Page 11 of My Boyfriend Bites

Selene: This is not some kind of fairytale.

Mother: Why can’t it be? You’re assuming his motive.

Selene: Because I’m not an idiot.

Mother: You can’t keep being scared of falling in love.

Selene: Am not.

Mother: Ever since that boy in college, you’ve been finding excuses.

Selene: With reason.—That reason being in the midst of passion she’d almost wolfed out.

Mother: You’ve gotten better about your control.

Selene: I’ve got to go, Mom. Lunch is about to start.

A lie, but a great excuse to end the conversation.

Selene signed off and pursed her lips. Mom did have a point about her not exactly trying hard to date. Ironic, because she wanted someone to love. However, her control over her shifting proved tenuous. Strong emotions could trigger it, and that included passion. Cory in college wasn’t the only one she’d almost messed up with. There’d been a few other attempts, embarrassing occasions where, in the heat of the moment, she’d suddenly flung herself off the guy and run to the bathroom until she could calm herself enough to stuff her lycan side back down, and then abruptly ended the date.

Did she fear losing control with Dante?

Yes.

Would he be understanding if she suddenly cut things short?

Most likely not.

Which made her think of the medication she’d brought, courtesy of her sister. Athena knew of her issues and had gotten her a prescription for Lamictal, something meant to dull her emotions. Selene hated it, though. While it did seem to work, it left her feeling nothing. Not joy, no displeasure, just numbness. Masturbating while on it left her feeling as if she were detached—she also couldn’t orgasm. Strangely enough, when she did play with herself while not drugged out of her mind, she could come without issue, so the climax itself wasn’t a trigger, just the emotions involved with a partner.

Lunch proved to be the same scenario as breakfast. Too many people. Too much noise. She took her burger and fries to her room and ate on her balcony.

The cologne she’d have sworn she smelled the evening before had dissipated. So odd. She’d come out for fresh air and would have sworn she smelled Dante nearby. Apparently, her usually very astute olfactory senses had trouble discerning reality from memory.

She spent the afternoon reading. After all, she’d completed her daily list, except for the last. Dinner with Dante. Given she’d chosen to ditch that, she ended up forcing herself to go to the buffet wearing a sun dress and sitting with a crowd of older ladies who then proceeded to try and matchmake.

“Oh look, dear, there’s a young man who seems to be alone over there,” stated Frances, pointing at a fellow standing in line. The woman in her sixties, with her mauve-tinted hair and round cheeks, kept calling her dear.

“I’m fine, really,” Selene insisted in between bites of food. The quicker she finished her plate, the quicker she could return to her room.

“Nonsense, dear. Why, by your age, I was already married with my two oldest children.”

“Let the girl be,” piped in Jackie, whose white ensemble contrasted with Frances’ floral number. “Nothing wrong with being a single gal having fun. I didn’t marry until my mid-thirties.”

“Because you prioritized your job over settling down,” Frances tartly replied.

“Not every woman needs a man to be fulfilled,” stated Audrey, a black woman wearing a flowing red caftan, her smooth skin at odds with her gray tight curls.

“You do if you’re not planning to kill the planet with used batteries,” Frances hotly retorted.

“Don’t tell me you’ve not switched your toys over to rechargeable,” an appalled Jackie huffed.

Selene wanted to crawl under the table as the conversation suddenly switched over to sex gadgets.

The women around her suddenly grew quiet just as the hairs on her nape lifted. She smelled Dante’s cologne a moment before he spoke.

“Evening, ladies, I hope I am not disturbing.” Dante’s smooth interruption.

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