Page 128 of Roaring Flames

“It’s a thirty-minute drive to the barbecue, correct?” I continue moving until I reach the passenger side of the car.

Christian, after only a moment of indecision, hurries to follow me, unlocking the car and slipping into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” he finally answers after he has the seat belt on and the car started. “Why do you ask?”

“Thirty minutes is enough time to get some answers,” I respond. “I want to know everything about us, the mating bond, and why you were called back here by your father.”

“That might be longer than thirty minutes, sweetheart.” He blows out a breath, his hands clenching around the steering wheel.

I reach over my chest to grab my seat belt and buckle it in.

“Then take the scenic route. Because by the time we get to the barbecue, I want answers. All of them. No holding things back or keeping things from me. I already told the others this, but I’ll tell you now… There are only so many times I can forgive someone for lying to me. This is your one chance, Christian. Don’t blow it.”

Forty-Eight

ASHTON

“So this is where the devil sleeps?”

I stiffen automatically at the sound of her voice, not turning away from my desk. I know I should be at the barbecue with the others, but I have too much on my plate to…dally with other shifters.

In front of me is every newspaper article I could find detailing a death caused by a Hunter. There were seventeen in 2020, thirteen in 2021, fourteen in 2022, eighteen in 2023, and eighty-seven in 2024. When I first noticed the dramatic increase, I was afraid my jaw had come unhinged.

What the fuck could’ve caused the Hunters to escalate so dramatically?

All of the deaths took place in different states. Some of the victims I knew to be werewolves, but others, I suspected, were witches, warlocks, and vampires.

The only similarity is the Hunter’s mark carved onto the skin of the victims.

How can I think of barbecue and drinks and dancing when I’m on the precipice of a radical discovery?

“Is there something you want, Isabella?” I clench my jaw and reach for my pen once more. “And how did you even get into my room?”

She doesn’t answer me, and my curiosity piques. I have a ton of work to do—and an incessant pounding has taken up residence in my head—but my mate ishere. In my bedroom.

Fuck.

Slowly, I swivel in my office chair to face her, and my tongue turns to cotton in my mouth.

Isabella Martin sits on the edge of my bed, wearing nothing but lacy lingerie plucked straight out of every wet dream I’ve ever had…but will never admit to.

The pink bralette pushes up her breasts in a way that shouldn’t be legal. Through the wisps of material, I can see her hardened pink nipples, taunting me. The frilly material ends just before her toned belly, and my gaze greedily devours all of that golden skin on display. Her matching pink panties barely cover the important bits and are attached to a garter that caresses her upper thighs the way I want my lips to.

Fuck me.

A strangled noise escapes me as she moves off the bed and sashays towards me.

“What are you doing, Isabella?” I demand, desperately trying to regain control of my senses.

I need to think with my head…and not the one that’s straining against the denim of my jeans.

Keeping her gaze fixed on me, she reaches for one of her bra straps and slides it down her shoulder.

“I made a bet with the twins that I can get you down to the party.” A sinful smirk pulls at the corners of her lips. “And I don’t like losing.”

She straddles me, her ass rubbing against my cock in a way that has me seeing stars.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

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