Page 18 of Howl You Doin?
I sit and attempt to control my breathing, my hands clenched into fists. The woman can get under my skin faster than anyone I have ever met, and after three hundred years, I’ve gotten to know a lot of people.
The first night she came to the castle, I thought I smelled something... off. And I was right.
There is no chance she wasn’t wearing it tonight—her perfume. It makes me want to bend her over and fuck her senseless, and I don’t even like the woman. Of course, this is tobe expected for what I am. Or so Jekyll says. Apparently, some perfumes can elicit a stronger response in me.
I breathe in heavily and immediately roar. My fur bristles under my skin, hands turning to claws, and my knees bend into a monstrous form. Damn her, and damn her scent. I have half a mind to spray down the study—it’s somehow worse today.
“Damn me.” I breathe her in, and my eyes roll to the back of my head as I force my baser self back. Most days are bearable, but today... today I am on the brink. From the moment she stepped foot in this castle, my senses have gone haywire.
And if I hadn’t started this business venture, she wouldn’t be here.
I grab the phone from my desk and lean back in my chair, shooting off a text to Jekyll.
Me:
How much of this shit do I have to drink?
I pick up the small vial that arrived this morning via courier and decide I would rather not know what’s in the fluorescent-green mixture glowing inside. The stuff is supposed to have calming effects, but my body burns off toxins so quickly that most substances never take hold. I can never get drunk, and no human-made drugs have an effect, which means everything is experimental.
Jekyll:
You’re going to try it?
Me:
How much?
Jekyll:
One vial should be enough. For your size and weight, I recommend eating before, though. Wolf down some food. Rawr.
I rub at my temples, already wanting to reach through the phone and choke him.
It vibrates and Vlad’s name flashes across the screen.
“Hello?” I answer, wondering what he’s calling me for now.
“Hello?” Vlad repeats. “Doyle?”
“Can you not hear me?”
“Why are you growling?” he says, his voice amused.
“I’m not growling.” I scoff into the phone, knowing he can hear me just fine and is trying to rile me up. Irritating ass.
“I can practically hear you pacing from the Maldives,” Vlad says with a snicker. “Aubrey says hello.”
“Hey, Doyle!” Aubrey shouts, near enough to the phone for me to hear her.
“I see the couple is still happy and in love then.”
“We’ve been doing lives from the yacht,” Aubrey squeals.
“The Maldives?” The hell are they doing in the Maldives? “We have a yacht?”
“I borrowed it from Frank,” he says, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Does Frank know you borrowed it?”
