Page 31 of Forbidden Devotion
He’d spent the day with a werewolf. Worse, he had a devastating crush on the man. So bad he’d ignored all his body’s signals and put himself at grave risk.
How could he have been that stupid?
The taste of Mitchel’s blood stuck thick in his throat, coating his tongue. Decadent. Luscious. Already Sinclair yearned for more. It would be so easy to become addicted to such a taste.
He dropped his head into his hands and huffed. All around him, Mitchel’s scent hung heavy in the air. Teasing him. Tempting him.
He had to get out. Needed to put some space between himself and the alpha wolf. Between himself and the events of the day.
Sinclair shook like a dog, trying to cast off whatever crazy urges were coming over him, but to no avail.
Mind made up, he took off, intent on escaping to his little room. To solitude, where he could think clearly.
He paused in the yard and glanced up at Mitchel on the roof. His back was turned. Suddenly overwhelmed, with no idea what to say and feeling foolish for this baffling onslaught of emotion, Sinclair raced away, hoping he wouldn’t be seen.
He’d think of an explanation later.
* * *
Mitchel
When the lastof the nails was shot into the last of the shingles, Mitchel swiped the remaining debris off the roof with a satisfied grin. A general swell of relief at a long-overdue job well done puffed his chest and raised his chin. He clapped the dust off his hands and made for the ladder, eager to check on Sinclair.
Relaxing over beer and pizza was just what they needed after today’s scare. The scent of melted cheese and tomato sauce drifted to his nose, and his stomach rumbled an enthusiastic response.
The pile of rubbish in the yard could wait until tomorrow. Tools in hand, Mitchel hurried inside to put them away and check on his guest, but when he walked into the house, it was empty.
“Sinclair?”
No answer.
Where could he have gone? Ah, maybe to the rock he liked by the creek. Abandoning the tools on the kitchen table, Mitchel searched outside, but Sinclair wasn’t at the creek either. He turned in place, scanning the landscape.
Nothing.
He took to sniffing the air, his sense of smell perhaps even more trustworthy than his vision. Mitchel picked out Sinclair’s fresh, spicy scent and followed it to the trail leading back to the dorms. Huh.
He sniffed the air again and, finding no traces of fresh blood or other predators, reassured himself that Sinclair wasn’t hurt. He’d merely left.
Mitchel frowned, shoulders slumping forward. Why would the vampire have left without saying a word? Was he all right?
The urge to chase after him to be sure he was okay loomed large, but Sinclair was a grown man, not one of his students. He could take care of himself. And he clearly didn’t want to spend any more time with Mitchel.
But…what could have upset him? Had Mitchel done something wrong? Said something? Doubt consumed him.
He closed his eyes and thought of Sinclair’s smaller hand in his. Their palms warm against each other. He’d thought…
It didn’t matter what he’d thought. It was stupid anyway.
His cell ringing from his pocket yanked him back to reality.
Shit. Alpha Council. That couldn’t be good.
“Hello?”
“Mitchel, it’s Ramsey. Listen, we’re holding an emergency meeting tonight. I don’t know how closely you’ve been following the news, but we’ve had reports of two serious skirmishes between wolves and vampires in the last forty-eight hours.”
His heart leaped in his chest. “What? How bad? Were there any injuries?”
