Page 14 of A Shifter Disaster Thanksgiving

Sylvester’s jaw clenched. Should he tell her? She’d agreed to be his wife already. She didn’t have much of a choice now. She might as well find out the reason he’d asked her in the first place.

“You will find out soon,” he told her. “I’m going to talk to my brother tomorrow.”

“Your brother… the village chief?”

His left eye twitched. Clearly, Quinta had told her more than he’d expected.

“Yes. Gregory. I’ll go to see him in his cabin, and you will come with me. I’ll show you the village along the way.”

“Oh.” She frowned, marring her beautiful features. “Why are you going to see him?”

She asked a lot of questions, this one. “You’ll find that out, too. Tomorrow.” He pulled off his jacket, and he thought he heard her inhale sharply as he revealed his bare torso. “Right now, it’s getting late. I’m going to get some rest.”

With that, he proceeded toward his bedroom, but stopped just at the door. When he turned around, she was still standing on the rug, a confused look on her face.

“You should rest, too,” he said.

“I slept when I got back from Quinta’s.”

“Nonsense. You look like you could use more. Come with me. We will share my bed.”

She blanched. “I… I can sleep out here.”

“I wasn’t asking,” he told her. “You are my wife now. You should be sleeping with me.”

Silence passed between them like a gentle breeze, followed by the sound of her clearing her throat. She nodded. “Okay.”

He opened the door, stepping aside to let her through. Dim light filtered into the bedroom from the fireplace, casting a soft glow across the wooden floorboards. Blinking in the semi-darkness, Diane could just make out the outline of his bed, tucked in a corner of the room. Neatly arranged at the foot was a pile of clothes, among which were the ones Diane had been wearing when he snatched her in midair.

He gestured toward the bed, and she made her way to it, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the thin mattress. She blinked at him, as though waiting for other instructions.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he told her, gazing down at his hands, which were blackened from the forge. “Get some sleep.”

The shower was a quick one. By the time he returned to the bedroom minutes later, she was lying on her side, with her back to him. He sensed her stiffen as he climbed into bed next to her and knew instantly that she was still awake. They lay together in silence, and he felt the minutes tick by slowly as he gazed up at the ceiling, fighting the thoughts that surged through his mind.

He glanced sideways at her form. Curled up on her side, her curves were visible even in the dim light. Sylvester felt a sudden tightening in his trousers. The urge to reach out and touch hergripped him, but he held back, teeth clenched slightly.Not now. She might be his wife, but he hadn’t taken her as his so he could enjoy her body, no matter how powerful the temptation was. No, all he wanted was to get a rise out of Gregory. And he would.

Yet he could hardly take his mind off this woman. When had he ever felt an urge so powerful? He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, determined to clear his head of all thoughts.

He settled on focusing his mind elsewhere. The tension between the villages was growing as time went by. Even within Pine Gap, he could sense it. People were tense, as if everyone was expecting an invasion any moment. Gregory and Jon were right after all. Talk of war continued spreading.

Perhaps there would be war. Sylvester hoped not, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Besides, his biggest concerns lay elsewhere. War or not, he would not rest until he avenged his father’s murder.

Chapter Seven

“I’m Her Husband”

The thing about having an accident in midair and plummeting thousands of feet toward the earth was that you didn’t quite get over it. At least, not right away. Each time Diane closed her eyes to sleep, the memories came rushing back to her, and she spent hours tossing and turning in the bed before she finally got any rest.

It was morning when she awoke, drawing a deep breath before her eyes snapped open. Her gaze landed on the tiny cracks in the wooden boards that formed the wall. For the next few seconds, she froze, trying to get her bearings, and relaxed only when she remembered where she was: Sylvester’s bedroom. He’d asked her to come in here last night.

She stiffened, suddenly aware of a slight pressure on her torso. Lowering her gaze, she let out a soft gasp. Sylvester’s arm was draped over her body. At some point in the middle of the night, he’d pulled her closer to him. Her body was nestled snugly against his, and his warm, gentle breath teased the back of her neck.

Crap.

Diane’s heartbeat rose to a light flutter. His arm felt like a weighted blanket, but that wasn’t even the problem. No, it was the fact that her body had begun to respond to him. In a moment of panic, she started to pull away from him, but the effort merely fit her breast into his open palm. Before she could protest, he kneaded it, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

Diane rocked backward, trying to free herself from his grip, and her bottom pressed against something solid. It throbbed, and her eyes grew wide as Thanksgiving dinner plates. Sylvester’s breaths continued in a gentle rhythm, and shepictured him lying with his eyes closed, oblivious to his own bodily reactions.

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