up at me from the floor. I have to squint because it’s kind of blinding.

“I’m Griffin McIntyre and I’m a Wolfkin. Shae Silverstorm, my sweet mate, I’m so happy we’ve found each other.”

He’s got freaking hearts in his eyes and they’re practically shooting rays of happiness at me.

Who the hell is this guy?

And why does he smell so fucking good? Like sunshine, saltwater, and coconuts.

“May I touch your hand?” he asks, boring holes into all my defenses with the deadliest pair of puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen.

I start to pull away and his ears droop, which evidently is all it takes for me to give in.

“Fine. For just a second,” I grumble.

When he gently takes hold of my hand, instead of tensing up the way I thought I would, my body instantly relaxes. My skin tingles pleasantly, and a little zing of awareness races through me. His touch feels just as good as he smells, dammit. I ignore it and focus instead on the fact that I’m much calmer than I was a few moments ago. Even the constant low-grade pain in my body seems duller than usual.

No. It’s just my imagination.

Then I’m able to process what he just told me, and I scowl. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not the mate of some weirdo Furry.”

Unbothered by my response, he starts sniffing in the general direction of my hair, sighing dreamily. “Yes, you are. My nose is never wrong about these things. Also, I’m not a Furry, although there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m a Wolfkin.” He points to himself with a toothy grin. “My ears and tail are real.”

Fucking hell.

The fluffy ears and tail are too damn cute, especially on a guy who looks like a total himbo surfer dude.

He’s dressed, rather aptly, in board shorts and a tight-fitting tank top that shows off broad shoulders and sleek bronze arms dusted with golden hair. He’s basically a sun-kissed blond from head to tail.

With the hair, the ears, and the tail, I swear he’s like this big, wholesome golden retriever of a man. But damn his sexy-as-sin physique that I’m definitely not getting distracted by.

His tail flaps behind him in rhythmic time as his big hand starts to… pet me.

I freeze. “Uh… what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m petting you like a good boy,” Wolf Boy croons as he strokes my hand. “It’ll make you feel better.” He sighs happily as he stares at me starry-eyed. “Your hair’s so pretty. You’re so pretty.”

I should pull away, but the petting makes me strangely… warm inside, and he’s only doing it to my hand. It’s been so long since I was touched with any kind of care. Part of me wants to close my eyes and just sink into these sensations.

But I’m still uneasy and my flight instinct is on high alert.

Could these weirdos somehow be working for Margaret and my father? I’ve only just managed to escape, and I can’t go back. Not now. Not ever.

I’d rather die first.

How the fuck do I know if I can trust these people?

Upon hearing Wolf Boy’s ridiculous words, Haku, who’s been hiding in my hair this whole time, finally decides to emerge, hissing and blowing smoke out of his nostrils.

He’s quite territorial when it comes to me.

“Unhand my master this instant!”

I sigh. No matter how many times I insist that Haku not call me his master, he refuses. It must be a drake thing.

Wolf Boy, mouth agape, stares at Haku and whispers, “Whoa, bro!”

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