Page 19 of Cowboy Devil's Embrace

For the first time in my life that I could recall, I was stuck doing something I was absolutely not good at.

Like not at all.

And what did that say about me, really? That at almost forty years old, I still only did things I knew I would excel at.

Was I some kind of coward?

No. That wasn’t it.

But I never pushed myself before, and doing it now was a strange combination of angsty and exhilarating.

Even if my body ached like I was on my deathbed instead of in my prime.

Forty was prime, fuck you very much.

I was a Jersey Devil, not some human insurance salesman.

Still, I should be in better shape than this. Working outdoors the past couple of days had kicked my ass.

I hated to admit it, but the few Shifters who made it past the first couple of rounds of interviews were running circles around me.

A growl rumbled deep in my chest, and I rubbed my hand over that spot, trying to soothe my inner monster. My Devil side was bonding to this place, to this land.

I could feel it. The change growing inside of me, like the swell of the tide.

The only problem was it wasn’t enough.

The last quarter moon before my fortieth birthday was approaching and my Devil was hungry.

Not for food.

Certainly not for fucking goat cheese.

For my promised one.

My fated mate.

But where was I going to meet a woman out here? In the abandoned cornfields, for fuck’s sake?

I heaved a sigh and shook my head.

Grandmother was right about this place being good for me. Not that I would tell her that anytime soon.

My life before all this seemed so shallow and empty. The parties and the money and the women. I still liked pussy, but was I satisfied with meaningless encounters?

The short answer was no.

Fuck no.

Hell no.

I craved more from life than sex.

It was funny, just a week in this place had me craving more than a meaningless night with a stranger. That was the kind of thing I used to live for, but now it was repulsive to me.

The man I used to be.

The family estate I once called home.

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